Faithless

Jeffrey apologized, saying, “There was a question of jurisdiction.”

Lev said, “That’s my fault. The farm is in Catoogah County. I guess I just wasn’t thinking.”

“None of us were,” Ephraim excused.

Lev bowed his head, as if to accept the absolution.

Jeffrey said, “We stopped at the farm across the street for directions. There was a man there, about sixty-five, seventy-”

“Cole,” Lev provided. “Our foreman.”

Jeffrey paused, probably waiting for more information. When nothing came, he added, “He gave us directions.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear about how to get here,” Lev told him, then offered, “Why don’t we go inside and talk to Esther?”

“Your sister-in-law?” Jeffrey asked.

“Baby sister,” Lev clarified. “I hope you don’t mind, but my brother and other sisters are coming by, too. We’ve been up all night worried about Abby.”

Lena asked, “Has she ever run away before?”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said, focusing his attention on Lena. “I didn’t introduce myself.” He held out his hand. Lena had been expecting the dead-fish flop that most men affected, lightly gripping a woman’s fingers as if they were afraid of breaking them, but he gave her the same hearty shake he had given Jeffrey, looking her square in the eye. “Leviticus Ward.”

“Lena Adams,” she told him.

“Detective?” he guessed. “We’ve been so anxious about this. Forgive my poor ma

“It’s understandable,” Lena said, aware that he had managed to sidestep answering her question about Abby.

He stepped back, graciously telling Lena, “After you.”

Lena walked toward the house, watching their shadows follow her, wondering at their old-fashioned ma

Esther Be

“Chief Tolliver?” Esther Be

“Call me Jeffrey,” Jeffrey offered; then: “You’ve got a beautiful home, Mrs. Be

Jeffrey must have been thinking the same thing about the house, because he asked, “Have y’all lived here long?”

Lev answered, “Since before Abby was born.”

“Please,” Esther said, spreading her hands. “Have a seat.” She stood as Jeffrey sat, and he popped back up. “Please,” she repeated, motioning him back down.

Lev told him, “The rest of the family should be here soon.”

Esther offered, “Would you like something to drink, Chief Tolliver? Some lemonade?”

“That’d be nice,” Jeffrey answered, probably because he knew accepting the offer would help put the woman at ease.

“And you, Miss-?”

“Adams,” Lena provided. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Lev said, “Esther, this woman is a detective.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming flustered by her mistake. “I’m sorry, Detective Adams.”

“It’s fine,” Lena assured her, wondering why she felt like she should be the one apologizing. There was something strange about this family, and she wondered what secrets they were hiding. Her radar had been on high alert since the old nut at the farm. She didn’t imagine he fell far from the tree.

Lev said, “Lemonade would be nice, Esther,” and Lena realized how deftly he managed to control the situation. He seemed to be very good at taking charge, something that always made her wary in an investigation.

Esther had regained some of her composure. “Please make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.”

She left the room silently, only pausing to rest her hand briefly on her husband’s shoulder.

The men stood around as if they were waiting for something. Lena caught Jeffrey’s expression and she said, “Why don’t I go help her?”

The men seemed relieved, and as she walked down the hallway after Esther, Lena could hear Lev chuckling at something she didn’t quite catch. Something told her it had to do with a woman’s place being in the kitchen. She got the distinct impression that this family did things the old-fashioned way, with the men taking charge and the women being seen and not heard.

Lena took her time walking to the back of the house, hoping to see something that might explain what was so weird about the inhabitants. There were three doors on the right, all closed, that she assumed were bedrooms. On the left was what looked like a family room and a large library filled floor to ceiling with books, which was kind of surprising. For some reason, she had always assumed religious fanatics didn’t tend to read.

If Esther was as old as she looked, then her brother Lev had to be closer to fifty. He was a smooth talker and had the voice of a Baptist preacher. Lena had never been particularly attracted to pasty men, but there was something almost magnetic about Lev. In appearance, he reminded her a bit of Sara Linton. They both exuded the same confidence, too, but on Sara this came across as off-putting. On Lev, it was calming. If he were a used-car salesman, he’d probably be at the top of his trade.

“Oh,” Esther said, startled by Lena ’s sudden appearance in the kitchen. The woman was holding a photograph in her hand, and she seemed hesitant about showing it to Lena. Finally, she made up her mind and offered the picture. It showed a child of about twelve with long brown pigtails.

“Abby?” Lena asked, knowing without a doubt that this was the girl Jeffrey and Sara had found in the woods.

Esther studied Lena, as if trying to read her thoughts. She seemed to decide she didn’t want to know, because she returned to her work in the kitchen, turning her back to Lena.

“Abby loves lemonade,” she said. “She likes it sweet, but I must say that I don’t care for it sweet.”

“Me, either,” Lena said, not because it was true but because she wanted to seem agreeable. Since stepping into this house, she had felt unsettled. Being a cop, she had learned to trust her first impressions.

Esther cut a lemon in two and twisted it by hand into a metal strainer. She had gone through about six lemons and the bowl underneath the strainer was getting full.

“Can I help?” Lena asked, thinking the only drinks she’d ever made came from a package and usually went into a blender.

“I’ve got it,” Esther said, then, as if she had somehow insulted Lena, added in an apologetic tone, “The pitcher’s over the stove.”

Lena walked to the cabinet and took out a large crystal glass pitcher. It was heavy and probably an antique. She used both hands to transfer it to the counter.

Trying to find something to say, Lena said, “I like the light in here.” There was a large fluorescent strip overhead, but it wasn’t turned on. Three large windows lined the area over the sink and two long skylights over the kitchen table lit the room. Like the rest of the house, it was plain, and she wondered about people choosing to live in such austerity.