Page 17 of Rage

After a too-long moment, Leona places her hand on her husband’s forearm. “What about that big contract that got all messed up?”

The Amish man’s brows pull together. “I don’t know too much about it. I thought he got that all smoothed out.”

“What contract?” I cut in.

“Samuel got a nice-size job with some big-bug up to Millersburg a while back,” Orlah says. “Big-bug” is an Amish term for “rich person.” “He signed on to landscape his house.”

“Sammy was excited,” Leona puts in. “That boy liked to work. Liked to get his hands dirty. It was a huge job. Good money. Said he was going to ask Aaron to help.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“I’m not real clear on the details,” Orlah says, “but the job required some grading. Samuel borrowed one of them Bobcat skid-steers from a guy down in Coshocton.” He sighs. “I don’t know all the ins and outs, but the job got messed up.”

“Were there hard feelings between Samuel and the client?” I ask.

“The guy wasn’t happy with the work,” Orlah says. “And he was causing problems for Samuel.”

“Threatened to sue if I recall,” Leona huffs. “You know how people are these days.”

“What’s the customer’s name?” I ask.

“Don’t think he ever said,” Orlah replies.

“You can count on this, though, Chief Burkholder,” Leona says. “Sammy did good work. And he was honest. The man didn’t have a leg to stand on.”

I don’t recall seeing a computer or file cabinet at the nursery, but I hadn’t been specifically looking, so I make a mental note to look again. “Do you have any idea where Samuel kept his business files or paperwork?”

“Reckon it’s at his house,” Orlah tells me.

“Do you happen to have a key I could use?” I ask. “To take a look?”

The two exchange a look and shake their heads. “Never gave us one,” Orlah says.

“He kept that old file cabinet in the extra bedroom,” Leona adds. “Had plans to add an office at the nursery, but he hadn’t gotten around to it.”

I fish my business card out of my pocket, jot my cell phone number on the back, and hand it to Orlah. “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”

The Amish man takes the card and nods.

“Chief Burkholder.” Raising her head, Leona wipes tears from her cheeks. “Can you tell us when we’ll get him back? I mean, from the funeral home?”

The question takes me aback. Generally, when there’s a death, most Amish have the body embalmed. There’s a viewing. The funeral is usually held on the third day following the death. None of that’s going to happen for this family. I should have been prepared for the question, but I’m not. What can you say when someone’s child was murdered, his body cut into pieces?

“Samuel’s body will be taken to Pomerene Hospital,” I tell her. “The coroner will be conducting an autopsy. I’m not sure about the timing of everything, but I’ll find out and let you know.”

I leave them sitting in the living room, their heads bowed, their lives shattered.

CHAPTER 5

Back in the Explorer, I start the engine, twist the AC on full blast, and let the cool air wash over my face. I feel like hell, a toxic mix of anger, frustration, and helplessness. Of all the things a cop has to do, notifying a family that a loved one will never be coming home is the most difficult.

Rapping my palm against the steering wheel, I put the Explorer in gear and start down the lane. As I make the turn onto the township road, I hail Dispatch. Only when my second-shift dispatcher, Jodie Metcalf, answers do I realize the day has somehow blown past.

“I need you to run Aaron Shetler through LEADS,” I tell her. “Check for warrants. See if he’s got a record. Get me the names of known associates. I need his most recent address. See if you can dig up a photo of him, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m on my way to Samuel Yutzy’s residence.” A look at the clock on my dash tells me it’s now after five P.M. “Warrant come through?”