A Perfect Square (28 page)

C
ALLIE HELPED
R
ACHEL
L
APP
struggle to a sitting position again.

“I think you should probably stay seated awhile longer, Mrs. Lapp. Deborah and Shane will see to any problem that’s outside. And your husband. Don’t forget he’s out there as well — surely he will know what to do. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’ve had these dizzy spells for a year now. I suppose I know when they’ve passed. And you can call me Rachel. When people stumble through the valley of death together, they’re on a firstname basis.” Rachel adjusted her
kapp
as Callie tucked the blanket around her, then the older woman pulled her legs up under her dress in a more comfortable position.

Though she had to be in her late forties, she looked younger when she crossed her legs, as if she might be ready to plop a storybook or a child in her lap.

“How serious is the dizziness?”

“Not too serious. It always passes after a few moments.” Her gaze slipped toward the folder still waiting on the table, the Bible holding it firmly in place. Rachel’s eyes shimmered with tears, and her right hand went to her lips.

“Are you okay? Are you feeling light-headed again?”

“No, no. I’m all right. It’s my soul that’s grieving … grieving
over the loss of my
dochder
.” Rachel closed her eyes and began to rock gently.

“So you’re sure it was her?” Callie clasped Rachel’s other hand. It felt icy cold and she worried anew about the woman’s medical condition. Where was Shane with that phone? Where were the emergency medical personnel?

“
Ya
. There’s no mistaking your own flesh and blood. It’s Katie, though I can’t imagine what could have happened.” Opening her eyes, Rachel peered at Callie through the tears that slipped past her lashes and down her weathered cheeks. “What town did you say you were from?”

“Shipshewana.”

Rachel shook her head. “Can’t say as I know anyone in particular from that area. ‘Course Timothy might. He does business with folks from all over, but I don’t know what Katie would have been doing there. I can’t — “

She put her hands down on the floor, pushed, and made an awkward attempt to stand.

“You probably shouldn’t be up and about yet.”

“But I need to know, and I don’t understand.” Rachel rocked herself forward onto her hands and knees, managed to grab hold of the table and pull herself up.

“Patients who’ve fainted should rest for at least one hour.” Callie searched her mind to remember what she’d been taught in the CPR class. “Especially if the patient lost consciousness for more than one minute, which you did.”

Rachel turned on her with the fury of the rain beating against the barn. “I’m not a patient. I’m a
mamm
, and I’ll be finding out what happened to my Katie.”

Her voice gained strength as she straightened her dress and wagged a finger in Callie’s direction. “I believe the person who knows what happened is out in that storm. Now you can help me go out there, or you can stay in here spouting nonsense.”

Callie blinked once, then hurried through the office door to catch up with Rachel before she stepped out into the storm.

She’d begun praying again since moving to Shipshewana, though she couldn’t have pinpointed the exact moment it had happened. Perhaps it had been when she’d found herself alone with only Max for company. Or maybe it’d been when she’d discovered the editor’s dead body in the newspaper’s office. Definitely she was well into the habit by the time she, Deborah, Trent, and Andrew had faced death at the hands of a mafia thug.

Regardless of when she had first turned back toward God, Callie found herself calling on him now.

That he would calm the storm raging outside, that he would ease the pain in this family’s hearts, and that he would find a way to bring Reuben home.

Shane pushed Deborah flat against the feeding trough when the boy turned and stared at them. “He saw us. Don’t move.”

“He has a rifle,
ya
? That’s what we heard?” Deborah peeked over the top of the trough, but Shane pushed her head back down before she could see anything through the rain.

“Yes, he’s carrying a rifle, and he could have taken out either one of us if he’d had a mind to. Are you happy? What is it about a woman that loves to be right?”

“I don’t love to be right, Shane. It’s more the pieces of a puzzle coming together, exactly like the pattern of a — “

“Stay here. Don’t move unless I manage to draw him to the other side of the silo. If that happens I want you to run to the house and stay inside with Faith and the children until I tell you to come out. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but — “

“Deborah, look at me.” Shane put his hand to her shoulder, his face close, and she saw more than the usual intensity in his
eyes, she saw the concern and something that approached fear. “You give me a man with a gun and nine times out of ten I can tell you what he’s going to do, but a teenager is a different thing altogether. Teens don’t know their own minds or emotions yet. They’re volatile. You do what I say.”

Without waiting for an answer, he began to run along the side of the barn, his pistol held tight to his chest.

Deborah watched him until he turned the corner, until he was out of sight. Timothy still stood in the middle of the yard, calling out to Samuel, though the severity of the storm had increased and it was hard for her to make out what he was saying. But that wasn’t what made her completely disregard Shane’s instructions.

Looking toward the front of the barn, she saw the door open and saw Callie and Mrs. Lapp step outside.

