Material Witness (26 page)

“Sounds as if they should spend the day with me,” his
dat
had said.

“I’ll take Hannah to your
mamm
’s. I was planning on going to the shop this afternoon.”

“
Ya
. Figured you might.” Then he’d kissed Hannah and squeezed Melinda’s arm — Aaron noticed he was always doing little things like that, as if his parents had this unspoken language between them. “Come with me, boys. There’s always plenty of work.”

And there had been. Aaron had never considered himself pampered, but he couldn’t remember a day when he’d worked as hard as this morning. He’d actually been happy when his
daed
had pointed to the chicken feed. “Not sure that I fed them well enough this morning. Why don’t you go and check on them.”

It was probably an excuse to give him a rest, but Aaron wasn’t about to call him on it. The day had grown warmer, and the chicken coop had a few areas of shade.

But when he was done feeding the chickens, he had to move out of the coop and to the barn. His next chore was to wash three pair of work boots — two were his
dat
’s and one was his
bruder’
s. Aaron found them sitting near the barn door next to a large bucket of water and a brush. Great. Maybe he could fall into the water and cool himself off.

If this was the price of rebellion, a single act would suit him
fine. Settle this one situation with Mrs. Knepp’s killer, and he’d walk the line for the rest of his years.

He picked up a boot and a brush, wondering what would happen if he soaked the boot in the water. When Matt touched his shoulder he almost threw the boot in the air instead.

“Little jumpy, aren’t you?”

“Make some noise instead of sneaking up on a guy.”

“Guess you were pretty focused on that mud.”

“There’s plenty of it to focus on. Think you could manage to walk around it next time?”

“Be glad you’re working with boots and not horses. At least a boot will stand still for you.” Matt leaned against the barn wall and studied him. “Having second thoughts?”

“No. Are you?”

“‘Course not, but we’re going to have to change our plans. They’re not going to let us out of their sights today.”

“I figured as much.”

They both considered the implications of that for a few minutes. Almost against his will, Aaron’s mind went back to John Wayne.

Justin called him The Duke.

He’d watched two movies starring The Duke. In both of them The Duke had been in a lot worse fixes. He’d certainly had to do worse things than feed chickens and clean muddy boots.

The Duke had fought terrible weather, fought bears, even fought bad outlaws.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Matt asked.

“Thinking this is nothing. We need to find a way to take care of the Creeper before he hurts someone else.”

Matt smiled and plucked a tall weed, began chewing on it. “We’ll get our chance, long as we keep our eyes open. That’s why I told Martha to go ahead and pick up the cell phone. We need to be ready. If we do our work and keep our heads down, everyone
will think we’ve forgotten whatever we had in mind. That’s when we’ll go after him.”

As Matt turned and walked back into the barn, Aaron continued scrubbing the boot. He didn’t want to leave the job half done if their chance to square things with the killer did pop up. Anything could happen in the next few hours.

One thing seemed certain.

Creeper’s minutes were numbered.

Aaron could feel it.

T
HE CROWD GATHERED
in her quilt shop on Saturday was larger than ever. Callie peered out over the register and spotted Gavin in the reading corner. He once again wore his elderly guise, but this time he was dressed as a golfer waiting on his suburban wife. She wondered how she could have fallen for it before.

He was so obviously not old — she was pretty sure she could see the outline of his shoulder muscles through the polo shirt, now that she knew what to look for.

Still, from a distance, she supposed the clothes and makeup might work. Especially if the killer wasn’t expecting an undercover cop to be in the store.

Swapping places with Perla had been remarkably easy. Perla had carried the trash to the alley. She was just setting the garbage cans out when the trash truck pulled up. Callie jumped off the truck Shane had put her on, and Perla jumped on in her place. The garbagemen emptied her cans and waved as usual.

It all happened so quickly Callie found herself wondering if she’d dreamed the entire thing. Except Max wasn’t here by her side. Proof the nightmare was a reality. She smiled at the couple she was checking out, then glanced past them to her office. She’d gathered together a bag full of treats for Max and couldn’t wait to take it to him tonight.

