An Evil Heart (Kate Burkholder, #15)(38)

I have my card at the ready. “If you think of anything else that might be important, will you get in touch with me?”

Shaking his head, he drops the card into his pocket without looking at it and walks away.



* * *



Jealousy is a powerful emotion, especially when it bears down on an immature, insecure, or violent mind. Infidelity is betrayal in its most insidious form and has been the basis for countless murders. Gideon Troyer had every reason to be angry with Karn; he had every right to be jealous. That he admitted it when asked doesn’t exclude him from suspicion. Some people believe lies are somehow more convincing when they skate that razor’s edge of truth. Usually, those are the individuals who excel at hiding the evil that lurks in the darkest corners of their heart.

The stink of hog manure hangs heavy in the air when I park in front of the Byler farm and shut down the engine. I’m midway to the door when someone calls my name. I turn to see Clara Byler striding toward me, a wire basket filled with brown chicken eggs at her side.

“Looks like your hens are good producers,” I say as I cross to her.

“They sure eat enough.” The Amish woman says the words with a smile, but I can tell by her expression she’s not pleased to see me. “Thought I’d make noodles for supper.”

“How is Emily doing?” I ask.

“Having a hard go of it.” She glances toward the house. “Funeral’s in two days. She’s just beside herself. Cries all day.” She sighs. “Bloosich.” Depressed.

“I know this is a bad time, but I need to ask her some questions.”

She tightens her mouth, doesn’t respond.

“About Gideon Troyer.”

Her gaze snaps to mine. “Oh.”

If I hadn’t been looking for a reaction, I would have missed the quicksilver wince at the mention of Troyer’s name. “You should have told me about him,” I say quietly.

She looks down at the basket of eggs.

The Amish code of silence, I think.

“You talked to Gideon?” she asks after a moment.

“About an hour ago.”

She puts her hand over her mouth. “Did he…”

“All I can tell you is that it’s an open investigation. We’ve not made an arrest. The most important thing I need right now in order to do my job is information.”

Grimacing, she nods.

I send a pointed look toward the house. “I wouldn’t ask to speak with Emily if it wasn’t important.”

“Sitz dich anne.” Sit yourself there. She motions toward a picnic table beneath a big elm tree in the side yard. “Might do her some good to be outside, I guess. Get some fresh air and sun. I’ll go fetch her.”

Nearly ten minutes pass before I hear the slam of the screen door. I glance over to see Emily shuffle down the steps and start toward me. There’s a gauntness about her that hadn’t been there before. Angry-looking patches of acne glow red on her forehead and chin. A greasy-looking strand of hair hangs from a kapp that isn’t quite clean. She moves as if in slow motion, her eyes as dull as tarnished brass.

“Hi.” I rise when she reaches me. “How are you holding up?”

“Okay.” She slides onto the bench seat across from me, her shoulders sagging.

“I know this is a tough time, so I won’t keep you.” I reclaim my seat. “I understand you were involved with Gideon Troyer before you started seeing Aden.”

Her eyes widen and she looks around as if looking for a place to run. “Oh … well.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You can talk to me.”

“W-we went out a few times. You know, to a frolic or singing. That sort of thing.”

Singings are social gatherings for Amish teenagers, usually held after morning worship. Unmarried young people gather, sing songs, and socialize. During summer months, they might set up volleyball nets and both girls and boys play.

“How serious was your relationship?” I ask.

“It was … I mean … I don’t think it was that serious.”

It’s an indeterminate answer. Is she uneasy discussing Troyer because he’s the bishop’s grandson? Or because she two-timed him? “I know who he is,” I tell her. “Anything you and I talk about today, I’ll keep confidential if I can, okay?”

Another swallow followed by a nod.

“How serious was the relationship?”

“We liked each other just fine.”

“Who broke up with whom?” I ask.

“I quit him. I mean, Gideon was nice, but when I met Aden…” She sighs as if remembering. “I just knew he was the one. Mamm and Datt liked him better, too. They thought Gideon was too old for me.”

“Was Gideon upset when you broke up with him?”

“Well, he wasn’t very happy. More hurt than angry.” Her brows knit. “I think he understood.”

“Was there a period of time when you were seeing both boys at the same time?”

Color infuses her face, confirming what I’ve already been told. “I tried not to do that, but Aden was so … good to me. And Gideon … just kept coming back…”

“Were there any problems between Aden and Gideon?”