Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One (3 page)

There was an edge to the boy’s voice that set Luke’s sensors on alert. “No. I’m helping a friend out.”

“Must be some friend.”

“He’s the best. I went to the police academy with Mose Kramer,” he explained, taking a stab in the dark that the boy knew the county’s deputy sheriff.

As he’d expected, the boy froze.

Luke was just about to explain his purpose for visiting when the Amish man’s voice cut through the space.

“Enough with the questions, Walker. Customers don’t come in here to be pestered.”

Before Luke could jump in and say that the boy was no trouble, the older man puffed up his chest a bit and stepped forward. “What can we help you with? Need a chicken?” He grinned good-naturedly. “This one’s cheap.”

“I’ll pass,” Luke said with a laugh. “I like my chicken sealed in plastic containers or, better yet, fully cooked and on a plate.” He walked forward. “I’m actually here to speak with Walker.”

The older man’s eyes darted to the kid and they exchanged a look.

Luke could tell the older man was not only the boy’s boss, but a good friend of his. For a split-second, he debated whether to tell the complete truth. In the end, he decided to keep things open and honest. “I’m investigating Perry’s death.”

The elderly man sucked in his breath while the kid stilled. “But we’ve all talked to Sheriff Kramer,” the man said. “Don’t think there’s anything more to tell ya.”

“I know. I’m just going to ask a couple more questions.” Turning to the older man, he said, “I assume you’re Mr. Schrock?”

“I am.”

“I’m sorry about Perry’s death. I understand he worked for you for several years.”

Something flashed in the man’s eyes before he nodded. “Perry, his going missing, then turning up like he did? It’s been a difficult thing, for sure.” After clearing his throat, he said, “The store’s empty. You want to speak with Walker in here? I need to go in the back and put this hen in a better cage.”

“It’s up to you, Walker. Is it okay to talk right here?”

After glancing at his boss for the space of a breath, Walker shook his head. “Can we just go sit in your car or something?”

“Sure. We can do that. We can go sit wherever you want,” Luke said easily.

But as he led the way outside, a familiar buzzing sounded in his ears.

He knew what that buzzing was—after ten years on the force, he’d gotten real good at sensing when someone was putting their guard up.

And that was definitely the case with this kid. Something was going on with him. And maybe with the man, too. Their expressions were too shuttered, their words too forced.

Well, Luke was here to break down those walls and find out exactly what Walker knew.

Chapter 3

“Perry didn’t necessarily care to work. But, of course, what boy his age does?”

M
R.
S
CHROCK

W
alker thought the policeman looked completely out of place in Crittenden County. With his pressed khakis, starched white dress shirt, and polished loafers, he looked like he would be more at ease just about anywhere but the middle of rural Kentucky.

Actually, the man looked more like an insurance salesman or a banker than a cop. Well, except for the cane he was using and the brace fastened on top of his left leg.

Then there was the way the man’s eyes seemed to notice every detail in his path. He was definitely more than a little scary to be around.

“So, you want to go sit in my Explorer?”

It was pretty evident that the guy was in no hurry to sit with his leg all bent up. “We don’t have to sit there; I just didn’t want to talk in front of Mr. Schrock.”

“Fair enough. Let’s walk a bit.” Knocking his knuckles against the brace, he almost smiled. “It will do my leg some good. You tell me when you want to stop.”

The man’s manner was too easy, his words were too agreeable. Felt fake. It made Walker nervous. “Sir, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. Why do you ask?”

Yeah, why had he? “I don’t know.” Feeling dumber by the second, he added, “I guess I just wanted to know a little bit more about you. You said you and Sheriff Kramer were friends . . .”

“Yep. We don’t seem much alike, huh?”

“No, sir.”

“Funny thing, friendship. It can spring up between the most unlikely people,” he said cryptically. “Do you want to know anything more about me?”

Walker wanted to know a whole lot more, beginning with why the man was bothering him, why he was here in Marion, if he was carrying a gun, and if he’d ever shot somebody. But if he asked all his questions, the man would probably answer them all— and then Walker would feel obligated to talk a lot, too.

And he didn’t want to do that. “Nope. I’m good.”

“I wanted to talk to you about Perry Borntrager.” He paused. “You knew him?”

Warily, Walker looked around them. The parking lot was empty. So was the wide front porch that ran the length of the store. His friendship with Perry had never been a secret, but now even mentioning the guy’s name felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t. “I knew Perry. Sure.”

“He worked here awhile, right?”

He’d worked at Schrock’s for years. “Right.”

“Were you friends?”

“Kind of.” When the detective stopped and stared at him, Walker felt even more uneasy. “We worked together, me, Jacob, and Perry.”

“Jacob . . .”

“Jacob Schrock. He’s out of town.”

“Really? Kind of poor timing, don’t you think?”

