put the bucket down and stood. She brushed past Spencer, his clean scent mixing in with fresh hay and too-fresh manure. She picked up a second pail from a nearby table. It also had several neat holes in the bottom, as if someone had taken a nail and driven it through the metal with a hammer.
“Something wrong?” Spencer’s voice sounded from behind her.
Biting her lip, she turned the pail over. Bold red letters spelled out the word English. A red slash cut across the entire bottom of the pail, as if to say, No English Allowed.
Her knees grew weak. Suddenly, the heavy cotton of her Amish dress clung to her neck, strangling her. She pushed past Spencer and returned to the first pail and found the same thing. She shoved the pail into Spencer’s chest.
“Look. The person who slashed my tires was busy last night.”
Spencer’s brow furrowed as he glanced down at the bucket in his hands.
“You have to find John. If it’s John who’s doing this,” she quickly added. “He mustn’t be in his right mind.” Hannah tugged on her bun to loosen it. “To kill my sister and now try to chase me away. What does he hope to accomplish?”
“I can’t speculate on his motive.” Spencer inspected the pail. “We’re doing everything we can to find him. To get answers.”
“Maybe it’s just kids. A prank...” Even as she said it, she doubted it. But John...that didn’t seem right, either. The thought of spending another long, restless night in this house made her wish she had the ability to speed up time. There were no locks on the doors, but maybe she could move furniture in front of the doors at night. She said a silent prayer in hopes of calming her frazzled nerves.
She bowed her head then lifted it and met his gaze directly. “I refuse to abandon my nieces. Because—” she swiped the bucket out of his hand “—that’s exactly what he wants me to do.”
* * *
When Spencer emerged from the barn a half step behind Hannah, the little girls were each holding an Amish woman’s hand. The girls tugged and pulled on the woman’s arm as she marched directly toward them, an expression, a combination of disgust and scolding on her plain features.
“There you are,” she said, narrowing her gaze at Hannah. “These girls have been wandering around half-dressed.”
“They are perfectly dressed.” Hannah fingered the older girl’s blond curls. “If it’s their hair you’re concerned with, I didn’t have a chance to do their braids yet. I wasn’t expecting visitors.” Hannah touched her own messy bun.
The woman’s gaze shot to Spencer, and her nose twitched.
“Morning. I’m Sheriff Maxwell.” He held out his hand then let it drop when it was obvious the woman wasn’t going to accept it.
The woman sniffed the air. “I’m Fannie Mae Lapp.” She lifted the girls’ hands. The pout on the older girl’s face was unmistakable. The younger of the two was on the verge of tears. “I’m the girls’ aenti.” She glared at him as if he were going to challenge her claim.
“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” He recognized Lester Lapp, John’s brother, strolling across the grass. Lester had been his father’s, the bishop’s, guard dog, not allowing law enforcement to speak to anyone in the Lapp family since Ruth’s death and John’s disappearance. Lester strode down the slight incline from the house to the barn, his arms swinging confidently by his sides. “I came out as soon as we heard you were here. The bishop is also here.” His tone held a warning. “If you have news regarding my brother, you can share it with me. My father is still weak from grief.”
“I have no news about John.” Spencer wasn’t about to share news of Ruthie’s murder in front of her daughters. “But I’m afraid we’ve had some—” he glanced down at the girls “—events on the property that need to be addressed.” Spencer crossed his arms. “It’s best if we don’t talk in front of the children.”
“Girls, run up to the house for me.” Hannah tossed the metal bucket on the hard-packed mud. It tumbled and landed with the graffiti facing away from the guests.
Lester gave Fannie Mae a subtle nod, giving her permission to take the children up to the house. The older niece yanked her hand from her aunt’s grip and ran ahead. The little one seemed tired of being led around, reminding Spencer of a rag doll dangling by a boneless arm.
“What’s going on?” Lester fingered his unkempt beard and kept his eyes trained on Hannah. “Sheriff Maxwell seems to be spending a lot of time on my brother’s farm. I’d hate for the neighbors to start talking. There is much work to be done if you expect to be accepted in Apple Creek.” He was speaking directly to Hannah.
Was Hannah planning on joining the Amish community permanently? Something in Spencer’s heart shifted, and he wasn’t proud of himself. Regardless of his initial attraction to this spunky woman, she had to make a decision that was best for her even if it meant there would be zero chance of a them. His disappointment seemed silly considering they had only just met. However, there was something about her simple, straightforward manner that was the complete opposite of high-maintenance Vicki.
“Lester, I’m going to forgive your bad manners on account of your tremendous loss,” Hannah said, not mincing words.
“I don’t need your forgiveness.” A vein bulged in Lester’s forehead.
“What’s going on here?” Bishop Lapp navigated his way down the slope with his cane. He looked warm in his black overcoat as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Lester’s expression immediately softened. He met his father and guided him to the dirt-packed entrance of the barn.
“I have difficult news,” Spencer said. The bishop had aged dramatically these past few days. Spencer cleared his throat and then told Lester and Bishop Lapp of the suspicious circumstances surrounding Ruth’s death.
“Are you saying John hurt Ruth?” Lester crossed his arms over his chest, one of his fingers snagging on his suspenders. “Neh, impossible.” He shook his head adamantly for emphasis. “It was an accident. A tragic accident.”
“I’m afraid the medical examiner’s findings contradict that.”
“And you? How do you feel?” Lester asked.
“I have more questions than answers right now. I need to talk to John. Have you heard from him?” Spencer watched their expressions carefully, trying to detect deceit.
Lester tipped his head, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his straw hat. “Neh. We’re worried.”
“My son had nothing to do with his wife’s death.” The bishop narrowed his gaze. He reached out and clutched a post to steady himself. “You haven’t been in town long, Sheriff. But one thing you must already know. The Amish are a peaceful people. This medical examiner...he is wrong.”
“Someone slashed my tires last night.” Hannah stepped forward. “Any idea who would do that?”
“It wasn’t John. He hasn’t been around. Don’t you think if my brother was around, he’d be consoling his children? He must not be in his right mind due to grief. There’s no other
