“As it was intended.” But he looked like he was joking.

  The barn was at the top of a hill, and when they opened the door, the smell of cattle and hay met them. Petunia had to let her eyes adjust after the bright outdoor sunlight, and when they did, she spotted Jonathan across the barn, his back to them. He was wearing his shirtsleeves and suspenders, and his hat was pushed back on his head. He seemed to be looking at something.

  “Hello!” Asher called.

  Jonathan startled and pushed a wad of cloth into a corner. He stepped away from it and came toward them.

  “Hi,” Jonathan said. “Can I help you?”

  Jonathan looked at Petunia curiously, then back at Asher.

  “We were hoping to ask you a few questions,” Asher said.

  “Sure.”

  “Where you were last night between the hours of”—he consulted his cell phone—“the preliminary investigation is suggesting between the hours of midnight and four AM this morning?”

  “In bed with my wife,” he replied.

  “What time do you get up for work?” Asher asked.

  “Four thirty.”

  “And you were sleeping in the same bed?”

  “There’s only one bed in our little house,” Jonathan said with a chuckle. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because Verna Smoker is dead,” Asher replied.

  Jonathan blinked. “What?”

  “It’s true,” Petunia said. “She was murdered. I found her this morning on the road.”

  “Dead?” Jonathan sighed. “Wow. My wife is going to be so upset …”

  “Did she know Verna?” Asher asked.

  “No, it’s another murder!”

  “Are you upset?” Asher asked.

  “Me? Sure. Of course. It’s upsetting and horrible. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  The men were going back and forth, and Petunia slipped past Jonathan while he defended his outrage at a murder in their community, and she headed toward the corner where Jonathan had been standing. She was just reaching for the wadded-up shirt when Jonathan called out, “Petunia! Leave that!”

  “Why?” she shot back, and grabbed the shirt. It fell open and something tiny fell out onto the cement floor. It bounced away, and she bent down to pick it up. It was a tiny wooden carving—a little Amish couple standing side by side, the woman’s dress melting into the man’s pants. It was detailed, perfect, and familiar. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  “Oh, that …” Jonathan laughed uncomfortably. “I guess I lost it.”

  “You were hiding it,” she countered.

  “No, I was just …” Jonathan’s face colored, and he licked his lips.

  “This is what you found at the ice house, isn’t it?” she demanded. “I knew you found something, and you said you hadn’t. But you did. It was this.”

  Jonathan was silent.

  “At the ice house, when exactly?” Asher cut in.

  “The day after the murder, I went back,” Petunia said. “And Jonathan was there. He’d used his sister’s key for the ice house to get inside, and we both had a look around.”

  “You never told me that,” Asher said.

  No, she hadn’t. She’d kept her own counsel on that one. She shot Asher an apologetic look. “Jonathan didn’t kill Ike.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Asher asked. “Friendship?”

  “Partly,” she replied. “But I recognize this—the style of it, at least. It’s a carving made by Obadiah Schlabach. Isn’t it, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan sighed. “He gave one like it to my sister years ago. I don’t know what she ever did with it, but it wasn’t a prized possession. But if they found this, I was afraid they’d assume it was hers, and they’d have more evidence against her.”

  “With Verna dead, I’m more inclined to think your sister is innocent than ever before,” Asher said. “She couldn’t have killed them both, and I’m pretty sure we’re looking for one person for both murders. So if it didn’t get into the ice house with your sister, how did it get there?”

  “Obadiah …,” Petunia breathed.

  “Let’s walk through it,” Asher said. “Why would he want to kill Ike?”

  “For the same reason our whole family hated him,” Jonathan said. “He was taking advantage of Eden. Obadiah was in love with her.”

  “In love?” Asher’s eyebrows went up.

  “I knew he had a crush—” Petunia started.

