Page 60 of A Gathering of Secrets

Her gaze skitters away from mine. “She found the … blood from that night. You know … on my underwear.” She takes a shuddery breath. “I told her nothing happened. That it was just my monthly. But I think she knew. She … was in an awful big hurry to get me married.” She looks down at the floor.

I’m so drawn in to her story, the horrific nature of the assault, all of it without the support of her family or the Amish community, it takes me a moment to find the words for my next question. “Does your datt know what happened?”

“I don’t think my mamm told him.”

“Did you see Daniel or speak to him after that night?”

“No.”

“Did you write to him? Or leave him a note or letter?”

“No.” Her brows knit in confusion. “Why would I?”

“Did you ask him to meet you in the barn the night of the fire?”

“What?” She shakes her head. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“You tell me.”

“Chief Burkholder, I haven’t seen him since … that night. I couldn’t face him. I can barely face myself. Some days I can’t even look at my innocent little child.” Pain contorts her features and she begins to cry. “I don’t mean that.”

I let her cry, let the silence and the weight of the words that have passed between us ride.

“I’ve prayed for forgiveness,” she tells me. “I’ve forgiven myself. I’ve forgiven them. I’ve moved on with my…”

I’ve forgiven them.…

The statement stops me cold, echoes in my ears like the report of a gunshot. “What did you say?”

She shoots me a blank look. “I said I’ve moved on—”

“You said ‘them,’” I cut in. “Who are you talking about? Was there someone else there?”

Shame clouds her face. Something else she didn’t want me to know. She looks away, anywhere but at me. “Daniel’s friend was there. Milo Hershberger.”

The ground shifts beneath my feet. “Milo was there the night Daniel assaulted you?”

“He needed a ride home after the singing. Daniel said he’d drive him. But instead of going to Milo’s house, we started drinking. Ended up parking on that back road.”

“Did Milo—”

“No.” She shakes her head adamantly. “No. He got out of the car. I mean, he wasn’t there … With all the alcohol, the night was so … confusing.” Her visage turns sullen. “I do recall Milo being angry afterward. I mean, with Daniel. They had words.”

“Daniel and Milo argued?” I ask.

“Milo was upset about what Daniel had done. He didn’t like it at all.”

“Did the argument become physical?”

Another shake of her head. “I don’t know. I was so … ashamed and upset. My whole world just sort of fell apart that night.”

The cry of a baby sounds from the bedroom at the rear of the house. Ruth looks over her shoulder, her eyes not meeting mine. Shame, I think, and I wish there were something I could say or do. But there isn’t.

“Please, can you just go now? I’ve told you everything. I just want to forget it ever happened.”

* * *

There are some topics that are so taboo among the Amish that they won’t even acknowledge that they exist. Sexual violence is one of them. Daniel Gingerich was a monster in disguise. The more I learn about him, the more I detest him. It’s not a good mind-set for a cop who’s been charged with solving his murder.