Page 88 of The Hidden One

He shoves a slicker at me, then puts his fingers to his mouth and emits an earsplitting whistle. “Junior!”

The boy thunders down the stairs, his eyes darting from me to his father. “Datt?”

“There’s a fire. At the Hershberger place. I’m going to help. Tell your mamm.”

I’m already across the room and yanking open the door. I hear Jonas behind me and then we’re down the steps, sprinting toward the Explorer.

CHAPTER 27

I zip through Belleville well over the speed limit. Rain hammers down on the roof in a deafening roar. Lightning splits the sky overhead. The thunder follows with such violence that the ground shakes.

Beside me, Jonas grips the armrest a little too tightly. “Maybe a lightning strike hit the barn,” he says. “Caused the fire.”

“Maybe.” But it’s the other possibilities that trouble me. I can’t help but think of the fire at the mill in the back of the property. The broken window. The graffiti spattered on the silo at Henry Stoltzfus’s farm.

Like father. Like son. Both in hell.

I glance away from my driving and look at Jonas. “Their farm has been vandalized in the past.”

He nods. “I remember hearing about it. The mill.”

“Henry Stoltzfus, too.” I tell him about the spray paint. “Any ideas?”

He shrugs. “Maybe it has to do with Ananias Stoltzfus.”

I blow the stop sign at Blue Run Road and hang a right. The Explorer hydroplanes, the rear end fishtailing. I slow as I approach the covered bridge. Little Kishacoquillas Creek has transformed into a raging torrent of churning brown water.

“We needed the rain,” Jonas mutters, “but not this much.”

I make the turn into the lane of the Hershberger farm. Mud and gravel ping against the undercarriage as I speed toward the house. I make the final turn to see the glow of a lantern ahead. Adrian is running toward the barn. A bucket in each hand.

“I don’t see a fire,” I say.

“Maybe he got it put out,” Jonas replies.

I slide to a stop a dozen yards from the barn. Then I’m out of the Explorer. Smoke hangs like a pall, black and wet and choking. I start toward Adrian.

“Where’s the fire?” I ask.

“Inside the barn!” he shouts.

“Is everyone out?”

“The cows!” he cries.

Jonas sprints past me toward the barn. I follow. The bellowing of cattle rises above the roar of rain against the roof. Jonas reaches the gate, struggles to open it. The silhouettes of a dozen head of cattle are backlit by the flames inside. The panicked animals push against the gate. Horns and bawling and the stench of terror. Jonas struggles with the chain, but it’s too tight to unfasten.

I scrape rain from my eyes, look around wildly. I run to the Explorer, hit the fob. The rear door yawns. I yank out the fire extinguisher, go to my toolbox. I tear it open, pull out the bolt cutters. I sprint to the gate. Jonas glances over his shoulder. I open the jaws of the bolt cutters, snap them down.

The chain springs apart. The gate flies open, strikes me in the chest, nearly knocking me down. A dozen cattle stampede past. Jonas snatches the fire extinguisher from me, charges into the barn. Flames shoot ten feet into the air. Not a huge fire, but gaining momentum. He fumbles the lever, aims, and sprays. The flames totter and leap. A final burst of heat. A billow of smoke. And then the fire goes dark.

We stand there a moment, breathing hard, looking at each other, knowing a disaster was narrowly avoided.

“This wasn’t a lightning strike,” I say.

Jonas nods. “Someone did this.”

The stink of wet ash hangs in the air. Residual heat presses against my face. Pulling out my mini Maglite, I shine the beam on a door that will ostensibly take me into the main part of the barn. I go to it, slide it open, go through. Jonas shadows me, on my right. Our feet are silent on the dirt floor as we enter.