She watched as Katie’s mom hesitated, then ran through the rain to her husband, nearly collapsing in his arms.

Callie followed, standing beside them and glancing occasionally around, as if aware that they were perfect targets for an angry young man with a rifle in his hands.

So Deborah stood and ran toward them as well, but her foot slipped in the mud, and she fell hard against the rain barrel, tearing the corner of her sleeve and opening a small gash in her arm. The bleeding wasn’t bad that she could see. She stood again and moved quickly toward the group, using more caution this time.

By the time Deborah reached them, it felt as if the wind had turned and was blowing from the north. She thought she’d been wet up to that point, but now she was soaked and shivering. She fought to stop the tremors as she leaned in and spoke to the little group, telling them what Shane had said — all the while holding her sleeve together with her other hand.

Timothy broke away from his wife. “I’m going after him. Rachel, go inside with the
kinner
.”

“I won’t. If Samuel had anything to do with this, I’ll see it for myself.”

Turning, Timothy put both hands on his wife’s arms. “I will bring him to you, Rachel. I’ll bring him back and he’ll explain what happened. You know that Samuel wouldn’t have hurt our Katie. He loved her. It’s only that he’s afraid now. He’ll come back inside and explain what happened. I’ll bring him to you.”

“Do you promise?”

“
Ya
.” The one word and Timothy was gone.

Rachel turned toward the house and stumbled. Deborah and Callie both reached out to stop her from falling.

Deborah’s eyes locked with Callie’s.

“You take her inside and I’ll follow Mr. Lapp,” Callie said. “The dress would slow you down.”

“But — “

“My gosh, Deborah. When did this happen?” Callie moved Deborah’s hand, inspecting the gash in her arm.

“It isn’t bad. I fell and hit it against — “

“Go inside, Deborah. Faith will clean this and bandage it. Go inside and stay with Faith and Rachel.”

Realizing she would slow everyone down trying to hold the sleeve of her dress on, Deborah relented. “All right, but be careful. Samuel headed toward the east silos, and Shane went after him.”

Callie paused for a quick hug, and then she rushed to catch up with Shane.

Deborah put her arm around Rachel and helped her toward the porch steps of her home.

W
HEN
C
ALLIE
rounded the corner of the barn, she was confronted with three silos.

If she had thought they looked enormous from the road, she really had no idea. From the ground, they towered over her like the redwood trees she’d seen when visiting California.

Attached to the side of each was a metal ladder that climbed straight to the top of the silo where a door was placed to allow access to the interior of the silo. Suspended between each silo hung metal catwalks. While she’d paused to stare, Timothy had caught up with Shane, who’d stopped as well.

“As I came around the corner, I had a visual on the boy headed in that direction, but he disappeared.” Shane pointed toward the far side of the silos.

Timothy nodded once and stepped forward, toward the nearest silo. Shane grabbed the big man’s arm and pulled him back under the roof overhang of the barn.

“You understand he’s armed?” Shane asked.

“I understand Samuel’s carrying my new hunting rifle, and I mean to take it back.”

“He took a shot at us earlier.”

“He’s scared.”

“Sir, that boy may have killed your daughter.”

“He may know something about what happened.” Timothy wiped at the water on his face. “But I thought you said the man who killed my daughter was in jail.”

Shane stared toward the silos and back again, then glanced at Callie. It was plain he wanted to say more, but there was no time. “I thought he was, but it could be we have the wrong guy.”

Timothy seemed to consider that, ran his fingers through his rain-soaked beard, and nodded once. “Fair enough. Only way to find out is to fetch Samuel and take him inside. Can’t talk to him outside in the pouring rain.”

Shane shifted his pistol from his right hand to his left. “All right. We’ll circle the silos completely, then we’ll meet at the back. Do not head up unless there’s a definite sign of him up there.”

“Agreed.” Timothy glanced from Callie to Shane. “Whistle once if you see him above ground. I’ll take the left silo.”

“I’ll take the right.”

“I’ll take the middle one,” Callie said.

“No you won’t.” Both men turned on her as one.

“Wait here, Callie. I don’t even know why you came.”

“
Ya
, it could be dangerous. Plus those ladders are slippery. I’m used to climbing them, so it’s no problem for me.”

Timothy headed off to the left.

“I can’t believe you’re okay with him charging out into the middle of this. He’s personally involved and unarmed, but you want me to stay put? It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it? Since when did you become a sexist, Shane Black?”

Shane hesitated, pulled Callie close, and ran his hand up and down her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. Kissing her on the forehead, he whispered, “For once, please listen to me.”

Then he was gone.

Callie wanted to fume. She wanted to be angry with Shane.
She wasn’t a china doll that needed protecting. But thinking about the way Shane had looked at her, the way his hand had felt on her arm, and his lips had caressed her skin, Callie couldn’t muster any anger. Her forehead still tingled.

