Different Paths Read online

  “Randy has a black eye,” Tess said, when the prayer was over.

  “Tess!” Lucy looked horrified. “We don’t need to—”

  “Miranda wants to know what he did.”

  Miranda gasped, and her face bloomed red.

  Randy’s face was about the same color, and he put a hand to his forehead.

  Nick grabbed my knee under the table, and I knew he was trying not to laugh.

  “What?” Tess looked at her mom, who was sitting with her mouth open.

  “It’s just, we don’t…”

  “I got in a fight.” Randy dropped his hand. “I was stupid, I lost my temper, and…” He pointed at his eye. “That’s what happened.”

  Miranda grimaced.

  “But,” Randy said, “you should see the other guy.”

  I let out a laugh, and Randy looked sideways at me. And grinned.

  Tess’ eyebrows crinkled. “What?”

  Randy shook his head. “Nothing. But it was dumb. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve just…”

  We all waited.

  “I don’t know. But something else.”

  I glanced at Miranda, who avoided my eyes. I guessed we should “something else,” too, before things got any worse.

  Lucy looked closer at Randy’s face. “Did you go to the doctor?”

  “Nah. He would’ve just told me to ice it, anyway.”

  “Who’s your doctor?”

  “Dr. Peterson.”

  I sucked in my breath. “Rachel’s dad?”

  He looked confused. “Who?”

  “Never mind.”

  I met Lucy’s eyes, and dropped the subject.

  We finished lunch without any more touchy conversation, everyone full after Lucy’s quick make-in-the-pan chocolate cake.

  Zach looked at Randy. “You ready?”

  “Sure. Thanks for lunch, Lucy.”

  I watched as Randy scooted his chair in. “Where are you off to? Simeon?” His calf.

  “Nah. We’re going to…to the pool.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “To swim?”

  “Yeah. I figured I’d better. And it’ll feel good on my eye, anyway.”

  “Good plan.”

  “We’re off, too,” Lucy said. “If you wouldn’t mind cleaning up the kitchen. Lenny and I told Tess we’d take her to see the new Disney movie, and there’s a matinee at two. I’ll be back for milking.”

  I looked at Nick, and he nodded.

  “We’ll do milking tonight,” I said. “Why don’t you folks take the rest of the day.”

  “Again?”

  “We’ve got extra help.” I had to swallow a laugh on that one.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Yup. Thanks for lunch.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She left, taking Tess with her.

  “Hey, Stella?” Zach was back. “Can you give us a jump? Randy’s car won’t start.”

  Nick stood. “I’ll do it.”

  “But—”

  And he was gone. Miranda still sat at the table, looking at her half-empty plate.

  I opened the dishwasher and began putting silverware into it. Miranda’s chair soon scraped back, and she started to bus the rest of the plates.

  “What’s the problem with the kid’s—Randy’s—doctor?”

  “What?”

  “I saw the look you gave Lucy when he mentioned it. Dr. Peterson, was it?”

  I looked at her. “His daughter was murdered this week. She was my doctor.”

  “But that’s awful.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  Nick came back into the kitchen. “I’m going to follow the guys to the welding shop.” Zach’s dad’s place.

  “Why?”

  “The Caddy doesn’t sound so good. I want to make sure they get there.”

  “Can I come?” Miranda.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  And he was gone again. The ass.

  We didn’t talk anymore, and the kitchen was soon clean. I got the dishwasher going and turned to lean against the counter.

  “So why are you here, Miranda?”

  Her mouth twitched. “Why do you think?”

  “To convince Nick to come home.”

  “Like I could. You think he’ll listen to me?”

  “So why else?”

  She crossed her arms. Uncrossed them. “Because Mom made me.”

  A flash of anger went through me. “To check up on him?”

  “No! No. She wanted…” She ran her fingers through her hair, then flung her hands to the sides. “I’m supposed to see where you’re living and…and…”

  “Get to know me?”

  Her lips twisted into a sort of smile. “Yeah.”

  “Who does she think she is?”

  She gave a little laugh. “She thinks she’s my mother.”

  I looked out the window. “Well, I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m going to work.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here. It’s my work.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “You want to come?”

  She glanced down at her clothes. “Should I change?”

  Just like Missy.

  “Yes. I’ll meet you out in the heifer barn.”

  “Okay.”

  Queenie didn’t greet me at the door, so I figured she must’ve gone with Nick. I walked to the heifer barn, which was mostly empty this time of day. Empty of cows, but full of shit. And the shovel was gone.

  Another trip, to the big barn to get that shovel and tape a new bag over my cast. I also grabbed an extra pitchfork for Miranda.

  Back in the heifer barn I began scraping the dirty straw toward the conveyer belt that would transport it to the manure lagoon. It might be a new barn, but the heifers made the new barn just as dirty as the old one.

  I stopped to take a breather, wiping sweat from my forehead, when I heard the door open.

  “Got a pitchfork here for you, Miranda.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

  I looked up at the sound of a man’s voice. Alan Hershberger.

  “Hey.”

