Free Breaking Silence by Linda Castillo Page B

hands.”
    “Did you help him?”
    “I made the one on the left. It’s red oak.”
    “It’s nice. I like the wood grain.” I walk to a half dozen intricately made Victorian-style birdhouses. “He make these, too?”
    The boy glances uncertainly at the men, then follows me. “ Ja. The mailboxes, too.”
    “They’re really lovely.”
    We’re standing about ten feet from the men now. It’s the farthest away I can get him without being too obvious about getting him alone. “Are you doing okay?” I ask, lifting the roof of a birdhouse and peeking inside.
    Shoving his hands into his pockets, he mumbles something that sounds like yeah.
    “You feel up to answering a few questions?”
    He fixes his gaze on me and I see him resign himself to dealing with me, dealing with whatever reason I’m here. “What is this about?” he asks.
    “Did your datt and uncle Adam get along okay?” I say the words easily, but I’m watching Mose carefully now—his eyes, his body language, his hands.
    He looks confused by the question for a moment, then shrugs. “They used to.”
    “What about recently?”
    He shakes his head. “ Datt wouldn’t let Uncle Adam come over to see us.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because he doesn’t keep the faith.”
    “Did they ever argue?”
    “Once or twice.”
    “What about?”
    Mose doesn’t want to answer; I see it in his eyes. Amish roots run deep. Though his uncle has been excommunicated, Mose still wants to protect him. But the boy was raised Amish and taught from an early age to respect and obey his elders. “Us kids.”
    “Did Adam ever get angry?”
    A lengthy pause ensues, then a reluctant “Sometimes.”
    “Did he ever threaten your mamm or datt ?”
    “No,” he snaps.
    “When’s the last time you saw him?”
    “I don’t know. A long time, I think.”
    I move on to my next question. “What about your uncle Abel? Did he get along with your datt ?”
    “Sure. They got along. They were brothers. They loved each other.”
    “Did they ever argue?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “Any recent disagreements?”
    “No.” His brows go together. “Why are you asking me these things?”
    I don’t want to unjustly accuse the dead. But I know the possibility exists that the two brothers had some kind of confrontation before Rachael and the kids got to the barn. Abel could have struck Solomon with the shovel. They could have struggled and fallen to their deaths. Or maybe Abel pushed Solomon into the pit, realized what he’d done, and then attempted a rescue, only to succumb to the methane gas and become a victim himself. It’s a long shot, but I’ve been a cop long enough to know it’s an avenue that needs exploring.
    Ignoring Mose’s question, I move to the next. “What about your mamm and datt ? Were they having any kind of disagreement?”
    He tosses me an indignant glare. “No.”
    “Did they argue?”
    “ Mamm and Datt never argued.”
    The Amish are a patriarchal society. Even so, at some point in their marriage, husbands and wives have disagreements. Generally speaking, Amish women have a strong voice when it comes to decision making, but males have the final say. “You sure about that? No disagreements at all?”
    Shaking his head, he turns away and starts toward the two men. I snag his coat sleeve and stop him. In my peripheral vision, I see the two Amish men shift restlessly and exchange glances. “Did you see anyone else in or near the barn this morning?” I ask.
    “I told you before. I din see no one.”
    The two Amish men are within earshot and stare at us with rapt attention. Turning my back to them, I pull my notebook from my coat. “Mose, I need for you to start at the beginning and tell me everything you remember, okay?”
    He takes me through the same turn of events as he did this morning. “After Samuel came in screaming, Mamm and the rest of us ran to the barn. We were scared, because we knew something bad had happened. The first thing I noticed was that