A Perfect Square (3 page)

R
EUBEN WATCHED
D
EBORAH WALK AWAY.
Watched her walk toward Jonas, Esther, and her
Englisch
friends Trent and Callie.

Jonas wrapped his arms around her; then Esther and the children joined in the circle. Almost immediately, Callie Harper was pulled into their midst, and though Trent McCallister stood on the outside, soon he, too, was shaking hands with Jonas, tousling the
bopplin
’s hair, and lightly touching Deborah’s and Esther’s arms.

Good people, every one of them. Rueben hadn’t been much help when Deborah was trying to clear the
Englisch
woman’s name in the murder investigation last summer. Seemed ironic now. One thing he could bet the crops in his east field on — if Deborah Yoder said a person was honest and true, it was a fact.

Pulling in a deep breath, he forced his attention to the officer who stood waiting.

Didn’t allow himself to stare into the water.

Wouldn’t let himself look at Katie.

Though part of him needed to.

“Are there any corrections you’d like to make to Deborah’s statement?”

“No.”

“Do you know who the girl in the water is, Mr. Fisher?”

He didn’t answer that one. Reuben knew who Captain Stan Taylor was. In a town as small as Shipshewana, you came to know everyone’s name fairly quickly, and they’d both lived there as long as either could remember. After a long silence, Officer Taylor hitched up his pants and sighed before moving on to the next question. Reuben had seen Taylor around town plenty of times. Never had cause to speak to him before. Never had cause to like or dislike him.

“Any idea how she came to be in your pond?” Taylor asked.

Reuben shook his head.

Another police vehicle pulled in behind the truck that had brought Trent and Callie.

Reuben’s jaw began to ache from clenching it.

Taylor snapped his notepad shut. “We’re not making any progress with my questions. How about you tell me what you do know.”

Until that moment, Reuben had avoided looking directly at the
Englischer
, but now he sensed the challenge in the man’s words. He forced himself not to move, not to react physically in any way. That was easy enough after years of practicing
gelassenheit.
But of course this wasn’t a normal situation, and he didn’t feel anything close to calm or composed.

Was the girl’s death
Gotte’s wille
?

Hard to imagine.

Didn’t mean he’d be willing to work with the
Englischer
though.

“Well?” Officer Taylor asked. “Do you have anything to add?”

Reuben met his gaze, not attempting to hide his contempt. “No.”

Taylor stepped closer, close enough that Reuben could smell the man’s sweat. He remembered then this officer had once worked in the
Englisch
prisons, had been a supervisor of sorts
there. Tobias had told him all about it. Taylor had herded people in concrete jails at the county facility on the outskirts of town. He’d heard it was only for women, and only minor offenses at that, but the thought still turned his stomach. In other words, he was as foreign to Reuben as the scene unfolding before him right this minute.

“A dead girl shows up in your pond, less than a mile from your front door, and you don’t see or hear a thing? I might believe that of a woman working in the home or garden, or a man who is a bit slovenly or absentminded.” Taylor stepped back as the other officer approached, though he didn’t stop speaking. “But from the looks of your farm, Mr. Fisher, you’re aware of everything that happens in every field. I don’t quite believe that someone killed and dumped this girl and you didn’t see a thing.”

Taylor turned and walked away, toward the other officer, leaving Reuben by the pond with Katie.

For the first time in many years, Reuben no longer felt distanced from other people — separate, as though he were watching from the outside.

No, standing beside the water, unable to turn and look at the girl who still hadn’t been fetched, who couldn’t yet be properly buried, he felt completely involved in life — involved in a way that stirred an ache all the way to the marrow in his bones. An ache that spoke to the regret for the things he’d done in the last forty-eight hours, the decisions he’d made.

Decisions that couldn’t be changed.

Not now.

Though he was large, though he felt the strength he’d always known running through his muscles, Reuben was sure that his heart had been shattered in two.

C
ALLIE FLEW STRAIGHT INTO
D
EB’S ARMS.

It didn’t occur to her until later that her best friend might have wanted some time alone with Jonas. No. Callie’s single thought had been that she needed to be sure Deborah was all right, that she wasn’t hurt, that the call — the fatality — hadn’t involved her.

When Trent had driven up, she’d spotted Esther’s tall form immediately. With relief, she’d seen both of the younger children — Joshua and Leah. But when she hadn’t seen Deborah, her heart had stopped in her chest.