Except someone was in her office, bending over the bag.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Callie rushed around the counter to confront the woman.

A few inches taller than Callie was, with platinum-blonde hair tucked under a wide-brimmed, purple hat, the woman who glanced up couldn’t have been older than thirty. She looked at Callie in surprise, her purple-tipped, manicured fingers going to her lips to stop a giggle from escaping — a giggle that sent a shiver zipping down Callie’s spine.

She’d heard it once before, when the culprit had first called.

“Why are you in my bag? Why are you in my office?”

The woman pushed past Callie, barreling her way to the door and out into the late morning sunshine.

Callie ran after her, determined to catch one half of the Creeper-Giggles team. But the woman was already vanishing into the crowd that lined the streets, vanishing among the folks who had come to enjoy the festival.

Someone was pulling on Callie’s arm, holding her back. She fought to yank free, but Gavin’s voice in her ear stopped her. “Stay here. Call Shane.”

He disappeared into the crowd, chasing the woman in the purple hat.

Lydia handed Callie her phone before she could ask for it.

“Can you still see her?”

“No. I’m too short.”

“Stand over there. On the bench.”

“Would you go back inside and help the customers?”

“
Ya
, but be careful.”

Running down the sidewalk to the bench, Callie excused herself as she stepped up beside an old man who was feeding pigeons. Her fingers had already found the buttons to hit in order to speed-dial Shane.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked.

“I’m fine. She was here. The woman who’s helping Creeper.”

“At the shop?”

“Yes, but she pushed past me and ran outside. She’s headed north on Main. Gavin is chasing her. I can still see her —”

The old man on the bench scooted over and nearly knocked her off the bench.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m trying to see something here.”

“Pigeons still need feeding.”

“Stay focused, Callie. I’m leaving the police station now. Describe what you’re seeing.”

“I’m trying. She’s in front of the food tent — Sir, if you hit me with any more of those bread crumbs I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Grumbling, the old man returned to feeding the birds.

“Shane, she’s past the music tent. I can barely see her purple hat — I’m serious, sir. The bread goes on the ground, not on the bench. Shane, can you arrest this man?”

“Can you see Gavin?” Shane was not easily distracted.

“He’s followed her around the back of the barbeque pork tent.”

“All right. I’m three blocks from you.”

“Wait. She’s come out the other side and now she’s taking off across Main. I … I can’t see her anymore, but —” Callie’s breath caught in her chest. The birds continued pecking around her feet on the bench. She heard the old man cooing to them, but all those things faded, like a movie turned down to background noise.

“What’s wrong?”

She jumped down from the bench, scattering the birds and causing the old man to stand and limp away.

“I never saw Gavin come out from behind the tent. I’m going over there.”

“No, Callie. Stay where you are. Do not leave the shop. In fact, I want you to go back inside. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Promise.”

The words felt like pieces of glass as they left her throat. “I promise.”

“I’ll check on him. I’ll be there in two minutes. You go back inside.”

The line went dead, but she continued holding the phone, continued staring in the direction of the tent. All she could see now were hundreds of people. Gavin didn’t appear anywhere in the crowd, and neither did the purple-hatted lady.

Finally she turned and walked back into the quilt shop.

Shane found Gavin lying on the ground unconscious with a four-inch gash across his forehead. Shane had already called in a description of the lady with the purple hat and available personnel were scouting the festival searching for her. Now he called for a medic on his cell phone, requesting that the emergency personnel park on the adjacent block and enter from the back of the building so as not to draw any attention. Then he called Captain Taylor. “Can you send Leroy to me?”

“Location?”

“Behind the barbeque pork tent on Main Street.”

“We can have him to you in ten minutes. Who’s the medic for?”

“Gavin.”

“Status?”

“Four-inch laceration across the front of his scalp. He’s unconscious, but his pulse and color are good. He was in pursuit of a woman Callie believes is our perpetrator’s accomplice.”

“I’ll send someone to take Callie’s statement.”

“Better not. He might be watching.”