  “In love!” Jonathan said firmly. “He asked me a few times to help Eden see that Ike was a bad seed, but she just wouldn’t open her eyes to it. Obadiah was more than infatuated. He would have taken Eden even after all she’d done to embarrass herself with Ike Smoker. He loved her.”

  Petunia handed the small carving over to Asher, and he turned it over in his hands.

  “It’s newly carved,” he said.

  “Yah. That’s what I thought,” Jonathan said. “But it wasn’t my sister’s. I know that. If anyone brought that into the ice house, it was Obadiah Schlabach. As much as I hate to say it, because I really wanted to see my sister with Obie. I thought he was a good guy.”

  “It seems that he’s got a violent side to him,” Asher said thoughtfully.

  “But why would he kill Verna?” Jonathan asked.

  Petunia knew why. Because Verna was planning on telling everyone exactly who Ike was. And Obadiah had a lot to lose from it. His family’s reputation would be ruined, and Verna would keep taking and taking from the Schlabachs, taking advantage of their guilt and feelings of responsibility. And Obadiah was sick of it.

  Or maybe it was about the will … Ike was in it. Was Verna too? Or with Ike’s death, would his part of the will revert to his wife? That would all depend on the will’s wording, but Obadiah might have had some very real fears.

  “Maybe this murder was about money,” Petunia said, meeting Asher’s gaze.

  Asher nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe so,” he agreed. “Maybe so.” Then he turned to Jonathan. “Thank you for your time. Would you be willing to testify that you found this carving in the ice house that night?”

  “If it clears my sister.”

  “Good,” Asher replied.

  But Petunia noticed that Asher didn’t give any reassurances.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Once back in the car, Asher put the vehicle into gear and drove faster out of the property than he’d driven in. He paused at the road, then turned onto the asphalt with a spin of gravel. Petunia felt a surge of sadness. Obadiah had been a friend over the years. She’d dreamed of more than friendship with him once upon a time, too. She’d respected his family, and looked up to his parents. The sight of the Schlabachs arriving for service Sunday had always made her feel secure and happy. They were a pillar around here.

  And now, a lot of that would change. The bishop had a secret son. The bishop’s wife had secret pain. And everyone had been hiding the truth for a very long time, including Obadiah.

  “I grew up with Obadiah,” Petunia said softly. A lump stuck in her throat.

  Asher’s gaze flickered toward her. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “I knew when we found the killer it was going to sting,” she said.

  But with Obadiah, it more than stung. It cut.

  “I knew it would be hard,” Asher said. “If you hadn’t helped me, though, we might never have figured it out. I needed you to get into people’s homes and get them to talk. I needed your insights. Honestly, if you hadn’t helped me, I think Eden would be going away for a very long time.”

  “I know—” She cleared her throat. “I should be focused on getting Eden out, not on how sad it makes me to find out who actually did it.”

  “Does it make sense to you?” Asher asked. “Knowing him, and all the facts we’ve uncovered, does it ring true for you?”

  Petunia thought for a moment. Obadiah had lost a lot … and even the brother he’d gained was an embarrassment. What could the men have had in common besides some DNA? Maybe their taste in women, because they’d both been drawn to Eden. But Eden had fallen for the wrong brother—injury added to insult. And then to lose part of his inheritance, and to have Ike’s volatile wife threatening to uncover all of their embarrassment for everyone to see …

  “It all adds up, except for our proof,” Petunia said. “That little carving doesn’t actually prove anything. I might know who made it, but you can’t prove that Obie was the one who dropped it. He’s made all sorts of those little carvings. One year, he even sold them at the farmers market. Is that enough to outshine a woman with the victim’s blood on her hands? This convinces us, not the whole court system!”

  “True,” Asher said, but his eyes were flinty and he kept them on the road. He slowed for a buggy, eased past, and then stepped on the gas again.

  “So how do we prove it?” she asked.

  “Well, first of all, I got a chance to go through Verna’s bag, and there was nothing in there to incriminate her. Everything was folded, and by all appearances, she was heading home. Now, I can’t prove it yet, but I think someone in the Schlabach home told her that a van was coming for her—then hit her on the head while she waited.”

