Down a Dark Road (Kate Burkholder #9)

“Hi.” I offer a smile. “I’m Kate. Are your parents home?”

Never taking his eyes from mine, he calls out, “Mamm! Mir hen Englischer bsuch ghadde!” We have a non-Amish visitor!

I step aside and the boy blasts past me, making his escape through the door.

“Can I help you?”

I turn my attention to the Amish woman standing in the kitchen doorway, a red-and-white-checked towel in her hands. I guess her to be in her mid-thirties. She’s wearing a light blue dress with a white apron and kapp. She’s small, barely over five feet tall, with dark brown hair and eyes. A buttermilk complexion and a smattering of freckles on a turned-up nose.

“Mrs. Beachy?”

“Ja.” Her eyes sweep over my uniform. “What’s wrong?”

I identify myself and show her my badge as I step into the mudroom. “I’d like to talk to you and your husband for a few minutes. May I come inside?”

Concern tightens her expression. She starts toward me. “Has something happened?”

“It’s about Joseph King,” I tell her. “Is Mr. Beachy home?”

“Joseph? Has he been hurt? Has he—”

Her words are cut off when a tall Amish man emerges from the kitchen. He’s clad in typical garb—blue work shirt, dark trousers with suspenders, and a flat-brimmed straw hat. I estimate his age to be around forty or so.

“What happened to Joe?” he asks.

No smile for me. He doesn’t acknowledge his wife as he brushes past her to confront me.

I tell them about the call from the prison. When I finish, they both fall silent, their expressions troubled.

“Eah is am shpringa,” the Amish woman whispers. He’s running.

I nod. “Yes, he is.”

“You think he’s coming here?” Daniel asks. “You’re here to warn us?”

“I don’t know where he’ll go,” I say. “The police are looking for him. But I thought you should know, so you can stay alert and keep your family safe.”

“The children.” Rebecca’s hand goes to the collar of her dress. Her fingers flutter nervously over the fabric. The couple exchange a look.

They’re spooked, I realize. After everything I’ve heard about King, they should be.

“Is there a place we can sit and talk?” I ask.

Daniel motions to the door. “Dess vayk.” This way.

Rebecca leads us to a big country kitchen with cabinets painted seafoam green, off-white Formica countertops, and a pitted porcelain sink. It’s a typical Amish kitchen, large and plain and cluttered with the tools of everyday living. An old-fashioned percolator coffeepot sits upside down in a dish drainer. A Dutch oven rests atop the stove. There’s a bottle of vitamins on the windowsill. A rosemary plant flourishes in a terra-cotta planter. A lantern sits in the center of a rectangular table draped with a checkered tablecloth and surrounded by eight chairs.

When the three of us are seated, Daniel says, “You’re the one who used to be Amisch.”

“Yes.” I don’t miss the flash of disapproval in his eyes. But it’s fleeting and tempered with curiosity. We’re not here to talk about me or debate my decision to leave the fold. I turn my attention to Rebecca. “Naomi was your sister?”

She nods. “She married Joseph when she was just eighteen. He was still on Rumspringa. And so handsome. But there was a darkness inside him. And anger, I think. I tried to tell Naomi that something wasn’t right with him. But she was crazy about him. All she talked about was getting married and starting a family. She couldn’t wait to have children. She’d loved them so…” She breaks off, shaking her head.

“You were close to your sister?” I ask.

“Especially when we were younger. After she married…” She shrugs. “Things … changed.”

“How so?” I ask.

“We didn’t approve of him,” Daniel says flatly. “Especially later.”

His wife presses her lips together and continues. “Daniel and I visited them as often as we could. Especially after the babies came. And of course we always saw them at worship.”

“How was her relationship with Joseph?”

“At first, everything seemed okay. Naomi said he was a good husband. I could see for myself he was good with the children. He yelled at them a lot, but … I just thought he was strict.” Another shrug. “Some men are just that way, you know.”

“He was good to her when others were watching,” Daniel interjects.

I keep my eyes on Rebecca. “And when no one was watching?”

“There were … problems,” Rebecca tells me. “Joseph had a weakness for alcohol and a temper to boot.”

Bad combination, I think. “Was he abusive to her?”

“The police arrested him for it,” Daniel replies.

“Did he hit her?” I press.

The couple exchange another look and shake their heads. “He was careful not to let anyone see that side of him,” Daniel tells me.

“But we think he was cruel to her.” Rebecca’s voice falters. “Mean, you know.”

We fall silent. Through the open window, I can hear the children playing outside. The puppy barking. A rooster crowing from someplace nearby.

“Did either of you visit Joseph in prison?” I ask.

Daniel shakes his head. “After what he did to Naomi, we washed our hands of him.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?” I ask.

“The trial,” Daniel says.

“We wanted to believe him at first,” Rebecca tells me. “He seemed heartbroken that Naomi was gone. But … there were just too many bad things against him.”

“He was a leeyah.” Liar. Daniel grimaces. “What happened … it was … gottlos.” Ungodly. “What kind of man wants his wife gone? What kind of man kills in cold blood?”

“We prayed for him up until the end,” Naomi says. “We didn’t want to believe Joseph could do such a thing.”

“We still pray for his soul, but we’re done with him,” Daniel says.

“Er is ganz ab,” Rebecca whispers. He was out of his mind.

“Has he had any contact with the children?” I ask.

“No,” Rebecca replies.

I look at Daniel. “Does he want to see them?”

“Throughout the trial,” he tells me, “Joseph claimed to miss them. He seemed desperate. He wanted to see them. We always made an excuse.” The Amish man shrugs. “After what he did … Finding their mother the way they did. It was so bad.”

“How are the kids doing?” I ask.

“Better,” Rebecca tells me. “They miss their mamm, of course. Crazy as it sounds, they miss their datt, too.”

“Do they understand what happened?”

Daniel shakes his head. “We thought it best not to tell them.” He shrugs. “Maybe when they’re older.”

Tears gather in Rebecca’s eyes. “Can you imagine? Your datt killing your mamm? Mein Gott.” My God.

“Shush now,” Daniel tells her, as if sensing the approach of some emotional storm. “They’ve adjusted, they way kids do. We keep them busy. With work. Worship.”

“They’re happy here with us, I think.” Rebecca smiles, but tears shimmer in her eyes. “Naomi is surely watching over them from heaven. Keeping an eye on all of us.”

“The two of you probably know Joseph better than anyone.” I divide my attention between them. “Did he ever mention escape?”