“Someone called in a fatality.” Trent’s words had echoed ‘round and ‘round through her head as they traveled from town.

Max stood in the small space behind the single bench seat inside Trent’s truck, his head resting over the back of the seat between her and Trent.

At one point on the ride over, Trent had tried to console her with
we don’t know
’s but she’d waved him off, pulled her feet up underneath her dress, and wrapped her arms around her knees. Some part of her realized she looked ridiculous still wearing the Amish clothing, but she didn’t care.

She needed to see Deborah.

She needed to know her friend wasn’t hurt.

Deborah couldn’t be dead.

With the weight of a bolt of cloth, it hit her — Deborah was the closest thing Callie had to family.

She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her too. She’d only recently begun to heal from all the trauma in her life. First the death of her husband, not even two years ago. They’d had no children, but there had been the one miscarriage. She’d felt so alone, so deserted when Rick had died. Then she’d received the letter informing her Aunt Daisy had passed away. She hadn’t intended to move to Shipshewana. Deborah would say God had plans for her — perfect plans. All of that had led to Callie becoming the shop owner of Daisy’s Quilt Shop — and, yes, she could see how it had
all worked for the good
, as Deborah was fond to quote. This, though — this couldn’t be good.

Jonas was ahead of them in his buggy. He’d pulled up beside Esther and the children. Callie jumped out of Trent’s truck before it came to a complete stop. Even from a distance, she could see the anxious expression on the face of Deborah’s husband.

Jonas tossed the reins of the horse on a nearby bush, not looking where they landed. His face pale around his beard, he strode toward Esther and scooped up Joshua, who’d run toward him.

“Callie, maybe you should give them some time.” Trent reached out for her arm. She heard his words, knew he might be right, but she could no more have stayed away than they could have held back the sunrise that morning if they’d all stood against the eastern horizon and pushed.

Running toward the group, Max at her heels, Callie saw Jonas glance up and then south, around the curve of the pond, where Esther was pointing.

Finally, finally Callie saw a splash of color from Deborah’s dark gray dress, then her white
kapp
, then the bit of her blondish-brown hair that had escaped from her
kapp.

Finally she saw Deborah standing and talking to Officer Taylor and Reuben.

Callie skidded to a stop so fast Max loped past her, then turned around and gave her a quizzical look.

Trent caught up and placed a hand at the small of her back. “What is it?”

Bending over, Callie pressed one hand to her side, rubbing at the stitch that had appeared. She hadn’t run that far, but perhaps she’d forgotten to breathe. Perhaps her fear had stolen her breath. Or perhaps she’d finally realized the value of friendship — on this bright fall morning, standing beside Reuben’s pond.

In that moment Callie realized Deborah’s friendship was more dear to her than she would have guessed — Deborah’s and Esther’s and Melinda’s.

She’d known it when they’d all faced danger before.

And she knew it again now.

Perhaps some lessons had to be learned anew each day.

“Callie? What’s wrong?” Then Trent must have caught sight of Deborah and Taylor and Reuben, because he began rubbing her back in small circles. “She’s all right. Deep breaths. I believe you might be having a panic attack.”

“I thought it was …” She waved toward the south end of the pond. “I thought the dead person …”

“I know. I know what you thought.” Trent’s voice was calm, solid, ever the newspaper man, but under that she heard her friend — and maybe, possibly, something more. Where Trent was concerned, she still hadn’t decided. “Are you okay, gorgeous?”

Pulling in a deep breath, Callie stood straighter, adjusted her long dress, and smiled — though it felt shaky and unnatural.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Let’s go see Jonas then and find out what this is all about.” Then Trent raised his Nikon camera and clicked a shot.

Deborah reached her family and
freinden
mere moments after she saw Callie and Trent arrive.

“How are you?” Jonas asked, running his hand up and down her arm.

“Are we free to go?” Esther looked worried, but steadier than before, holding on to Leah’s hand.

“Tell me you were never in danger!” Callie cried, throwing her arms around Deborah’s neck.

Joshua reached for Deborah too, pulling at her dress with his chubby hands and saying over and over, “
Mamm
,
Mamm
,
Mamm
,” in a sing-song voice. That he was completely unaware of what was going on brought her some measure of peace.