  He smiled, and I figured he mustn’t have talked with Katherine since I’d hit her with the bad news. “Hey, yourself. Working on your own today?”

  My stomach tightened, and I looked behind him. “How about you? You alone, or did you bring the rest for another tour?”

  “I’m alone. Looking for Trevor, actually. He took off this morning and I don’t know where he went. He won’t answer his phone.”

  He sighed and looked around the barn, hands in his pockets. “Stinks in here, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, it is a barn.” I waited. “Look, Alan, Trevor’s not here. Why would he be?”

  “I don’t know. He liked the tour the other day.”

  Right. And Miranda would soon sprout wings and fly on back to Virginia.

  “He said something about maybe doing some work here. Checking in to see if you needed someone.”

  My incredulous reply was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. I scooted past Alan to pick up the extension, leaning the shovel against the wall.

  “Royalcrest Farm.”

  “Stella? It’s Willard.”

  “You have news?”

  “Well, sort of. Do you happen to know if the Hershbergers have a cell phone?”

  I glanced at Alan, and he was looking at the shovel I’d brought from the barn. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “We got a match on the fingerprints, so we need Alan and his son to come in so we can eliminate them and get David back here. Nobody’s answering their home phone.”

  I swallowed. “So I was right.”

  “It appears so.”

  I looked at Alan, sorry for what he was about to go through. I spoke into the phone. “Well, I don’t know about a cell phone, b
ut Alan’s standing right beside me. You can talk to him.”

  “He’s there?”

  “Looking for Trevor. Here.” I held out the phone. “It’s Detective Willard. He needs to talk to you.”

  “Who?”

  “A cop.”

  “Not about Trevor?” He grabbed the phone, a panicked parent, and I got my shovel and went back to cleaning, keeping one ear on Alan’s side of the conversation. I didn’t turn my back.

  Alan soon hung up, his face a mask of surprise. “Seems I need to go to the police department. Get my fingerprints taken. I mean, he says I don’t have to, he can’t require me to, but…”

  “Did he say what for?”

  He looked even more shell-shocked. “To eliminate me as a suspect in the murder of Dr. Peterson.”

  I did my best to look surprised. “What? Why?”

  “I…I don’t know why. Or how they even got anything to check. I haven’t gone to the doctor since we’ve been here. And even if we had, my fingerprints aren’t in any database anywhere that they could match them.” He scrunched up his eyes. “And they want Trevor to come in, too.”

  “Well,” I said. “That’s weird.”

  “Yeah.” He had pulled out a cell phone—so he did have one—and was holding it up to his ear.

  “Trevor, wherever you are, I need you to call me. Please.” He hung up.

  “Who’s here?” Miranda stepped in the door and stopped short at the sight of Alan.

  Alan glanced out at the driveway. “I thought…” He held out his hand. “Alan Hershberger.”

  She hesitated, then took his hand. “Miranda Hathaway. Nick’s sister.”

  “Nick?”

  Miranda looked at me.

  I sighed. “My boyfriend.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know you…” He stopped.

  “Yeah. All right.”

  “I’ll be going then. Thanks.”

  “Good luck.”

  He gave a last little wave and headed out.

  “What’s his problem?” Miranda watched as Alan got in his car and left.

  “No problem.” Well, actually… “He’s just trying to find his son.”

  Miranda looked at the barn, hands on her hips. “You don’t really expect me to clean this.”

  “No, not really.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  It took a moment, but she got it. She snatched the pitchfork from the wall. “I can shovel crap as well as anybody.”

  “And dish it out, too,” I said. But I said it quietly. She was holding a pitchfork, after all.

  Chapter Forty-one

  “So it really was David?” Nick asked.

  “It looks like it. We’ll know for sure once Alan and Trevor get their prints analyzed.” I laid my head against the back of the sofa. We were sitting in the front room, the afghan cushioning our heads. I had my foot, throbbing with the exertion of the day, up on a stool, and held my cold glass of lemonade against my forehead. “They’re going to have a lot to work through in the next few days, with all of this, plus Tricia’s illness that she didn’t tell anyone about.”

  “If it’s true.”

  “If it’s true. And if it is, why didn’t she tell them? I mean, you told your family first thing.”

  “Family is different for different people.” He reached over to take my hand, and held it against his thigh. “Speaking of that, thanks for dealing with this whole Miranda thing. I didn’t know she was coming.”

  “I know. And you’re welcome. I was actually glad she was here earlier, because it felt…uncomfortable when Alan thought I was here alone.”

  He looked at me. “Alan? But I thought it was David who’s been hurting women.”

  “I know. But he’s a man, and he was acting kind of weird.”

  “I thought those things went together?”

  I laughed. “Sometimes.”

  “What are you two laughing about?” Miranda came in and plopped down in a chair.

  Nick’s hold on my hand tightened. “Weird men.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  Nick smiled. “Never mind.”

  “So what’s the plan for supper?”

  “Supper?” I rolled my head sideways to look at her. “We just had lunch.”

  “Yeah, like four hours ago.” And she hadn’t eaten very much.

