her work, especially when he’d been reluctant at first. More than that, she was excited to see VERA’s insides at last. Gabe was, too. He kept chattering about wanting to sit in the driver’s seat, no doubt dreaming about driving the big truck, whatever was in the back of it. As for her own dreams…
“Gabe, I’d like to ask you a question about the night of the fire,” Nate said as the three of them walked along the farm lane toward the woodlot. “On the level now, I take it some of the kids in their running-around years try smoking cigarettes.”
“Some,” Gabe said, nodding so hard his bangs bounced on his forehead under his straw hat. “A few even try pot. We’re allowed. I know it’s not good. Some kids have problems giving it up later, even tobacco cigs, I mean. You know, after they join the church, but, yeah, it’s kind of common, like maybe having a coupla beers.”
“So is there any chance someone could have sneaked across the field, maybe been around the Esh barn the night of your party but, because the party, at least inside the barn, was chaperoned by your mother and sister, wanted more privacy?”
To Sarah’s dismay, Gabe cheeks went as bright as a polished Red Delicious apple. She bit her lower lip to keep from either trying to help him out or questioning him herself. She recalled how out of breath and red-cheeked he’d been when he’d rushed into the barn to tell her Jacob was outside. Could he have come from way across the field and not only been outside their barn?
“I don’t think so,” Gabe said. “A coupla guys were smoking regular cigs outside behind the buggies—not me—but I have a time or two.”
“I’m not blaming anyone for smoking or accusing them of being an arsonist,” Nate assured him with a pat on his shoulder. “As I said, a single dropped cigarette or match in the hay was not how the barn fire started, but if some kids were over there, maybe they saw something—something they don’t even know was important for my investigation. I’d love to talk to them. I need all the help I can get,” he added as they approached VERA. “And I can keep things confidential. You know that word, Gabe—confidential?”
“Ya, Mr. MacKenzie. I can ask around and keep my ears open.”
“Good man,” Nate said, and this time hit his shoulder lightly with a balled fist.
Sarah and Gabe watched as Nate took a small bit of metal and plastic out of his pocket—not quite a key—aimed it in VERA’s direction, then pressed something. They heard a double click and VERA’s lights blinked once as if in welcome—or warning.
“Like a magic lock,” Gabe said as he climbed up into the high cab next to Nate while Sarah sat by the passenger’s side window. “Way cool.”
Sarah kept silent while Nate explained and demonstrated the various dashboard instruments. He showed them how the GPS worked and how the computer could perform other tasks. But Sarah sensed that it was just being in the big truck cab that impressed Gabe most. He kept touching the outer edge of the steering wheel and glancing out through the windshield. So her brother had a good imagination, too, just different from hers, that’s all, she thought.
“Do you want to see the magic techno-cave in back now?” he asked the wide-eyed seventeen-year-old.
“Maybe later,” Gabe said, his eyes aglow. Barbara Lantz, Sarah thought, might be jealous if she saw how her brother lusted—yes, a sin, but so human—after this big, polished, black truck cab.
“Then while I show your sister,” Nate said, “why don’t you slide over in the driver’s seat?”
“Nate!” Sarah blurted.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he got down and closed the door on the rapt boy who now had his hands on the steering wheel. He came around to help Sarah down. “He can’t start it, can’t go anyplace.”
He gestured toward the back of the vehicle, and she went with him. She’d been tempted to see VERA up close earlier today and now she would. After all, as entranced as Gabe was up front, he was here as a kind of chaperone. So what could happen while an Englische ausländer, however entrancing he was, introduced her to his sleek, brilliant, mechanical partner?
7
AT FIRST, NATE SHOWED SARAH THINGS INSIDE VERA she’d expected to see, like firefighting gear and an ax and shovel he’d used to examine the ruins of the Esh barn. He explained a scene light and demonstrated the neat collapsible ladder he said he’d loan her. She figured that was all to break her in easy when he began to show her the array of amazing instruments and machines neatly stowed inside VERA. But she was even more amazed by her feelings being so close to him. Despite Gabe nearby and the back doors being wide open, she felt so alone with Nate as it went from dusk to dark outside.
Nate’s tour of VERA’s marvels with brief explanations of their uses blurred by: a thermal imager, a digital camera, a laser range finder. He showed her handheld, wireless phones. Several years before she’d heard Peter Clawson call them walkie-talkies when he used them with his reporter, before times got tough and he started doing everything at the paper himself, except for some volunteers. Nate showed her his laptop computer and his printer, copier, scanner and fax machine. He said he had a fingerprinting kit but didn’t show it to her. VERA had what he called a camcorder and a fourteen-inch color TV with a built-in DVD that played flat silver disks and worked off a generator or the truck’s batteries.
“The antenna system you’ve seen on the roof is invaluable in the rolling terrain around here,” he went on. “The tower retracts into a rear compartment—here, see—and is raised and lowered by a single switch to go thirty-four feet into the air. Five antennae then pop out so I can get signals for communication.”
Signals for communication—his words echoed in her head. She hoped he didn’t know how his closeness was getting to her, as if his occasional light touch on her elbow or back, the scent of his hair or skin, was giving her body silent signals.
He was right about it being cozy in here. Besides a narrow counter for lab work on both sides of the truck, a skinny central table with newspapers open on it took up some space. She saw the Budget, the latest issue she’d been reading to her grandmother, and the special edition of the Home Valley News spread out with some things underlined or circled in red ink.
“Any clues in there?” she asked.
“Just trying to learn more about the area and the people. You’ve been very helpful with that.”
“Good. We all want to help you find who did it. You told my father you didn’t think the fire had anything to do with my paintings. I appreciate that.”
“I think it’s more likely someone’s out for revenge against Bishop Esh. But I’m glad you’ll be working at home for a while, because I don’t want to imply you don’t have to be careful painting your patterns. That’s what I’m looking for, a pattern. I’m just hoping—praying, as your mother put it—that I can find something that makes sense and leads to the arsonist. I can tell how much those painted quilt squares mean to you.”
“What I’d really like to paint are entire scenes of Amish life,” she blurted, though she was usually so guarded about sharing that. “Ray-Lynn Logan at the restaurant, Hannah and Ella are the only ones I’ve told. To my people, it would be too personal, too prideful, even if I didn’t sign my name on them. Ray-Lynn said I have a folk style, kind of primitive, but that it would suit my subject matter. She said it would be something like a woman called Grandma Moses used to paint. She told me that
