Free Kingdom Come by Jane Jensen

last. It was perhaps no surprise that no one at the Millers’, either of the Fisher households, or the Kings’ recognized Jessica Travis, either by name or by her senior photo. I watched them carefully as they looked at the picture, and if they were acting they were thespian champs. Deacon Aaron Lapp and his wife, Miriam, were out doing some “visitin’” according to their daughter Sarah, age twelve. She was babysitting the two younger children, Job, age ten, and Rebecca, age eight. They were all convincingly uninterested in either the photo or the name.
    I pulled up at Ezra’s farm about four P.M. At this time of year, there was only an hour of daylight left. I looked toward the woods and quickly made up my mind.
    I found Ezra in the workshop in the barn. He was building a rocking chair made out of some synthetic material I didn’t recognize. He had on those black pants that rode his hips so effortlessly, black suspenders, and a plain blue shirt rolled up at thecuffs. He looked at me as I came in, then finished what he was doing, screwing the arm of the chair into place manually. He was as attractive as I remembered, unfortunately. I watched the healthy veins in his strong forearms and hands as he worked the screwdriver. I had to look away before I forgot my reason for being there.
    After a few minutes, he put down his tools.
    â€œAfternoon, Detective Elizabeth Harris,” he said in his broad German accent.
    â€œYou remembered.”
    He considered me and rubbed his chin. “It may surprise ya, but not that many police come by here.” There was a trace of amusement in his eyes.
    â€œHard to believe. I’d think they’d be all over those chairs.” I motioned to several that were already done and waiting along the wall.
    He took me seriously, or seemed to. He ran a hand over the chair he was working on. “Oh, ja. This is Trex. You know it?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œIt’s a composite. You can leave it sittin’ in the rain or snow. It’ll never break down, this stuff.”
    It was also ugly as sin, the furniture equivalent of Crocs. I didn’t say it.
    â€œI prefer workin’ with pine, but I make these for a local shop. Tourists like ’em. It’s easy and it pays good.” He headed for the doorway. “Come on.”
    I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, but it ended up being just outside the door of the barn. I half expected him to light up a cigarette, since that’s what cops normally do when they “stepoutside.” He didn’t. He just took a deep breath, eyes closed and face turned up to the sky, as if appreciating the opportunity to get fresh air. The sun had broken through the murk and it was about 42 degrees out. That was downright balmy for this time of year, but even in my wool coat I was still cold. The drip and squish of melting snow was everywhere, but the temperature was dropping now that it was nearly dark. The runoff would turn to ice overnight.
    â€œSo what can I do for ya . . . Detective Harris?” He looked out over the yard, not at me, but the corner of his mouth turned up a bit. It did that funny thing to my stomach.
    I shook it off and pulled Jessica’s senior photo, encased in a plastic sleeve, from my pocket. “We have a new photo of the girl who was found at Miller’s. I’d like you to take a look.”
    He took the photo and studied it for a long moment. “Still don’t know her.” His face betrayed no emotion.
    â€œHer name’s Jessica Travis. Ever heard it before?”
    He shook his head and, with a disquieted frown, passed the photo back to me. “Such a sorrowful thing.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHope she didn’t suffer.” He looked away, back over the yard. His sympathy seemed genuine.
    â€œIt was fast,” I said. Then thought I probably could have kept that tidbit to myself, Ezra’s alibi notwithstanding.
    The sun