“To Alvin.” Abe stood now, as if he expected to see the arsonist pop out of the woods.
“I knew that by running I’d look guilty, but the pictures…”
“I’m fairly sure Meg can have these pictures analyzed. She can prove conclusively that they’ve been tampered with.”
“How can you know that, Henry? How can you know it for certain?”
“Simple. You weren’t there, and you didn’t do it.”
A look of relief washed over Alvin’s face at those words. Until that moment, Henry would not have guessed how much his opinion mattered to Alvin, but then he had been the man’s bishop. He’d shared meals with Alvin and Abe. Sometimes he forgot that he stood as a father figure to many in his congregation. And sons always needed the blessing of their father.
“You believe that? You believe I’m innocent?”
“I do.”
Alvin drew in a big breath and sank into the chair Abe had vacated. “What should I do now? Am I supposed to sit here and wait?”
“Nein. You come with me. You show Meg the evidence, and you answer any of her questions. Show her you’re innocent, Alvin.”
“But what if—”
“Let’s do the right thing here. Abe and I will be by your side the entire time.” After a moment he added, “What’s the alternative? You can fish only so many days before you’ll be missing your family and your classroom.”
“Gave up fishing years ago. Hurts my shoulder.”
“There you go.” Henry smiled, the anxiousness he’d been battling suddenly fading away. For once it felt as though they were on the offensive instead of playing catch-up. With the letter and the photographs, they were one step closer to catching the Monte Vista arsonist. Which might provoke him into more drastic measures, but that was a chance they would have to take.
Sixty-One
Rachel had taken some convincing, but she eventually agreed that Clyde, Silas, Katie Ann, and Emma should be the ones to attend the evening’s meeting.
“We’re not going to encounter the arsonist,” Clyde assured her. “Only a barn full of stubborn youngie.”
The Kline home was on the far end of their district, and the barn was a fair distance from the house, which was probably why the kids had chosen it. Driving down the lane, Emma couldn’t tell that anything at all was happening, and for a moment she wondered if Silas had the time or place wrong. One glance at his face assured her that wasn’t so. He looked absolutely miserable.
Instead of going directly to the barn, Clyde stopped at the house to speak with Marcus Kline, who stepped out onto his front porch. Emma could tell from their body language that Marcus didn’t believe a word Clyde was saying, but he shrugged, stepped back into the house, and returned with his hat planted firmly on his head.
Clyde motioned for her, Silas, and Katie Ann to join them.
“Best to walk up on them quietly, otherwise they’re likely to scatter like a bunch of rabbits.”
“Still hard to believe,” Marcus said. “My son’s in his bed already. We spent a long day in the fields, and he went to sleep early. Said he was exhausted.”
“Did you check to see if he was there?”
“I did not.” Marcus was an odd-looking guy. No hair remained on the top of his head, though he had the typical Amish beard and very bushy eyebrows. He wasn’t a great deal of fun to be around—usually forecasting doom about the weather or the crops or Englischers or the next generation. Anyone else would have shortened their name to Mark, but Marcus did not. In spite of all that, he was a hard worker, fair, and as far as Emma knew, not considering moving out of Monte Vista.
Silence fell around their little group as they neared the barn.
Marcus stopped suddenly, causing Emma to bump into Clyde, and Silas and Katie Ann to bump into her. They stood there in the dark, listening to the sound of voices inside. A beam of light escaped under the barn door.
Marcus hesitated, as if he needed a moment to accept what he was about to see.
Then he opened the door, and they all filed inside.
There was a surprising amount of light in the barn because each teen was holding a battery-operated lantern or a flashlight.
Emma sometimes forgot so many youngies were in their congregation. Sure, she saw them at church, and when they filed through the food line, and as they played volleyball or softball. Usually in those instances they were in smaller groups. Seeing them all together… well, it was eye-opening.
Watching them as they perched on bales of hay and overturned crates, and even sat on the floor, she realized how concerned they were—not for themselves but for each other. This reminded her they were good kids, of various ages, and every one of them cared about their community. Like so many generations before them, they thought they were smarter and better equipped. They’d convinced themselves they needed to step in and do something. She might be able to fault them for their arrogance, but their hearts were in the right place.
“Don’t even think about running,” Marcus said as he trudged to the front of the room where his son, Nathan, was standing. “You and I will talk about this later. For now you can take a seat.”
The boy swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed, but he sat down without another word.
“This apparently has something to do with the fires.” Marcus waited, but no one spoke.
Emma remained near the door, as if she could keep anyone from escaping. She could possibly throw herself on the floor in front of someone and trip them, slow them down a little, but she couldn’t actually stop any of these teenagers and young adults from running away. Silas moved to the back of the room, where he was standing next to a young girl whose name Emma couldn’t remember. Katie Ann stayed at her side.
Clyde stepped forward, and after a nod from Marcus, addressed the group. “We know you’re planning something, that you’re trying to help. But we can’t let you put yourselves in danger.”
Emma was surprised no one argued with him. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.
“We’d like you to go home now, and we’ll be in contact with your parents.”
“You’re ratting us out?” one of the boys from the back asked.
“Can’t say I know what that means.”
“You’re going to turn us in to our parents and get us in trouble so we can’t help at all.”
“What I’m doing is keeping you out of harm’s way.”
Now one of the older boys stepped forward. It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of Clyde that Emma recognized it was Jesse Kauffmann, Leroy’s oldest son.
“But you can’t do that. No one can. And what we’re doing? It’s already started, so you can’t stop that either.”
“Maybe you need to explain to me exactly what you had in mind.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You will. You’ll either tell me or your father or the police.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be?”
“It is.”
Everyone started talking at once then—all of the kids, Marcus, Clyde. