Among the Wicked: A Kate Burkholder Novel by Linda Castillo Page A

especially when it’s bad.” She shakes her head. “It was an awful thing, made worse because she was so young. Mary and Abe were just beside themselves. Fannie and Samuel”—she shakes her head—“were inconsolable. Bishop Schrock spent that first terrible night with them.”
    “I can’t imagine losing a child.”
    “At first everyone thought Rachel had run away. But there were all sorts of rumors flying around.”
    “Rumors?” I muster a puzzled look. “But it was an accident, right? She got lost in the woods and succumbed to the cold?”
    “That’s what everyone says.” There are no customers in the shop, but she looks left and right just to make sure. “I think there was more to it.”
    I lower my voice. “What do you mean?”
    “Not to speak ill of the dead, but Rachel Esh was a wild little thing. Pretty as a peach, but she didn’t care much for the rules, and spent a good bit of time breaking them. Wearing Englischer clothes and whatnot. She didn’t get along with her parents, so she moved in with Mary and Abe. Didn’t work out so well there, either, from what I’ve heard.”
    “ Rumspringa can be a confusing time for young people,” I say, staying neutral, trying to keep her talking. “A lot of temptation these days.”
    “The sheriff’s department has been sniffing around and asking all sorts of questions. Word around town is, Rachel wasn’t out there by herself.”
    I stare at her, trying not to look too interested, not sure I’m succeeding. “Who?”
    “No one knows. I heard she had a boyfriend. She went to see him. Got lost on her way home and died.”
    “How sad.” I press my hand to my chest. “The boy is English?”
    Another look around. “Word is, he was older. And married.” She whispers the last word as if the walls themselves have ears. “No one knows for sure.”
    “The police must be anxious to speak with him.”
    “I wouldn’t know.” She shrugs. “Most of us don’t deal with the Englischers much. Bishop Schrock is strong on separation from the unbelieving world.”
    I want to keep the conversation focused on the death of Rachel Esh, but I’m not sure how to do so without garnering suspicion, and the moment slips away.
    The Amish woman doesn’t notice, and motions toward the window facing Main Street. “Before Eli Schrock became bishop, there were six or seven Amish shops. We have such an entrepreneurial spirit, you know. But the government came after us with all their taxes and regulations.” She huffs a laugh. “Can’t even put in a new front door without some kind of permit. The bishop defended us; he knows how to deal with them. But he lost. A week later, he held a meeting and told all the shopkeepers here in town that when their leases were up, they shouldn’t renew.”
    “Such a shame,” I say.
    “A lot of Amish sell things from their homes or farmhouses now. Most of them make a pretty penny doing it. I have a three-year lease here. Time’s up in ten months.” She heaves a wistful sigh. “I love this place, but right is right, and of course the bishop has the final say. When the time comes I’ll say good-bye to it and not look back.” She laughs. “Listen to me, gossiping like some old woman.”
    “It’s good to know these things,” I tell her.
    We fall silent, so I move to keep the conversation flowing. “Mary and her husband were nice enough to offer me a ride to worship.”
    “Well, that’s kind. Daniel and I will be there, too.”
    “I hear Bishop Schrock is a good preacher.”
    “Barely has to read because he keeps all of it in his head.”
    “I’m planning to join the church,” I tell her.
    “He’s taken in many, including a few who were lost.” Offering a small smile, she reaches out and pats my shoulder. “He believes a strong Ordnung bestows a free heart and a clear conscience. But if you came here because of Bishop Schrock, you already know that now, don’t you?”
    I offer my best smile. “I’m looking forward to