“Jacob’s at a horse auction in Lexington.” At least that what he was telling everyone.

The detective pointed to a bench under a tree that protected them from the rain that was starting to fall. “Here okay to sit? Leg’s starting to cramp.”

“Sure.”

As Walker plopped down on the bench, far more slowly, the other man sat, gingerly placing his palms on the seat of the bench before easing down next to him. Then he pulled out a notebook and pen and wrote a couple of things down. “So you boys worked together. And now Jacob is out of town . . .” He paused, then looked at Walker directly. “And what do you think happened to Perry?”

The man was making him really nervous. The way his gaze zeroed in on him made Walker feel like he could practically read his mind. “I think someone tossed him down a well.” Though his answer was unoriginal, Walker couldn’t help but grin. After all, that was all anyone really knew about what had happened to Perry.

The detective didn’t look amused.

“Let’s try this again. What do you think happened to Perry, before he was dumped in an abandoned well and left to rot for months?”

Walker felt himself flush. As his mind raced to imagine what Perry had looked like, broken and decaying, he started feeling woozy. “I don’t know, sir.”

Before Walker could take another breath, the detective continued. “I’m wondering who would have any reason to hurt him.”

“I don’t know.”

As the man stretched his leg and sighed, Walker wished that he was anywhere but here.

“Before I came here, I spoke with Lydia Plank. She knew Perry pretty well. You know her, right?”

“I’ve met her,” Walker corrected. “I don’t know her well. She’s Amish.”

“Perry was Amish and you knew him.”

“That was different. I worked with Perry.”

After pausing, and staring at him too long, the detective nodded. “Ah. Well, Lydia told me Perry had picked up some bad habits.”

“Not really,” Walker said quickly, then wondered why in the world he’d even come to Perry’s defense. The guy had lied and hurt more people than Walker could count. Months ago, he’d sworn to himself that he’d never do anything for that guy again. “I mean, everything wasn’t bad.”

“So when was he good?”

The question caught him off guard. Was it really that simple? That someone was good, then bad? Switching personalities like a light switch? “I don’t know . . .”

“You must have an idea,” the detective prodded. “I mean, you seem like a pretty together guy. Mr. All-American. I’m sure you weren’t hanging around a loser.”

Walker squirmed and wished again that he was sitting anywhere other than where he was. “Perry was a decent guy when I first met him, which was about four years ago. He wasn’t my favorite person, but he was good enough to hang out with.”

“Even though he was Amish?”

With effort, Walker kept his expression neutral. People who didn’t live in their community just didn’t understand what it was like, living with the Amish. They seemed to think the two groups lived side by side and never intermingled.

Or they thought all the good people drove buggies and all the bad ones drove cars. “Just because a person is Amish doesn’t mean he’s all that different,” he said slowly. “All it means is his religion is different.”

“Ah.” It was obvious the detective was struggling to understand what Walker meant, but Walker wasn’t in any hurry to give some outsider a tutorial on living with the Amish.

“Anyway,” Walker said. “Perry used to be okay, but then, things happened . . .”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Walker replied, glad that at least this was true. “Perry got mixed up with some bad people and started doing some things I didn’t want to be around.”

“Bad, like how?”

Walker turned to Luke in surprise. He’d thought Perry’s activities were well known. “Bad, like drugs. Bad, like drug dealers.” He paused and backpedaled fast. “I mean, that’s what people said.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“I don’t know.” He shifted. No way was he going into any more detail. Why had he even said anything?

“Did you meet these drug dealers?”

“No.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Sure?”

Walker hated the guy’s voice, like he was being super sarcastic. “I never met his drug dealers, okay?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how Perry, who was Amish, would ever meet up with someone who sold drugs.” He paused. “Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around? That you were the one who introduced Perry to the ‘bad’ people?”

Walker was stunned. The sheriff had never asked stuff like this. “I didn’t.”

“I’m not here to get you in trouble, son . . .”

The “son” comment grated on him like nothing else. “Just because Perry was Amish doesn’t mean he was innocent,” he snapped. Giving into his temper. “You outsiders think you know everything. You don’t. And just because I’m the
Englischer
doesn’t mean I’m going around smoking pot.”

“Ah, so that’s what he was selling?”

“I don’t know,” he said quickly. “I just was using that as an example.” If only Perry had just been selling pot. But he knew the drugs were a whole lot worse than that.

The detective nodded. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Every once in a while I find myself slipping into the hope that the Amish are immune to the outside pressures of the world.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve seen so much, I guess I hope that there are some people in this world who didn’t screw up their lives so much.”

“I’m not Amish, but my grandfather is. He might not have all the pressures of the outside world, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have pressure in his life. We all do. And we all react differently.”

