Page 30 of A Gathering of Secrets

“Toxicology?” I ask.

“I sent six vials to the lab this morning,” Doc Coblentz replies. “Going to be a week or so before results are in. Once they are, I’ll make my official ruling.”

When the final questions are asked, Tomasetti, Rasmussen, and I file from the room. We’re in the alcove, peeling away our protective layers of clothing and stuffing them into the biohazard receptacle. Tomasetti is watching me with a little too much interest, making me nervous because Rasmussen is just a few feet away.

“I guess the question now is who did Daniel Gingerich piss off?” Tomasetti says as he sheds his shoe covers.

“Who the hell does something like that to an Amish kid?” Rasmussen mutters.

Tomasetti is still staring at me. “Any thoughts on that, Chief?”

I tell them about the falling-out between Daniel and his former best friend, Milo Hershberger.

“You think Hershberger did it?” Tomasetti asks.

“I’m still digging,” I respond vaguely.

“You talk to the girlfriend?” Rasmussen asks.

I nod. “I’m basically talking to everyone who knew or came in contact with Daniel. From all indications everyone thought pretty highly of him.”

“Except the sick fucker who locked him in the tack room and set the barn on fire,” Rasmussen mutters.

CHAPTER 8

Daniel Gingerich not only worked on the farm full-time with his father, but also held down a job at the local farm store. Quality Implement and Farm Supply is located just across the railroad tracks on the industrial side of Painters Mill. I still smell the formalin clinging to my clothes as I park next to a handicap spot and head inside.

I enter through the double glass doors and am immediately greeted by a petite woman with brown hair and a red Quality Implement smock. She’s standing at the customer service desk, jotting something on a form. I’ve been in this store plenty of times over the years, for everything from work boots to tires to potting soil, and I recognize her immediately.

“Morning, Dora,” I say.

“You here about Danny?” she asks.

I nod, glance up toward the manager’s office up on the second-level mezzanine. “Is Al around?”

“He’s there.” She lowers her voice. “His phone’s been ringing off the hook since … it happened. A lot of our employees and customers are donating money for the Gingerich family. I mean, no one organized it or anything. Money just started pouring in.”

“You knew him?” I ask.

“He was sort of a fixture around here. I saw him a few times a week. Nice kid.” She shakes her head. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. He was such a sweetheart. Helpful. Funny. Good with the customers. One of the cashiers had to be sent home yesterday because she couldn’t stop crying. We’ve even had some of our customers break down.”

“Thanks, Dora.” I set my hand on her shoulder, give it a squeeze, and then head up to the office.

Al Shields has been the manager here since I was a kid. When I was fifteen, he caught me swiping a candy bar. Instead of calling the cops or, God forbid, my parents, he walked me to the cash register, pulled a dollar out of his wallet, and paid for it. Somehow, that was worse. I never stole anything again.

I’m midway to the steps that will take me to the office when I see Al jogging down them. “Hey, Chief.”

I smile and for a split second I know both of us are remembering that long-ago day that helped put me on the right track.

“Hell of a note about Danny Gingerich.” He reaches for my hand and gives it a vigorous shake. “We’re all kind of shell-shocked around here.” He narrows his eyes on mine. “I heard it was arson. Is that true?”

I nod. “Do you have a few minutes? I need to ask you some questions.”

“Sure.” He motions toward the office from which he’d just emerged. “Come on up.”

I follow him up the stairs and take the plastic chair across from his desk. “Had Danny been acting normally in the days and weeks before the fire?”

“I never noticed anything different. He was … the same. A solid worker. Always willing to lend a hand. Cheerful. Seemed to like his job here. I mean, he’d come in on the weekend if we needed him. Even on Sunday, after worship.”