“All right. How do you want to handle this?”

“I’ll get the statement from Callie, but I want Leroy to gather fingerprints from the weapon.”

“Which was?”

“A wood block.”

“Say again.”

“Wood block, Captain. You know. It’s a type of musical instrument.” When Taylor grunted, Shane shifted the cell to his left hand and held the pressure bandage he’d made from ripping off the hem of his shirt, applying steady pressure to Gavin’s head, with his right hand. “Send Leroy in his personal vehicle. He’s our best crime tech. We definitely have some footprints and if we’re lucky, he’ll score fingerprints as well.”

“Already on his way.”

Replacing the cell phone in his pocket, Shane studied the scene until the medic arrived. He hoped Gavin could be transferred without too much attention. The last thing he needed was gawkers and a crowd.

Once again he had the creeping sensation of a noose tightening. He hoped it was their perp’s neck that was in the loop.

Thirty minutes later Gavin was conscious and being worked on by the medic.

“She can stitch it here. I’m fine.”

Shane looked to Sylvia, who shook her head and showed him her clipboard. Fortyish with short, gray hair, she was what Shane’s mom would call “sturdy.” There was no nonsense about Sylvia. Shane had worked with her for at least five years — since she’d moved to Shipshe from Indianapolis. He’d seen her smile once — when Perla had slipped in the mud on the side of the road and sprained her ankle. Perla had been trying to help an Amish family who was broken down, but she knew nothing about changing the wheel on a buggy. She’d been one mad, muddy mess, and it had made Sylvia smile.

But most of the time, like right now, Sylvia was all business.

Turning her clipboard toward Shane she pointed to where she’d circled “possible concussion.”

“Sorry, Andrew.” Shane pushed the clipboard away. It was all he needed to see. “You have to get stitched up properly and have your head examined. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Sylvia’s top lip twitched, but she denied the smile while she repacked her supplies.

“I can’t believe I walked into her trap. I was a little behind when I followed her into the music tent and back out again. I was trying to catch up, came around the corner here, and that’s the last thing I remember.”

“Could have happened to any of us.”

“Shouldn’t have happened to me. Wouldn’t have happened to me when I was enlisted. You slip up like that overseas, you come back wrapped in a flag.”

“No one’s wrapping you in stars and stripes today. Call the Captain when they’re finished with you, and he’ll send someone to pick you up.”

He’d made it back to the Buick when the call came in over his radio.

“Black, we need you over here in the town’s supply barn.” Taylor sounded more grim than he had since they’d found Mrs. Knepp’s body.

“I was headed to the quilt shop to get Callie’s statement.”

“You’re going to want to see this.”

Shane was there in five minutes, and Leroy followed him. They didn’t have an overabundance of crime techs in Shipshe, but if things kept up like they had this past year, the council might look at hiring more. Not a cheery thought for a Saturday in September. The town’s barn was quiet this time of day. Most folks were downtown at the festival. The back area held animals that had been in the Saturday-morning parade. The front was a storage area reserved for vendors.

Shane had no trouble finding the crime scene.

This time there was an ambulance, though no lights were blinking. Leroy began setting up immediately.

Somehow Trent had managed to beat Shane there once again.

“Shouldn’t you be photographing the gospel quartet performing right now?”

“Sorry, Shane. This story’s going to take precedence.”

“Can we subpoena his police scanner?” Shane said to no one in particular.

“Wouldn’t do much good. I’m guessing he has a backup.” Taylor handed Shane the preliminary witness report, nodding toward two teenage Amish boys who were sitting on bales of hay near the door. “Those two found her when they came in to clean up the area. Their uncle had told them to do it first thing this morning, but they’d put it off.”

Shane handed the report back and moved closer to the deceased. “Estimated time of death?”

“I’ve been here less than three minutes. You think I can give you that?” Leroy didn’t even bother looking up as he continued taking photographs of the woman draped over the side of the barrel. “It looks to me like someone drowned her in two feet of water by draping her over the side of the barrel and holding her head under until the life drained out of her body. Then she was left here.”