Page 89 of The Witch's Orchard
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I sort of didn’t want to do it.”
I look at him. He looks at his drink.
He says, “Janice wanted more kids.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t. She grew up with four brothers and two sisters.”
“Big family. Where are they all now?”
“Brothers all joined the military, moved away. One sister stayed here. She used to look in on Max. But she died—cancer—a couple years ago. The other one went with her husband—Navy guy. They’re in San Diego now.”
“Janice wasn’t satisfied with two kids.”
He shakes his head.
“And you were?”
“I didn’t think we could afford any more kids. Didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“So, she wanted counseling.”
“Yes.”
“From two people who didn’t have any children.”
He shrugs and drains the rest of his drink and then says, “Yeah. She said the flock were the Zieglers’ children. The congregation. It sounded like a line straight from Bob.”
“You were never very religious, though, were you?”
Headshake.
“And it—the argument about kids—did it get worse after Molly was taken?”
Nod.
“Mister Andrews, who did you think took your daughter, back then?”
He looks at the bottle like he’s thinking about pouring himself another drink but then rests both his hands on the wooden countertop instead.
“Someone from the church,” he says. “I was sure of it.”
“Why?”
“It all went back there, didn’t it? The little Hoyle girl was taken from there. The Jacobs girl was taken from a church picnic.”
“But Molly wasn’t.”
“No,” he says. “No, but the Zieglers were here that day. They were in our home. Bob and Rebecca sat right there at our kitchen table and told us all about prayer and listening to God’s voice and whatever, and a couple hours later my little girl was gone.”
“Dwight Hoyle was also in your home.”
“Yes,” he said. “Apparently, he was. But—”
His brows draw together in agitation, and he looks down into his glass.
