Tears threaten, but I fight them back. My own breaths billow before my face as I grapple for control. “Then why do you hate me?”

“I do not hate you.”

“You blame me. How can you hold what happened against me?”

My brother says nothing.

“Why?” I shout.

His gaze burns into mine. “I saw you smile at Daniel Lapp.”

My blood freezes in my veins. I feel myself go still as my mind tries to comprehend the meaning behind his words. “What?”

“We were in the pasture. Daniel and I were digging postholes for the fence. It was hot. You brought us lemonade. He looked at you the way a man looks at a woman. Katie, you smiled at him.”

My reaction is physical, like a fist slamming into my gut. Staring into my brother’s eyes, knowing what he is thinking—what he has believed about me all these years—and I feel sick. The old shame churns inside me, a cauldron of acid eating away at my very foundation. “How dare you insinuate what happened was my fault.”

“I am not laying blame. But I cannot change what I saw.”

“For God’s sake, Jacob, I was a kid.”

My brother’s expression closes, and I realize he doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to hear my explanations. That I feel the need to defend myself shames me. I did what I had to do that day to save my life. But ingrained beliefs are difficult to exorcise no matter how valiant the attempt. I’ve always considered myself an enlightened woman. But I was raised Amish and some of those old values will always be a part of me.

I look around, fighting my way back to the present and the situation at hand. Once again I remind myself that I’m a police officer, that I have a murder to solve. Slowly, the dark emotions slink back into their hidey-hole.

Bowing my head, I rub at the ache between my eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need to find Lapp’s body.”

He stares at me for a long while, saying nothing, then turns and walks away.

My feet throb with cold. My fingers are numb. I’m not sure if the tremors ripping through me are from the temperature or the emotions freezing me from the inside out. The one thing I am certain of is that I’ve lost my brother. Another shattering truth piled on top of a dozen others. I feel like crying, but I pick up the shovel instead. Propping my flashlight against a broken cinder block, I set the blade to the frozen earth and dig.

CHAPTER 10

John knew better than to go to the bar. He knew if he did he’d end up getting shitfaced. He’d lose track of time and the bartender would end up pushing him out the door when they closed at two A.M. But like all the other nights he’d ended up at the Avalon Bar and Grill, it was better than drinking alone.