“That’s a good point.” He drummed his fingers on one of the metal braces surrounding his leg, then twisted two fingers and cracked his knuckles. The popping jarred against the sleepy sound of the pattering rain.

Then the detective turned to Walker, his expression completely void of emotion. “So far you’ve told me nothing I didn’t already know. Tell me something new.”

Pure relief filtered through Walker’s bones. For a minute there he’d thought he’d let something slip. “I don’t have anything else to tell you,” Walker said quickly, doing his best to sound as detached as he wished he was. “I once was friends with the guy. Then I wasn’t. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Okay, well, what can you tell me about these drug dealers. Where did they come from? Were they local?” He paused. “You’re in college, right? Maybe they came from your college?”

“I don’t know where they came from,” he retorted. “I never knew their names.” Feeling Luke’s skepticism bearing down hard on his shoulders, he added, “I didn’t want to know.” Looking out across the parking lot, at the thicket of trees, he ached to get away. To hide. To be anywhere but here being questioned.

“Were the guys Amish?”

Walker shook his head before he thought the better of it.

And that made the detective smile.

But still Luke didn’t look like he believed a word of it. “Come on, Walker. Give me something I can use. Don’t you want to know what happened to your friend? What were they? English? Amish? Old? Young?”

Walker felt his world about to change. The last thing he wanted was to get further sucked down into Perry’s pit. “Both,” he finally said.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “The drug dealers were both English and Amish?”

“No. They were all English. They were both old and young.”

“And their ages?”

“Late teens, early twenties,” Walker said, feeling as helpless as a bug in a spider’s web. “Maybe someone even older, closer to thirty.”

“From around here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Walker. Talk to me.”

“All I know is they didn’t go to high school with me. But the county is big, and a lot of kids don’t go to the public school. They were homeschooled or they drop out.”

“What do you know about Perry and Lydia?”

The change in questioning made his head spin. Clenching his jaw so his voice wouldn’t shake he said, “They dated for a while. Then they broke up a few months ago. ”

“And you said you don’t know her well?”

“I know her well enough to say hi on the street, that’s about it.”

“She never confided in you?”

“Back when they were dating, they were Amish, I was not. It’s not like Lydia would have had any reason to confide in me. We weren’t friends.”

“What were Perry and Lydia like together?”

Walker felt his mouth go dry. The detective was pushing all kinds of memories forward that he would have been perfectly happy to forget. “When they were still together, before Perry got mixed up in . . . they were good. Perry . . . he used to say that he’d do just about anything to make her smile.”

The detective raised his eyebrow. “Why? Was she not normally happy?”

“I think she was normally quiet. Perry could be outrageous,” he clarified. Remembering a time when Perry had made Lydia laugh so hard she started crying.

“Outrageous, how?”

Just remembering made Walker smile. “One time Perry got a hold of a unicycle.”

“A unicycle?” the detective prodded.

“Yeah, like the circus clowns use? Anyway, somehow, he’d taught himself to ride it. One day, Lydia came to the store and he rode that thing down the center aisle. Just as he got close, he lost control and knocked over a display of baked goods.” Before he could stop himself, Walker found himself grinning. “Mr. Schrock was fit to be tied, but Lydia had laughed and laughed. Perry later said hearing her so happy was worth his punishment.” Looking at the detective, Walker took a breath and spoke from his heart. “That’s how Perry used to be, Detective. He was my friend. But once he changed . . . Either way, he didn’t deserve to be murdered.”

Luke stared at him for a long moment, then shifted and pulled out a card from his wallet. “Well, I’ll be here awhile looking into Perry’s death. Take this and give me a call if you remember something new. Call anytime, day or night. Okay?”

“Okay. Sure.” He stood up and started walking before the detective got to his feet. But once he rounded the corner of the building, his footsteps slowed. And suddenly, it was impossible to not think about better days, easier times.

Back when he and Perry had been partners in crime . . . but just the kind of crime that meant harmless shenanigans and lots of laughs.

“Hey, Walker,” Perry called out as he flew through the front door. Late again. “Don’t tell Schrock, okay?”

Walker crossed his arms over his chest and tried to sound irritated. “Where were you?”

“With Lydia.”

“Again. And what were the two of you doing that made you lose track of time?” he’d asked. Just to give Perry grief.

But in a flash, Perry’s whole demeanor changed. “Nothing like that, English. Lydia’s a nice girl. She’s special.”

He held up his hands. “Sorry! I was just kidding. You know that, right?”

But Perry walked right by, snubbing him. Walker knew that the damage was done. Perry was going to hold a grudge for the rest of the day. . . .

The detective’s car door slamming brought him back to the present. Shaking his head at the memory, he strode into the store.

But the moment she saw him, Mrs. Schrock clicked her tongue in dismay. “Walker, you’re soaked to the skin! Go in the back and dry off before you catch your death.”