Page 84 of The Burning

He raises his brows.

“My counterparts,” I begin. “The mayor. They don’t want me on the case.”

“Why not?”

I tell him. “They think I’m protecting the Amish. That I’m protecting you.”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes flick to my laptop and the papers spread out on the table, then back to me. “They don’t know you very well, do they?”

I laugh despite my dark mood. “Evidently not.”

Leaving the kitchen, I pass through the living room and on to the linen closet for a towel. Back in the kitchen, I hand him the towel, and go to the coffeemaker. As I pop in a pod, I’m aware of him drying off, draping the towel over the back of a chair.

“You’re the one person I wasn’t expecting this morning,” I say as I hand him a cup.

“Dank.” He takes it and sips. “I didn’t like the way we left things.”

“Is this about Milan Swanz?”

“You know it is.”

I sip coffee. Wait. When he only continues to stare at the floor, I go to the table, pull out a chair. “Sit down.”

Sighing, he does. I take the chair across from him. “I’m going to find the person who murdered Swanz with or without your help. If you know something that will help me do that, please tell me.”

Neither of us speaks for a time. The only sound comes from the tick of the clock on the wall. The hum of my laptop. The creaks of the farmhouse settling.

Staring down at the mug in his hand, Jacob breaks the silence. “I didn’t tell you the truth about what happened with Swanz. Not all of it. Katie, there are things that should never happen in this life. Some things that are so bad, they shouldn’t even be talked about.”

“I know that.”

He turns thoughtful, his lips twisting as if his mouth is suddenly full of bile. “The day I caught Swanz in the barn with James…” Jacob tells me what happened.

As I’d suspected, Swanz was clearly intending to have sex with James. The coffee in my stomach turns sour. “I’m sorry.”

“I went to James. Checked him over. Sent him to the house.” Jaw clenched, Jacob shakes his head. “I was so angry I couldn’t see. It was as if God had blinded me because I was close to doing something that would have … changed me. Anyway, Swanz ran out of the barn. I went after him. Caught up with him over by the neighbor’s fence. I don’t remember what I said to him. It was as if the words weren’t coming from me.” He gives another head shake. “Swanz left.”

“Did it get physical?” I ask.

“I pushed him. Twice.”

I nod. “Jacob, did you have anything to do with his death?” The words drop off my tongue like poison.

“No.”

“What did you do next?”

“I harnessed up and went to see Bishop Troyer. Drove straight there. I told him everything. The bishop … he’s an old man. I’ve talked to him many times over the years. That day, I saw something in his face I’ve never seen before.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. It wasn’t … hate or anger. It was more like … resolve. As if he’d made a difficult choice that he hadn’t wanted to make.”

“Any idea what that was?”

“No.”

I choose my next words carefully. “Do you think the bishop had anything to do with the death of Milan Swanz?”