Page 85 of Fallen

A not-so-guilty grin. “The rein broke and I couldn’t stop him.”

“Sitz dich anne un havva faasnachtkuche.” Sit yourself down and have a doughnut.

The girl pulls out a chair next to me and sits. Despite her injury, she goes directly for the doughnut and bites into it with relish.

At the counter, Loretta pours milk into her coffee. “You’ll be lucky if your datt doesn’t sell that horse.”

“He’s a good horse,” Fannie defends.

Knowing I don’t have much time, I smile at Fannie and touch the side of my mouth with my finger, indicating to her she’s got a speck of doughnut on her lip.

“Oh.” She scrubs the napkin across her mouth and raises her brows.

“Let me.” I take her napkin, blot in a place where I’ll likely get spit. “There you go.”

The girl grins, takes the napkin, and for an instant I can’t look away.

Rachael Schwartz had strawberry-blond hair, eyes the color of a tropical sea, and a face so pretty it hurt to look at her because the world somehow never seemed to measure up. Fannie is brown haired and brown eyed. She’s plain, her face unremarkable. Except for that dazzle of light in her eyes …

“Katie?”

Loretta hands me a cup of coffee. She’s looking at me oddly. Fannie, too, and I realize one of them said something I didn’t hear.

“Dank.”

“Are you feeling all right?” Loretta asks.

“Just a little sleep deprived,” I tell her.

“Well, now that this horrible mess is over, maybe you can get some rest,” the Amish woman tells me.

I glance toward the doorway to the mudroom, where the coat tree holding the kapps stares back at me. Most Amish women have at least two. One for every day and one for worship. From where I’m sitting, I can see that one of the kapps has a tiny bow at the back. A shadowy spot of teal paint on top. Fannie’s kapp. The one she wears every day that’s waiting to be washed—and likely laden with DNA. If I can’t get Fannie’s napkin into a baggie without being seen, I might be able to pocket the kapp.

“All right, my girl.” Loretta brings her hands together. “Why don’t you run next door and see if Mrs. Yoder wants some of this nice broth, so Katie and I can talk.”

“Can I have another doughnut?” The girl rises, scoots her chair back to the table.

I look at the napkin on her plate. The one I used to blot her mouth. I’m aware of the baggie in my jacket pocket.

“She eats like her datt.” Loretta shakes her head. “Go on now. Tell Mrs. Yoder I got plenty.”

I rise to gather the paper plates.

At the doorway, Fannie looks at me and smiles. “Bye, Katie.”

I grin, look at her over my shoulder. “Stay out of trouble.”

Aware that Loretta is at the stove, replacing the lid on the Dutch oven, I snatch up the girl’s napkin. Keeping my back to Loretta, I flick out the baggie, tuck the napkin into it.

“Oh, I can take care of the throwaways, Katie. You just sit and enjoy your kaffi.”

“No problem,” I say easily. “I’ve got it.”

I’m sealing the baggie when I hear the creak of a floorboard. I look up to see Ben Bontrager standing in the doorway of the mudroom, looking at me.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?”

I hear Loretta’s voice behind me. The tap of her spoon against the Dutch oven where the bone brother simmers. I can’t stop looking at Ben. I don’t know how long he’s been there. If he saw what I did. If he understands what he saw.