  “You think Obie lured her out there …”

  “It’s the only explanation that matches the evidence,” he said.

  “Unless she called for the van herself from the phone hut,” Petunia said.

  “I’ll check the outgoing calls from that number,” he replied. “In fact—”

  He picked up his phone, hit a button, and stuck it onto a magnetic holder on the dash. It rang on speaker, and an officer picked up.

  “Hi, it’s Asher. We need to look into some phone records for an Amish phone hut about half a mile from the site of the murder …”

  There was a short discussion about getting a court order to allow it, and then Asher hung up.

  “Will that prove anything?” she asked.

  “It’ll help build a picture,” he replied. “But if we’re going to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Obadiah murdered both Ike and Verna, then I think we’re going to need a confession.”

  As if that was easy to come by! If confession was as good for the soul as everyone said, Obie should have broken down and confessed it all by now. Mind, his father had kept the secret of his son’s existence for quite some time, too. The Amish believed in being accountable to each other, but the Schlabachs hadn’t lived up to that yet.

  “And you think Obie will just come out with it?” Petunia asked. “If he killed two people and has kept his mouth shut this long—”

  “He won’t confess for you or me,” Asher replied. “Obviously, I won’t scare him enough because I have no proof, and he knows it. If he was willing to let us know about his relationship to Ike, then he’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”

  “Smart how?” she asked.

  “If he’d kept his secret and we found out about it, he’d look guilty,” Asher replied. “But he told you about it first. That makes him look like just some innocent guy who’s tired of the drama.”

  It was smart … and looking out that window, he’d known that the truth was bound to come out. He was just revealing it first.

  “So you think he’s been one step ahead of us?” she asked.

  “I think he’s been trying to be, and you started closing in. He’s going to be feeling pretty desperate right now. There are two dead bodies, the woman he’s loved for years is sitting in prison to pay for it, and we’re coming closer … We’ll have to be careful. Desperate men who’ve murdered twice don’t tend to stop from killing again.”

  “So how do we get a confession?” she asked.

  “Someone he trusts needs to talk to him and get him to open up,” he said.

  “Me?” Petunia asked.

  “No, he knows you’re helping me. It has to be someone he thinks will help him stay out of our way …,” he replied thoughtfully.

  “Maybe his father,” she suggested. “He might be able to convince him that confessing is what he needs to do on a spiritual level.”

  “The good bishop will never help us,” Asher replied. “He was willing to let Ike run amok for two years and hadn’t disciplined him like he would any other man behaving the way Ike did, all because he was his son. There is no way he’d throw Obadiah under the buggy, so to speak, just to help us find justice. He’ll be loyal to his son.”

  “Then who?” she asked. “Because Rosie and Lovina will be loyal to him too! And I don’t think poor Hadassah can handle any more. She’s quite young.”

  “I’m thinking that if Jonathan is right about Obadiah’s feelings for Eden, he just might fess up for her.”

  “You think?” She ran the idea over in her mind. Obadiah had had feelings for Eden for a long time. Had the guilt of leaving her in jail been eating away at him? “Yah, he might … In fact, Eden might be the only one who could.”

  “But I’ll need you to help me convince Eden to cooperate with this,” he said. “She’s an honest woman, and I know that being deceitful—even for a good reason—is going to be tough for her. But we’ve got to get at the truth somehow.”

  He was right. It would be tough, but the next twenty years of Eden’s life, and that of her unborn child, was on the line. Eden deserved to raise her baby. Her baby deserved to have a mother.

  “I’ll do my best,” Petunia said.

  When they got back to the Borough of Blueberry Police Department, Petunia was still thinking over her argument to convince Eden to help them, and she wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings. Asher parked the car, then slammed his hands into the steering wheel.

  “Seriously?” he muttered, and opened the door and got out.