Which was ridiculous.

The last thing she needed were romantic notions in her head at a time like this. He’d probably kissed her to distract her. It would be just like him to use unfair tactics.

Callie could walk around a silo as well as anyone.

Glancing left, then right, she dashed forward into the pouring rain. Within two minutes she had run around to the back of the silo. From the front, she’d thought she would be able to see Shane and Timothy, but the silos weren’t exactly in a line. For one thing, they weren’t the same size.

The middle silo was a bit smaller in circumference but taller. Perhaps it was older. Looking toward the other two silos, she could only see their backs, not their fronts nor the sides where the ladders were located.

She also couldn’t see Shane or Timothy at all.

No doubt, if Samuel were here, he would have hidden in the farthest structure. Right?

In fact, if Samuel were here, and if he were guilty of killing Katie, why was he hanging around at all?

Why wasn’t he on the run?

Callie had turned to walk to Shane’s silo, questions tumbling through her mind, rain soaking through her clothes, when she heard the clamor of boots against metal.

Pivoting around, she saw only the back of her silo.

Timothy had said the ladders were on the side. The side she hadn’t seen yet. She ran toward the east, and there was the metal ladder, stretching to the very top. Looking up she could just make out Samuel’s figure, more than halfway up the metal ladder of her silo. The hunting rifle was slung over his shoulder, and he seemed
completely focused on placing hand over hand, on climbing as quickly as possible.

Why?

What was the point?

What could he possibly do from there?

Then she realized again that her silo was taller. Much taller. Stepping back she studied the layout, pushing the water out of her face as the rain continued to pour from the sky.

The ladder went to the very top of the silo, to the door. But the catwalk that stretched in between this middle silo and the other two was at the two-thirds mark. As she watched, Samuel was approaching it. Would he stop there? Or would he continue up?

From the top, he’d have a perfect perch, a perfect sharpshooter’s position.

Callie put two fingers into her mouth to whistle and blew hard, but no sound came out.

She’d had trouble whistling as a child, but finally caught the knack of it somewhere along junior high. Now? Nothing. It wasn’t like she’d been practicing, but you’d think she could produce something.

She thought about hollering. Would it alert Samuel though? Would he do something crazy if he heard her?

She thought about running to one of the other silos. But both were too far. She could run there, but by the time she reached them, Samuel would be in place at the top of hers. So instead of running for help she grabbed hold of the metal ladder and began to climb.

What could she do if she caught up with him? Talk to him. That’s all. Persuade him to calm down, to hand over his rifle, to climb back down with her. Maybe, just maybe, he would listen to a woman if he was intimidated by and responding aggressively to a man. Maybe.

As she climbed, Callie tried to remember what her handgun
instructor in Texas had said about rifles. She hadn’t paid much attention, since she wasn’t a hunter. She seemed to recall something about rifles having an effective range of up to a thousand meters, depending on the caliber. Pausing halfway up the ladder, she looked over her shoulder, looked back through the pouring rain toward the silo Timothy was checking out.

Both Timothy and Shane would be easily within range.

When Samuel reached the platform of the silo, he paused to catch his breath. He didn’t know why his heart was racing so, but perhaps it was the thought that he was finally going to have to face up to what he had done. After all, he’d backed himself into a corner by climbing to the top of the silo. He’d only thought to put some space between himself and the strangers. He’d panicked, and he’d gone to the one place he didn’t think they’d follow. The one place where he was sure he could see everything.

But now what was there left to do?

Give himself up?

Jump?

Admit the terrible thing that had happened?

All the options running through his mind were awful, as awful as the memory of Katie lying on the floor of Reuben’s house. Samuel couldn’t think of a way to make this situation right. Once again he’d left himself with no options. Or had he?

Could he escape?

Did he even want to escape?

He couldn’t imagine living in the
Englisch
world, which was why he hadn’t run into the woods and across the fields. It would have been easy enough to lose the
Englischer
who’d arrived in the car. But Samuel had been to Fort Wayne and Indianapolis to take care of errands for Timothy, and both towns had left him feeling crowded and a bit dirty.

Not as dirty as the memory of what happened with Katie though.

Thoughts of Katie made his chest hurt worse than the climb up in the pouring rain. He slung the rifle off his back, checked that the scope was adjusted correctly, and raised it to his shoulder to peer through the lens.

The shot he’d fired into the air had sent everyone scurrying. A scope worked as well as an
Englischer
’s high-powered binoculars. He’d walk around the catwalks, make sure the coast was clear, then decide what to do.

Samuel moved away from the ladder, walked to the front of the silo, and brought the rifle up again to look toward Timothy’s farmhouse. Then he heard his father-in-law’s voice, calling out to him from the adjacent silo.

