Secrets in the Grave (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 3) Read Free Page A

he sounded cautious.
    “That’s the feeling I got from the man. We won’t rush to judgment on the matter until I conduct the autopsy.”
    “It doesn’t make sense. In Naomi Beiler’s case, the bishop wanted nothing more than to cover up the entire incident so that he could resolve the issue vigilante style. Now he’s begging for our help with a matter that probably isn’t even criminal,” I said, hoping that Bobby would see my aversion to getting involved.
    “Maybe Aaron Esch is afraid,” Todd muttered.
    I leaned over. “Afraid of what?”
    Todd’s shrug made the back of my neck tingle. “Sounds like voodoo shit to me,” Todd replied. “I watched this show a while back about a crazy medicine woman in Haiti who was taking out her enemies in this fishing town. They were just dropping one after the other, for no apparent reason.”
    “I’m sure that most of those deaths can be attributed to poisons of some kind. There is also a theory about the mind’s ability to cause damage to the body when a person truly believes they’ve had a curse put on them,” Bobby added.
    I held up my hand. “Whoa. We’re talking about the Amish here, not some superstitious witchcraft religion on an island.” I scoffed.
    “Voodoo isn’t what you think it is. I’ve spent some time over the years studying foreign cultures. For the most part, it’s a spiritual religion, comprised of a type of folk magic.” Bobby rested his arms over the front seat.
    I turned to him. “Do you really believe there’s magic involved in any of these cult practices.”
    He shrugged, settling back into his seat. “Not everything can be proven or understood by science.”
    “I agree. Have you heard about those people who spontaneously burst into flames? I watched a special about it the other night…”
    I blocked Todd’s ramblings and stared out the window. Among the mostly bare branches in the groves we passed were clusters of pinkish-purplish flowers. I caught a scent of blossoms on the breeze and inhaled. The grass bursting from the earth was such a lush green it almost looked fake.
    “Here’s the place.” Bobby pointed his bony finger between Todd and me.
    Jeremy’s cruiser and an ambulance were parked beside a small, white farmhouse. Four buggies were already lined up on the gravel driveway.
    Thudding my head against the headrest, I grumbled, “It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the Amish show up when something bad happens. This must be the closest thing to a TV show they have.”
    “What has you in such a foul mood?” Bobby clucked his tongue. “A young woman has died. Adjust your attitude to the circumstances,” he ordered.
    I overlooked Todd’s smirking face. Bobby was right. I was being a bitch. And it wasn’t just about Daniel. A couple of months earlier, I’d shot a man named Asher Schwartz. He’d deserved it and I wasn’t suffering remorse over his death, but another innocent person had died on my watch. The image of Jotham Hochstetler bleeding out on the Amish schoolhouse floor was seared into my consciousness, like Naomi’s pale and lifeless form in the cornfield. Over time, a cop became desensitized to cruelty and death, but for me, the pictures didn’t go away.
    I took a measured breath and straightened my sunglasses, putting on my best game face. “What’s the woman’s name?”
    “Fannie Kuhns. Twenty-one years old,” Bobby said.
    As Todd parked the car, my eyes skimmed the crowd of darkly clad people gathered in front of the house. I spotted the tall silhouette of Bishop Aaron Esch and the round one of James Hooley, one of the ministers. Moses Bachman, Daniel’s father, was with them, along with several other long-bearded Amish men I recognized and a couple I didn’t.
    I couldn’t stop my heart from racing. Walking into a group of stoic Amish men gave me the creeps and this particular group was worse. They’d held me prisoner in a barn not so long ago. It was fine to forgive, but forgetting