Among the Wicked: A Kate Burkholder Novel by Linda Castillo

stool and heft the bag onto my shoulder.
    I start for the door, but she calls out my name. “Do you have a way to get to worship tomorrow?”
    I stop and turn. “I was going to walk.”
    “Abe and I will pick you up in the buggy. We’ve plenty of room and your trailer’s right on the way.”
    I smile. “See you then.”
    *   *   *
    Situated in the first level of a historic building at the intersection of Main and Fourth Street, The Calico Country Store is the shining star of Roaring Springs’s downtown. The windows are retail artistry, an Amish-style display of locally made furniture, hand-carved toys, and an iconic nine-patch quilt in burgundy and cream.
    The cowbell mounted on the door jingles when I walk inside. The aromas of lavender and yeast bread invite me to venture deeper. The place is a far cry from the slightly chaotic atmosphere of The Dutch Kitchen down the street. This store is orderly, with a character that’s uniquely Amish. The plank floors have been sanded and polished to a high sheen. The wall to my left is affixed with dozens of metal arms from which quilts hang. I see a red and blue double wedding ring quilt, a brown and white patchwork quilt, a stunning blue and red star pattern quilt. Beyond, a wall of crib quilts in pink and yellow, lavender and blue.
    “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
    I glance right to see a pretty Amish woman standing a few feet away, admiring the quilts, same as me. She’s about fifty years old, with a freckled nose and eyes as deep and green as a country pond. She’s generously built, but carries the weight well.
    “Yes, they are,” I tell her.
    “Most of our customers are Englischers these days.” She sighs. “And there aren’t nearly enough of them, so it’s nice to see the Amish come in.”
    I offer her a questioning look, but she waves it off. “Downtown Roaring Springs isn’t exactly a bustling retail center,” she tells me.
    “It should be.” Reaching out, I run my hand over one of the quilts. “I’ve never seen a prettier collection.”
    She stands back, studying me, while I pretend to peruse. “I know all the Amish faces around here and I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    “I’m Kate Miller. I just arrived from Ohio.”
    “It’s nice to meet you, Kate. I’m Laura Hershberger.” Her eyes brighten. “What part of Ohio?”
    “Holmes County.”
    “I was born in Dundee.”
    Uneasiness quivers through me. The last thing any undercover cop wants is for someone to be familiar with their hometown. “I’ve been through Dundee many times,” I return easily.
    “Is the Amish Door Village still in business?” she asks.
    “And they still have the best meat loaf and mashed potatoes around.”
    Smiling, we share the moment. Two strangers longing for home and knowing they may never see it again.
    “How long have you lived in Roaring Springs?” I ask.
    “Going on twelve years now.” She cocks her head. “What brings you all the way up here to New York?”
    I give her the same explanation I gave Mary Gingerich. “Our church district had become too lenient.” I shake my head. “John and I wanted to get back to the old ways. When we heard about Bishop Schrock…” I shrug. “But John got sick. The Lord took him before we had a chance to move. I knew it was something I needed to do on my own.”
    “I’m sorry you lost your husband. Do you have children?”
    “No.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry.”
    I lower my gaze. When you’re Amish and childless, you’re somehow diminished. I work to shift the conversation away from me. The less people know, the less chance I have of getting caught in a lie. “I met Mary Gingerich at The Dutch Kitchen earlier.”
    “Good thing she’s back at work.” She tuts. “She and Abe were pretty broken up after that business with the Esh girl.”
    My cop’s antenna pricks up. “The girl who died?”
    She tosses me a surprised look.
    “I read about it in The Bridge ,” I explain.
    “News travels,