Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One Read Online Free PDF Page A

least this was true. “Perry got mixed up with some bad people and started doing some things I didn’t want to be around.”
    “Bad, like how?”
    Walker turned to Luke in surprise. He’d thought Perry’s activities were well known. “Bad, like drugs. Bad, like drug dealers.” He paused and backpedaled fast. “I mean, that’s what people said.”
    “What kind of drugs?”
    “I don’t know.” He shifted. No way was he going into any more detail. Why had he even said anything?
    “Did you meet these drug dealers?”
    “No.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed. “Sure?”
    Walker hated the guy’s voice, like he was being super sarcastic. “I never met his drug dealers, okay?”
    “I’m still trying to figure out how Perry, who was Amish, would ever meet up with someone who sold drugs.” He paused. “Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around? That you were the one who introduced Perry to the ‘bad’ people?”
    Walker was stunned. The sheriff had never asked stuff like this. “I didn’t.”
    “I’m not here to get you in trouble, son . . .”
    The “son” comment grated on him like nothing else. “Just because Perry was Amish doesn’t mean he was innocent,” he snapped. Giving into his temper. “You outsiders think you know everything. You don’t. And just because I’m the Englischer doesn’t mean I’m going around smoking pot.”
    “Ah, so that’s what he was selling?”
    “I don’t know,” he said quickly. “I just was using that as an example.” If only Perry had just been selling pot. But he knew the drugs were a whole lot worse than that.
    The detective nodded. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Every once in a while I find myself slipping into the hope that the Amish are immune to the outside pressures of the world.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve seen so much, I guess I hope that there are some people in this world who didn’t screw up their lives so much.”
    “I’m not Amish, but my grandfather is. He might not have all the pressures of the outside world, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have pressure in his life. We all do. And we all react differently.”
    “That’s a good point.” He drummed his fingers on one of the metal braces surrounding his leg, then twisted two fingers and cracked his knuckles. The popping jarred against the sleepy sound of the pattering rain.
    Then the detective turned to Walker, his expression completely void of emotion. “So far you’ve told me nothing I didn’t already know. Tell me something new.”
    Pure relief filtered through Walker’s bones. For a minute there he’d thought he’d let something slip. “I don’t have anything else to tell you,” Walker said quickly, doing his best to sound as detached as he wished he was. “I once was friends with the guy. Then I wasn’t. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
    “Okay, well, what can you tell me about these drug dealers. Where did they come from? Were they local?” He paused. “You’re in college, right? Maybe they came from your college?”
    “I don’t know where they came from,” he retorted. “I never knew their names.” Feeling Luke’s skepticism bearing down hard on his shoulders, he added, “I didn’t want to know.” Looking out across the parking lot, at the thicket of trees, he ached to get away. To hide. To be anywhere but here being questioned.
    “Were the guys Amish?”
    Walker shook his head before he thought the better of it.
    And that made the detective smile.
    But still Luke didn’t look like he believed a word of it. “Come on, Walker. Give me something I can use. Don’t you want to know what happened to your friend? What were they? English? Amish? Old? Young?”
    Walker felt his world about to change. The last thing he wanted was to get further sucked down into Perry’s pit. “Both,” he finally said.
    Luke narrowed his eyes. “The drug dealers were both English and Amish?”
    “No. They were all English.