Page 10 of A Gathering of Secrets

When no one answers, she begins to cry. The little girls look up at her and, seeing their older sibling’s face, begin to cry as well.

“Hush now.” Miriam opens her arms to the two little ones, who rush to her and bury their faces against her bosom. “You just shush now. You hear? All of this is in the hands of the Lord and we trust Him to show us the light.”

I turn my attention to Gideon. “Can I speak with you outside for a moment?”

He nods and follows me onto the back porch. I give him a moment to collect himself and we look out across the driveway where two men in protective suits are already inside the blackened remains of the barn. Doc Coblentz has arrived on scene. His Escalade is parked just outside the caution tape.

“Mr. Gingerich,” I begin, “according to the arson investigator, there may have been an accelerant used to start the fire. He thinks it was gasoline.”

The Amish man looks at me, misery boiling in his expression. “Are you saying someone did this thing? They burned our barn on purpose?” He looks down at the ground, raises his hand to his face, and scrubs it over his eyes as if all of this is too much for him to take in. “Mein Gott.” My God. “Danny…”

I ask gently, “Do you keep gas in the barn? Do you store it anywhere on your property?”

He shakes his head. “The Ordnung forbids the use of gasoline. We use only diesel for the generator.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have done this? Either intentionally or accidentally?”

He shakes his head adamantly. “No.”

“Have you had any disagreements with anyone? Any problems with neighbors or acquaintances? Strangers? Family members?”

“No.”

“Has anyone been angry with you or any of your family members?”

Another shake. “We get along with our neighbors just fine.”

“What about business associates? English? Amish? Anyone?”

“No. No.”

I choose my next words carefully, knowing they will not be received well. “Mr. Gingerich, have you had any problems or disagreements with Daniel?”

“Danny?” He looks at me as if I’ve just admitted to pouring the gasoline and striking a match myself. “Never,” he says, his mouth trembling. “He’s a good boy.”

“Has Danny—”

“No!” he says abruptly, the word as much a cry as a warning. “No more questions.”

“Mr. Gingerich, please—”

“Enough!” He cuts me off and then turns away, opens the door. “If you want to help us, Chief Burkholder, I suggest you get out there and find my son.”

Casting a final look over his shoulder, he goes into the house, letting the door slam behind him.

* * *

Ten minutes later I’m standing outside the yellow caution tape surrounding the barn, watching two investigators wade through ash and debris. Most of the exterior walls are still standing, but some of the rafters have collapsed, bringing down a segment of the roof.

“Good thing the fire department got here when they did or this place would have burned clean to the ground.”

I glance over to see Ludwig Coblentz toddle toward me, a suitcase-size medical bag at his side. He’s a portly man prone to bad fashion choices and the occasional fedora, and has a well-known weakness for fast food. He’s one of six doctors in Painters Mill; he’s been coroner for nearly twelve years.

“Hi, Doc.” I cross to him and we shake hands. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

He sends a pointed look toward the barn. “I understand we have an as-of-yet-unidentified body.”

“The homeowner’s son is missing.”