Trent stood back, taking it all in and trying to calm Max, who looked as if he wanted to leap into the middle of their get-together. Deborah did notice that his camera was slung around his neck, and he kept looking over at the murder scene.

Murder scene.

Was she really involved in another murder?

Perhaps it was an accident.

But the injury at the back of the girl’s head … Had there really been blood seeping through her
kapp
?

How could this happen?

She lived in a town of six hundred residents. There’d probably only been three murders there in the last twenty years: Esther’s husband, which no one in her community considered a murder; Stakehorn’s homicide, which they’d stumbled into while attempting to sell their quilts; and now this. Surely it was a coincidence that they had happened to stop and ended up finding the girl.

“Well? Can you go home?” Jonas pulled Joshua away and set him down on the ground. Immediately her son ran to Max and began patting the dog around his harvest-orange bandana — a color that most certainly did not match Callie’s dress.

Callie’s dress. It was Amish. Deborah opened her mouth to ask, but stopped when Callie held up her hand.

“Don’t ask,” Callie said. “I see your question, and don’t ask. It can wait. Tell us what Taylor said. Can you answer Esther’s question? Can you leave?”

“Leah’s tired, and I’d like to be at home.” Esther pushed at a wisp of hair that had escaped her
kapp.
“Not to mention I think the casserole I made for Tobias is ruined by now. A silly thing for me to think about, I know.”

“I’m afraid we have to stay,” Deborah said. At Esther’s look of dismay, she added, “The
kinner
can go, of course. Jonas, would you mind?”

“Not at all. I can take them home.”

“Could you take Leah by one of my
schweschdern
’s?” Esther straightened her daughter’s dress, kissing her on the cheek as she did. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Your
schweschder
Miriam is the closest. I’ll take her by there on the way home.”

“Thank you, Jonas.”

“But how long do you have to stay? Why do you have to stay? Haven’t you already talked to Taylor?” Callie moved her arms up and down as the questions spurted out of her like hot grease popping out of a pan.

Deborah smiled her first genuine smile in what felt like days.

“What? What did I say?” Callie asked.

“I think it’s the dress,” Trent whispered, then scooted around the group and began snapping pictures of the crime scene.

“Oh. I forgot. Yes, well. I’ll explain this — “ Callie smoothed down the apron over her dress, grateful Lydia had at least removed the
kapp.
“I’ll tell you about it later. What happened, Deborah? Who died?”

Deborah felt Jonas and Callie grow still and quiet, turn toward her, and wait for her answer. She found herself seeking Esther’s gaze.

Who had died?

No, Esther didn’t know either.

They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it. Hadn’t had a moment alone since Esther’s scream and Deborah’s run to find Reuben. But she knew in that moment that Esther had no idea who the girl was either.

“We don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think anyone knows. We’d stopped to pick flowers — “

“What if we hadn’t?” Esther asked. “How long might she have stayed there, undiscovered?”

“Not so long, I expect. Animals would have found her, and Reuben would have noticed that.” Jonas picked Joshua up again as the boy ran back to him and tugged at his father’s pants leg. “Is she Amish or
Englisch
?”

“She’s wearing Amish clothing, though I don’t suppose that means she is plain.” Deborah again took in Callie’s clothing, wondering absently what her friend had been up to while at the same time it occurred to her there would probably be several reasons why someone might want to appear to be Amish.

“So if you spoke to Officer Taylor, why do you have to stay?”

“County personnel are coming,” Deborah explained. “We’ll have to give our statement again, and Officer Taylor hasn’t had a chance to actually question Esther at all. I think he didn’t want to go into detail with her in front of the
kinner.
”

“County personnel?” Esther frowned as she motioned Leah away from Max. “You don’t mean — “

But she didn’t have to say Shane Black’s name. Before she could finish her question, they all heard two more cars bumping down the lane and watched them pull into the now-crowded area surrounding the pond.

Deborah would probably never feel completely comfortable with the county sheriff, who was tall, lanky, with dark, piercing eyes. But he’d saved her life. He’d been there for her and Callie
when they needed him most. For that Deborah was willing to overlook the fact that some in their Amish community were ill at ease around him, including herself and Esther.

Shane Black might not do things the way they wanted them done. He was patient to the point of resembling a bulldog more than a man at times, but he did it for the good of their community — the community of Shipshewana, both Amish and
Englisch.

It could be for this situation, for the girl still waiting in the pond, that Shane was precisely the person they needed.