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Fall From Pride
Karen Harper
Against the peaceful night sky, a barn burns…Sarah Kauffman sought permission from her church elders to paint murals on a few of the Amish community's barns. Each was designed like an old-fashioned quilt square, representing a piece of the Amish traditions Sarah loved. The works of art were intended to draw more tourists to the Home Valley in the struggling economy. But instead, they invited a menace.One by one, each barn is set ablaze and destroyed… The arson fires spread fear through the community—amongst Amish and Englischers alike. Now Sarah wonders if she's being punished for her pridefulness…or whether there's a more malevolent will at work. As an outsider, arson investigator Nate MacKenzie struggles to investigate the crime scenes while adhering to Amish ways.With Sarah as his guide, he warms to the Plain People and their simple ways. As the fires rage, beliefs are challenged, a way of life is questioned and family secrets are exposed. In the aftermath of the destruction the people of the Home Valley must join together to raise their barns and their hopes for the future.
Praise for the novels of
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author
KAREN HARPER
“A strong plot, a pair of well-written characters and a genuinely
spooky atmosphere add up to yet another sterling effort from
Harper. Fast-paced and absorbing, this one will keep readers
turning pages far into the night.”
—RT Book Reviews on Deep Down
“The story is rich…and the tension steadily escalates
to a pulse-pounding climax.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Hiding Place
“Strongly plotted and well written, featuring a host of
interesting characters, Harper’s latest is a winner.”
—RT Book Reviews on Below the Surface
“Harper keeps tension high as the insane villain cleverly evades
efforts to capture him. And Harper really shines in the final act,
providing readers with a satisfying and exciting denouement.”
—Publishers Weekly on Inferno
“Harper spins an engaging, nerve-racking yarn, alternating
her emphasis between several equally interesting plot strands.
More important, her red herrings do the job—there’s just no
guessing who the guilty party might be.”
—RT Book Reviews on Hurricane
“Well-researched and rich in detail…
With its tantalizing buildup and well-developed characters,
this offering is certain to earn Harper high marks.”
—Publishers Weekly on Dark Angel, winner of the 2005 Mary Higgins Clark Award
Fall from Pride
Karen Harper
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
For my family and friends who love those relaxing,
lovely trips to Ohio Amish country.
As ever, for Don.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Author’s Note
1
Saturday, May 22, 2010
The Home Valley, Ohio
“SARAH, YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO JUST DROVE in. Passing by, that’s what he said. It’s Jacob! In a fancy car, too. He’s right outside the barn.”
At her younger brother’s words, Sarah Kauffman’s insides lurched. She had once cared for Jacob, but since he’d been shunned, it was verboten for him to be here. No way she wanted to see her former come-calling friend, but someone had to get him away from Gabe and his buddy group. Her family had invited the young people for a barn dance tonight.
“If the kids won’t tell him to leave, I will,” Sarah said as she circled the long plank table laden with food. “He’s a bad influence, and you youngie liet don’t need that in your running-around days!”
She hurried outside and down the sloped approach to the barn, her eyes scanning the clusters of boys huddled by their courting buggies or the two cars someone had driven in, and beyond all that, with its headlights still glowing golden, Jacob’s red car stood out like a beacon.
No, she thought, the glow was not where headlights should be, but higher, farther off, behind the car and buggies so that they stood out in stark silhouette.
She moved to the side and squinted across the dark distance. The glow was growing, wavering. It was coming not from something on her family’s property but from across the newly planted fields that stretched to those of Bishop Esh.
Ignoring Jacob’s calling her name, she pointed, stiff-armed, at the distant blaze of color, but Jacob must have thought she was gesturing for him to leave.
“Hey, just came to say hi to all my ol’ friends, ’speci’ly you, an’ I’m not leavin’ till we talk,” he slurred, but she hardly heeded him.
What was that strange light? The moon rising low on the horizon? Someone burning trash? No. No! The Esh barn, where she had begun enlarging the quilt square she’d painted there two months before…the Esh barn was on fire!
“Fire!” she screamed. “Fire, over there—the Esh barn! Does anyone have a phone? Call the fire department!”
Sarah lifted her skirts and ran through the scattered boys, past a smooching couple who jumped to their feet. She almost tripped over some beer cans on the grass. Smooching and drinking—now she knew why their guests hadn’t spotted the fire.
She raced past their grossdaadi haus where her younger sister, Martha, was tending to their eighty-year-old grossmamm tonight, past the family garden and into the field.
Laboring through the rich, damp soil, she sank ankle-deep with each lunging step, once falling to her hands and knees, but this was the fastest way to get there, even compared to a buggy or Jacob’s car. Schnell! Schnell, hurry, hurry, she urged herself. Human lives, the horses, the stored hay and straw, the old barn itself…and her bold painting of an Amish quilt square. She jumped up from her knees and clambered on, hearing voices behind her of others coming, too.
Out of breath, a stitch in her side, she ran on, to warn the Eshes—Bishop Joseph and his wife, Mattie, almost her second parents because she and their girl Hannah had been so close…. Were they home tonight? Already gone to bed? Their house looked dark, but the glow of kerosene lanterns didn’t show sometimes. Didn’t they know their livelihood, their future, was on fire? The flames seemed high in the barn, reaching downward as well as up. Maybe the firemen could use her painting ladders to spray water.
