Plain Killing by Emma Miller Page B

all came together to help one another in times of emergencies. And the Peacheys had made out well. Their old barn had been dilapidated, and their neighbors had replaced it with a larger one, built with solid timber that would last for generations—if lightning didn’t strike twice in the same place.
    “Do you have time for a glass of iced tea?” Rachel asked, changing the subject. “I could use a break, and I think Ada baked cookies.”
    Mary Aaron was wearing a faded green dress, no shoes, and a navy scarf rather than a white kapp, which meant she hadn’t come by to pack orders and take them to the post office. She always wore her kapp when she went downtown, and none of the Amish would be seen barefooted on the street, for fear of Englishers staring. Mary Aaron often helped out at Stone Mill House, but she wasn’t an employee. Like most things in Rachel’s life, her relationship with her best friend and cousin was complicated. Mary Aaron wouldn’t tell her why she’d stopped by this afternoon until she was ready, and rushing her would be rude.
    “Ya,” Mary Aaron said. “Iced tea would be good.”
    Fifteen minutes later, the two sat in chairs under the shade of a spreading beech tree, each with a cold glass of tea in her hands. Rachel’s tasted so good that she let her eyes drift closed and sighed with content.
    “It is goot, ” Mary Aaron agreed.
    Rachel opened her eyes in time to see her cousin staring at her intently.
    “Rae-Rae, are you having nightmares?” Mary Aaron asked. She twisted one bare foot into the thick grass and quickly dropped her gaze to her own foot. “About . . . about seeing Beth like that?”
    Rachel nodded. “I am. I think because I’m so worried. The police need to find out who did it.” When Mary Aaron didn’t respond, she went on. “Evan’s helping with the investigation, but the Glicks won’t talk to the police. Mose told Evan to get off his farm. He said other things, worse things, and Evan feels bad about it.”
    “You know how our people are about talking to an Englisher, especially police. I don’t think Mose blames Evan. He might have said it, but only because he was upset. Mose is a good man.”
    “ Ya, he is.”
    “I bet he blames himself,” Mary Aaron continued. “Maybe he thinks that if he’d been a better father, Beth wouldn’t have left and she’d still be alive. He can’t admit that, so he takes it out on your Evan.” She looked up. “You’re going to help find her killer, ya? ”
    Rachel nodded again. A mockingbird lit on a branch and scolded them. “I think I have to.”
    “Maybe we have to. I was there, too. I saw.” Mary Aaron sighed. “Maybe if we found the evil man who did this thing, we could both sleep again.”
    They sat there for a few minutes more, neither saying anything, until Mary Aaron added, “Hannah Verkler went away a year ago. Do you remember? She was a nice girl, a good friend. I knew that she had trouble accepting rules, but she was a good girl. She had good parents, not so strict as the Glicks.” She hesitated. “Last night I dreamed I was at the quarry again. And this time, the girl in the water wasn’t Beth. It was Hannah.”
    Rachel reached for Mary Aaron’s hand and gripped it. “We could try together to reason with the Glicks. Maybe not the parents. Another family member, maybe? I saw a young woman in their kitchen who looked like Beth. A sister, maybe?”
    “Beth has sisters, but I don’t know that they’ll talk to you.” Her cousin nibbled at a lower lip. “I had an idea. Timothy wants me to meet him at a singing Thursday night. I think you should go with me.”
    “To the singing?”
    “ Ya. Some of Timothy’s buddies will be there, and they used to belong to the Cut-Ups. You know, one of the young people gangs. The Cut-Ups aren’t really wild; they don’t get drunk or cause much trouble, but . . .” Mary Aaron shrugged. “Some of them probably have cell phones or radios, and I know some sneak off