  Petunia sat there for a moment in surprise, then pushed her door open. What had just happened? She’d never seen Asher give in to frustration before.

  “Come on! Hurry up!” Asher called. “You see that van?”

  There was a green Pennsylvania Correctional Institution van parked in front of the station.

  “What’s happening?” Petunia asked breathlessly.

  “They’re transporting Eden to the prison until the trial,” he said. “And we need one last interview with her before she goes.”

  To prison … Petunia’s heart thudded to a stop in her chest. They were transporting poor Eden to some vile place where angry, violent criminals were kept. Petunia scurried to catch up with Asher, and strode into the station behind him.

  “I need twenty minutes with Eden Beiler,” Asher announced as he swept inside. “Then you can take her.”

  “We’re on a schedule here,” a uniformed man said. He looked down at a digital watch on his wrist.

  “Then get your boss on the phone. I’m not releasing her just yet. Soon, I promise, but I need to speak with her once more before you transport.”

  There was muttering and heaved sighs, but the man dialed on his cell phone and turned away from them.

  “Good,” Asher said. “I don’t know how much time I bought us, but we’re going to make the most of it. Let’s go.”

  Asher unlocked the door to the cell room, and he led the way inside. Eden’s cell was bare now—no more quilts, no more books—and she sat on the edge of the bed looking pale.

  “Petunia!” she jumped to her feet. “They’re taking me to somewhere far away. I don’t know where!”

  Petunia had a good idea, but she didn’t want to be the one to tell her. She reached through the bars to hold Eden’s cold hands.

  “Eden, we think we know who did it,” Petunia said.

  “You know? Who?”

  “Obadiah Schlabach.”

  “Obie?” Eden frowned. “I don’t get it. Why on earth would Obie do that?”

  “I think that the details of why should remain private for now,” Asher cut in. “The less you know right now, the better. Besides, we don’t have much time. They’re here to transport you out, and if we’re going to prove anything, we need your help.”

  “Mine?” Eden asked. “What can I do?”

  “Unfortunately, we’re going to need you to lie …” Petunia winced.

  “No. I won’t do it.” Eden shook her head.

  “It’s a misleading statement meant to draw the real killer out into the open,” Asher said. “And if Obadiah is innocent, he won’t take the bait. You’ll be helping yourself, and possibly helping him if he hasn’t done anything.”

  “What am I supposed to say?” Eden asked hesitantly.

  “I want you to write Obadiah a letter,” Asher said, handing her a pad of paper and a pen. “I want you to tell him that we’ve discovered that you’re innocent, and you’re going home. And then you need to tell him that you know who killed Ike. You saw it happen. And you need to talk to him alone.”

  “That is a big lie …”

  “Would you rather have your baby in prison?” Petunia asked. “Would you rather have Ike’s killer walking around free? What about justice?”

  “I hate what this will make me,” Eden said. “I’m not a liar.”

  “You aren’t a killer, either!”

  It took Eden a moment, but finally she nodded. “Okay …”

  Eden wrote the note quickly, and toward the end of it she asked, “Where should I say we need to meet?”

  “At the ice house,” Asher said. “Tonight at eleven.”

  “Okay …” Eden added the line, then signed her name. “There.” She handed it through the bars just as the door opened and the uniformed man came inside.

  “Sorry, my boss says we move now,” he said.

  Asher nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

  Asher opened the door, and snapped some handcuffs on Eden’s slim wrists. He tightened them and gave her a sad smile.

  “Good luck out there, Eden,” Asher said. “We’ll do the best we can here.”

  “Where am I going?” Eden asked, panic in her voice.

  “You’re going to the penitentiary,” the man said. “Easy now. No funny business.”

  As if Eden would suddenly try to fight a man with a gun. Petunia blinked back tears as Eden was led out of her cell. Eden looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide and her chin trembling.

  “We’re going to get him!” Petunia called after her. “I promise!”