It seemed an eternity until she reached their yard, screaming, “Fire! Fire!” She prayed no one would be trapped in the barn, that they could get the work team and buggy horses out if they were in for the night. She knew that barn as well as her own. It was where she, Hannah and Ella had played as children, tended animals, the barn where the bishop had been brave enough after much discussion to let her paint her very first quilt square and then let her enlarge it when he saw how well the others were received.
Exhausted but energized, Sarah stumbled into the Esh backyard, her dress and hands smeared, clods of soil clinging to her shoes. The belching heat slapped her face. What had been a glow in the hayloft was now a red-and-orange monster inside the barn trying to get out, licking at the windows, curling its claws around the eaves. Shouting, she beat her fists on the back door of the dark house, but no one came.
Turning back toward the barn, she saw that Jacob, Gabe and several other boys had followed her across the fields. Using someone’s jacket to avoid burning their hands, they lifted the bar on the barn door and pulled it open. That only fed the flames, which made a big whooshing sound and drove everyone back. The beast’s breath came hotter, orange fires from hell. She could see its fiery fingers reaching for the pattern of the six-foot-square Robbing Peter to Pay Paul quilt square she’d been enlarging from her wooden ladders and scaffolding earlier today. She’d left them leaning against the barn. Maybe they’d been burned up by now.
Her agony was not only to see the barn burn but her quilt square, too. How proud she had been of her work, the beauty of the striking design. Bishop Esh had chosen that repetitive, traditional pattern because he said it would remind folks that Paul and Peter were equal apostles—a Bible lesson, even on a barn.
Sarah watched in awestruck horror as the flaming beast devoured her neat white and gold circles within the bright blue squares. The paint crackled and blistered. Was it her imagination that the colors ran like blood? Was this a sign that she should not have asked to place it on the bishop’s barn—shouldn’t have been so worldly in her pride over it? She’d even felt a bit important when the local newspaper had put this painting and her picture—not of her face, of course—on the front page. But for so long she’d felt different from her Amish sisters and friends…. She stopped herself, knowing her line of thinking was a danger and a sin.
“Their plow team’s in the south field!” someone yelled. At least that was a blessing. The six big, blond Percherons that pulled the farm equipment were safe.
“The Eshes must not be home!” Sarah shouted, ignoring Jacob, speaking to her brother and the other boys.
“I called the fire department on my cell,” Jacob yelled, coming closer. “They’ll be here ASAP.”
She wasn’t sure what “a sap” meant, but she asked him, “So there are no buggy horses inside, either?”
“Naw or we’d hear them, even over the roar, that’s sure!” he shouted as he came closer. She hadn’t seen him for months and she couldn’t see him well now, only his bulky, black silhouette etched by leaping lights. The fire made a deafening roar. Inside, something heavy fell and little golden lines ran madly between the old, weathered boards. Barn swallows from under the eaves circled madly around the increasing clouds of ash-and-cinder-laden smoke.
It seemed an eternity before the fire engine pumper truck screeched in from the closest town of Homestead with six volunteer firemen, three of them Amish. When Sheriff Freeman’s car pulled in with the siren sounding, several other firefighters spilled out to help. They pumped what water they had in the truck through two hoses, then, when that was quickly gone, rigged a hose to draw water from the pond. It was too late to save the barn, so they watered down the roof of the house and outbuildings to keep flying debris from burning them, too.
As word spread or they saw the seething sky, other Home Valley Amish arrived in buggies, some Englische neighbors in their cars. Even before the Eshes raced up the lane in their buggy, back from visiting Mattie Esh’s sister on the other side of the valley, even before the local newspaper editor, Peter Clawson, started taking pictures, the big, old barn with Sarah’s bright painting on it had burned into oblivion.
Nathan MacKenzie took the call on his cell phone. His digital clock read 3:24 a.m. Something terrible must have happened, and he hoped it wasn’t bad news about his foster mother. His heartbeat kicked up. It was his boss, Mark Lincoln, the state fire marshal of Ohio.
“Nate, I need you to check out a big fire in Amish country, pronto. I want you there shortly after dawn.”
“Amish country?” he said, raking his fingers through his short hair. “Northeast but south of Cleveland, right? That’s Stan Comstock’s district.”
“Our northeast supervisor’s in Hawaii for his daughter’s wedding and won’t be back for about ten days. It’s a barn fire, Nate. Went to the ground—no one inside but for them a huge loss. Two volunteer firefighters were slightly injured when a beam fell. They should have been outside at that point, and I’m not sure how much correct protocol was followed. I just got calls from both the county sheriff and the local newspaper editor. I’ll input what I know to you online including GPS specs for getting there. It’s in a rural area called the Home Valley outside Homestead, Ohio, in Eden County. Real pretty rolling-hill country.”
“And it was arson?”
“We won’t know until you take VERA up there and get a good look. But the thing is, the newspaper guy says the Amish in Pennsylvania had a rash of hate-crime barn arsons a couple of years ago, and we can’t take a chance with this. You’ll have to handle things with kid gloves, not go in like gangbusters, even with VERA, you hear?”
“Of course,” Nate said, fumbling in the dark for his jeans. VERA was one of the two expensive, state-of-the-art technology-laden vehicles that served the state Fire and Explosion Investigation Bureau, usually called the Arson Bureau. And VERA was Nate’s idea of the perfect date to investigate arson on the road.
