Free Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) by Laura Bradford

the capacity to be open-minded, that’s for sure.” Claire backed against the fence, her focus drawn to the pensive quality of Jakob’s face and stance. “I’m not sure how many people would be able to disassociate someone from their sibling’s killer the way he did. And to give the kid a job? I’m not sure I could ever be a big enough person to do something like that.”
    Jakob pinned her with a stare. “Excuse me?”
    “Harley hired the guy’s son as an apprentice for his carpentry business. ”
    “
Guy?
Jakob echoed.
    “I think Aunt Diane said his name was Patrick.” At Jakob’s blank stare, she revisited his question. “Wait. You mean the father? I can’t remember his name. You’d know it far better than I would.”
    When it was still apparent Jakob was lost, she tried again. “Carl Duppan . . . Ducken . . . I don’t know, but it was something like that.”
    “Carl Duck—?” Jakob’s face drained of all color. “Do you mean
Carl Duggan
?”
    “Duggan?” She tried the name on for size, Diane’s voice in her head confirming its match. “Yes! That’s it! That’s the man who killed Harley’s brother, right?”
    At Jakob’s nod, she continued, repeating the basic sentiment that had brought them to this spot in the first place. “Can you imagine hiring that man’s son as your apprentice sixteen years later?”
    This time, instead of reacting with a mere look and a dose of confusion, Jakob took off in a sprint toward the car, his footfalls nearly silent against the hard-packed earth. “C’mon. I’m gonna have to take a rain check on that post-fence-fixing coffee I promised you.”

Chapter 8

    S he took advantage of the midday lull in customers to nibble away at the ham and cheese sandwich she’d hastily tossed in a bag a mere four hours earlier. Yet just as her early morning outing with Jakob hadn’t lived up to her expectations, neither had her lunch.
    Part of that, she knew, was the overwhelming desire she had to close up shop early and plant herself in the middle of the Heavenly Police Department. Maybe if she did that, she’d have a better handle on why Jakob had felt it necessary to drop her off at Heavenly Treasures a good hour before they’d planned. She didn’t like being out of the loop, especially when it was obvious her tidbit about Patrick Duggan was behind the detective’s abrupt departure.
    The other part, she suspected, was the intense loneliness that had attached itself to her heart the moment she let herself into the shop. Sure, she’d known Esther wasn’t on the schedule to work—it was Sunday; the Amish girl never worked on Sunday. But somehow, knowing that Esther’s days at the shop were numbered, the weekly ritual was far less innocuous. Suddenly, instead of being able to focus her full attention on the handful of tasks still remaining on her to-do list, the lack of chitchat seemed to suck away her motivation to do anything besides mope.
    Deep down inside, she knew she should see Esther’s pending marriage as a bright spot amid an otherwise bleak canvas. After all, Esther’s elected departure meant Claire could bypass the whole pink slip debacle and the guilt that would surely follow.
    Still, the thought of losing Esther—whether in six weeks or twelve weeks—was painful. She brightened the shop in a way no overhead light or sun-drenched picture window ever could. And something about Esther always had a way of cutting through life’s little hiccups and convincing Claire to look past them with her chin held high.
    Rewrapping the sandwich she’d unwrapped just moments earlier, Claire placed it back in the brown paper sack from which it had come. There was no use trying to eat; she simply wasn’t hungry. Besides, a lull in customers meant a chance to look at the books one more time. Maybe, just maybe, she’d subtracted wrong along the way, or forgotten to record a deposit or twenty . . .
    She slipped off the cushioned stool behind the counter and made her