An Evil Heart (Kate Burkholder, #15)(37)

At some point after I went to bed, Tomasetti’s cell phone sounded loudly. I vaguely remember a murmured apology as he rolled out of bed, and the brush of a kiss on my cheek before he left.

It’s a little after seven A.M. when I make the turn onto the road where Gideon Troyer lives. I’ve just pulled into the narrow lane that bisects a cornfield when I spot the elevator hood of the picker skimming the tops of the corn. I stop and get out to the clank-and-rumble of the picker. The contraption is a single-row, which means it only picks one row of corn at a time, and is being pulled by two aged Percheron horses. A wagon has been attached to the rear of the picker, where the cleaned ears of corn are thrown by the elevator belt. An Amish man stands on the platform section of the picker, leather lines in hand, and guides the horses between the rows. It’s painstaking physical labor that, for a field this size, will take several dawn-to-dusk workdays to finish.

I cross through the ditch and climb over the fence at the edge of the field. I’m not sure he’ll stop; honestly, I wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t. Still, I stand there at the edge of the field and wait. I know from my research that Gideon Troyer is twenty-four years old. Blond hair sticks out from a straw summer hat. Blue eyes. The description from the Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles fits.

I’m relieved when I hear his shouted “Whoa!” over the rattle of the machinery.

“Looks like it’s going to be a good harvest,” I call out to him in Deitsch as I traverse the distance between us.

“God gave us abundant rain in the spring and a nice, dry fall.” He wraps the leather lines around a wooden knob and climbs down. “You here about Aden?” he asks in English.

I nod. “So you know what happened to him.”

“All the Amish know,” he says.

“I won’t keep you long. Just a few questions.”

He glances back at the horses. “They could use a break, anyway.”

I take him through the most pressing central questions, watching his reactions, but he answers each inquiry without hesitation. He’s known Karn most of his life. They went to school together, but weren’t close. Last time he saw Karn was at worship a few weeks ago. They didn’t speak. Troyer seems to be a straightforward guy. Serious-minded. More focused on harvesting corn than my questions—or what happened to Karn.

“I understand you were seeing Emily Byler for a time,” I say.

“Ah.” He cocks his head, looks at me from beneath the brim of his hat. “I reckon that’s the reason you’re here.”

I nod. “I’m questioning everyone who knew or had contact with Karn.”

He looks out over the field, then jerks his head. “I courted her for a bit.”

“I heard it was more serious than that.”

“I thought it was serious. I mean, I’m the age when a man starts thinking about a wife. A family.”

“You asked her to marry you?”

“I reckon I did.” He sighs, looks over at the horses, and then back at me. “Em had other plans, I guess.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He frowns, letting me know the question is too personal. He’s astute enough to know he has to answer. “Aden had his own ideas about courting her. Came on strong. They carried on behind my back. Kept me in the dark.”

“Were you sleeping with her?”

“I ain’t going to say.”

“Were Aden and Emily sleeping together?”

“I reckon you’ll have to ask her.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Chief Burkholder. I didn’t like it. The guy stole my girl right out from under me. They carried on behind my back. Made a fool of me.”

“Did you confront Aden?”

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes sweat from the back of his neck. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to answer the question.”

“Yeah, I confronted him. We argued. I could have punched him or done worse, but I didn’t. I’m Amish and that’s not our way. You should know that, but I’m not sure you do.”

“Did you threaten him?” I ask.

“I told him to stay away from my girl.”

“Have you ever been to Karn’s house?”

“Just that one time,” he says.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“I told you I saw him at worship three weeks ago.”

“Where were you the morning of October second?” I ask.

“I was here.” He motions to the corn picker. “Fixed a wheel on that thing. Took me a couple days.”

“Can anyone substantiate that?”

“I reckon not. These geldings ain’t much for conversation.”

I nod. “Do you own a crossbow?”

He laughs. “Oh boy. I guess you do think I did it.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d just answer the question.”

“I got a compound bow. A nice one. Killed me a dozen bucks with it over the years.”

“Have you used it recently?”

“Last time I shot it was about a year ago. During the season. Got me a ten-pointer.” He looks at me and sighs. “The one thing I didn’t do was shoot Aden Karn with it.” He looks over his shoulder at the team of horses and the corn picker. “I gotta get back to work.”