  I tried to think about what was in the fridge. “I guess we have a frozen pizza. And Lucy gave me some applesauce she froze last summer.”

  Miranda gaped at me. “You have got to be kidding.” She turned to Nick, her voice pleading. “Can we go out for supper? Please?”

  I closed my eyes.

  “What do you think, Stella?” Nick’s voice was soft in my ear. “I’ll pay.”

  I looked at him. “It’s not that. I’m just…tired.”

  His eyes showed his disappointment, which was mirrored in Miranda’s expression.

  “You two go.”

  “No, Stella.”

  “I mean it. I could use a quiet night.”

  “But the milking…”

  “It won’t be the first time I’ve done it alone. Go ahead. And if you get back in time I’ll let Miranda help clean out the stalls.”

  She paled.

  Nick wasn’t buying it. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. You know, with everything…”

  “But we know who it was. It’s over.”

  “They don’t have him in custody yet.”

  “What’s he going to do? Drive over from Lancaster to come get me? And why would he? Willard hasn’t called him yet. And even if he did, David wouldn’t know the prints were from my shovel.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Oh, come on. I’ve got Queenie here. She saved me the last time he came. And I can keep my rifle handy.”

  Miranda’s expression was almost desperate as she waited for Nick’s decision.

  He studied my face. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Now git.”

  Miranda jumped up from her chair and held her hand out to Nick.

  He still hesitated, so I pulled my hand from his and pushed him away. “Will you go already? Before I get mad?”

  “I’ll have my phone.”

  “Of course you will. Now go away.”

  They finally went.

  I stayed where I was, except for getting up to pop an ibuprofen, until it was time to go out to the barn. Once I got there, I took one look at the parlor and went to my office, where I called the police station. I couldn’t wait any longer. The other officer was gone, so Meadows answered the phone, sounding harassed.

  “It’s Stella. Any luck?”

  “None of them match.”

  “You mean neither of them. Alan or Trevor.”

  “No, I mean none. David went to the Lancaster police a couple of hours ago, where they got his prints and sent them. They don’t match.”

  Oh, shit. “So there’s somebody else.”

  “Apparently so.”

  I clenched the phone, my heart racing. “Who?”

  “How am I supposed to know? Who else touched that shovel?”

  I tried to think. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed on my temple, going over the past day. The shovel hadn’t been anywhere other than the Hershbergers’ and the back of my truck until I’d brought it into the barn in the evening. Maybe I’d missed some prints when I’d wiped it down. It’s not like I was trying to wipe off evidence—just the extra cow crap that had stuck on it. So the unidentified fingerprint could be anybody’s—Lucy’s or Zach’s or Nick’s or even Tess’.

  “Those are the only ones I can tell you for sure. I don’t know who else it could be other than the folks who work here. And I thought I’d wiped it clean.”

  I could hear his sigh over the line. “Then we’re out of luck.”

  “I’m sorry, Meadows.”

 
“Yeah. Well, if you think of anybody, call me, okay?” And before I knew what was happening, he was rattling off his cell phone number. I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled it down, marveling at the way life works. My archenemy, and here I was, able to call him at any time, day or night. I promised to keep in touch, and hung up.

  I looked around the office. It was quiet. Too quiet. I was alone, except for Queenie, and Dr. Peterson’s killer was still on the loose, knowing who knew what about my shovel and how I’d gotten involved. A rush of adrenaline swept through me, and I picked up the phone to call Nick. The phone system sent me directly to voice mail, and I tried not to sound panicky as I left a message, telling him Meadows’ news and that I wouldn’t mind if he and Miranda would order their meals to go and get their butts back home. Once Nick ended his present call his phone would ring, telling him he had a voice mail. I hoped the call was a short one.

  I looked at Meadows’ number in my hand. Should I call him? Nope. Couldn’t stomach it. Even if he had become less repulsive in the last few days, I still wasn’t ready to ask him to come hang out in my barn.

  How about Willard? Now him I wouldn’t mind calling. I tried the police department, but got the answering machine, informing me it was after business hours and I should call 911 if there was an emergency. I wasn’t having an emergency. Yet. I looked up Willard’s home phone number and called there. Brady answered.

  “He’s out.”

  “Out?”

  “Yeah. He came home, grabbed Mom, and they drove off to some birthday party. Adults only. Not that I wanted to go. I mean, Mallory’s here, and—”

  “While your parents are gone?”

  “Well, they know she’s here, it’s not like—”

  “I’m joking, Brady. Chill. Your dad have his cell phone with him?”

  “I’m sure he does. Want me to call him?”

  I looked around the office again. Me and Queenie. And my rifle. “Nah. I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

  I hung up, telling him to be good, and looked at the clock. Nick would get my message soon and come home. Right?

  I took the paper with Meadows’ number into the parlor and pinned it to the bulletin board, where it wouldn’t get lost. It would also serve as a bit of humor if I ever needed it. Just the thought of it…

  Also accompanying me to the parlor was my rifle. I’d told Nick I’d keep it near me, and now that David was off the hook and the other guy—whoever he was—was still out there, it felt good to have it close by.