“Put the rifle down, Samuel.”

Lowering the rifle a fraction, Samuel saw Timothy beginning to cross the catwalk.

“Stay where you are!” Samuel yelled. “Don’t come any closer.”

He’d picked the center silo because it afforded him a good view of both the barn and the other two silos. The catwalks stretched away from him like spokes on a wheel.

Timothy continued walking slowly, his hand stretched out in front of him.

“I want to talk to you, Samuel, but we can’t do it here.”

“Drop the rifle, Samuel.”

Samuel jerked around and saw the
Englischer
fifty feet away on the other catwalk and closing in. Gripped between both hands, he was holding a pistol.

“Put the rifle down, then push it away with your foot.”

Samuel tightened his grip on the rifle, tried to decide if he should try to explain about what had happened in Shipshewana, if they would even believe him at this point, or if it was too late.

Wind tore at his clothes and rain continued to pelt against his skin.

“Samuel, Katie wouldn’t want you to do this.” The woman’s voice came from behind him.

Spinning around, Samuel saw a woman nearly in front of him, so close he could practically touch her. She was petite like Katie. But she was a good ten years older and definitely
Englisch.
What was she doing on his silo? How had she managed to climb up here? Rain soaked her hair, and her clothes revealed a figure that was more like a boy’s. Did she know his Katie? How could she?

“Callie! Move away from him!” The
Englischer
’s voice was sharp, like the sound of boots on metal. “Put the rifle down, boy, or I will shoot.”

“He’s a good man, Samuel. He doesn’t want to hurt you.” The woman moved toward him, glancing down at the ground nervously as she did. “You’ve frightened him because you’re holding the rifle.”

“How can I frighten anyone?” Samuel replied, backing up from the woman, backing up until the edge of the railing pressed against his back.

“He doesn’t know what you’re going to do. Put the rifle down or hand it to me, and he’ll put away his gun.”

“No. Then he’ll take me to the
Englisch
jail. Don’t you see? I can’t go there. I’d rather die first.”

Salt ran across Samuel’s lips, dripped into his mouth, and he realized he was crying. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry since the hours he’d spent hiding in the woods behind Reuben’s house. Now the tears were building inside of him like the giant storm clouds that pressed down above them. He bit down hard on his lips, clutched the rifle tighter until he felt he must be leaving marks in the stock of Timothy’s new Browning A-Bolt.

“Look at me, Samuel. Look at me.” Timothy’s voice brokered no argument, and against his will, against all of his doubts,
Samuel turned to look at him. “Give me the rifle. You know it’s wrong to take what doesn’t belong to you.”

Samuel looked down at the rifle he gripped, ran his hand along the walnut finish, now slick with rain. They’d talked for months about the hunting season, about the meals they would share this winter. About the small home out back that he and Katie would live in once they’d been married. The home that still hadn’t been built. He hadn’t been able to force himself to walk past the little clearing.

Both Shane and Timothy were closing in on where he stood, but he could barely focus on them. A sob shook Samuel’s body, and suddenly he didn’t want to hold the rifle anymore. He tossed it to Timothy, who caught it with one hand.

“That’s
gut.
Now come with me. Come inside and explain what happened to my
dochder.
”

“What is there to tell, Timothy? She’s dead.” The confession shot out of him like the lightning that flashed across the sky. “She’s dead, and it’s my fault. Isn’t that enough for you? Must you have every detail?”

Samuel placed his hands on the railing, certain now of his path. With the agility of someone comfortable on the high catwalks of the silos, he did what he must have known he’d climbed the silo to do. Before anyone could move, he climbed over the rail.

“
Ya
, I do want to know the details. You think a father doesn’t deserve to know how his oldest died?” Timothy said. “You owe me that and more.”

Timothy’s words were like a slap to his face.

“Did you love Katie, Samuel?” The woman’s voice was soft, soothing, and nearly a statement.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I can see that Timothy respects you. The way he argued with Shane shows he cares about you as well, or he’d have allowed Shane to come up here after you alone. I’m guessing you must have loved Katie.”

“Of course I loved her!” The words hurt more than they should have. Love shouldn’t rip at your chest this way, shouldn’t tear and shred.

He and Katie had imagined a life together. Why had it ended so suddenly? Tears clouded his vision and he released the railing with one of his hands, wiped at his eyes.

Everyone moved closer at once.

“Stay back! Why don’t you all just stay back? Can’t you see I deserve this? I didn’t protect her like a husband is supposed to. I should have been the one to die.”

“You married her?” Timothy asked, his voice a broken thing.

“Yes. Yes, I did. And she died, and it’s my fault, and now I’ll pay for that, but I won’t go to an
Englisch
jail. I won’t do that for you or for anyone else.”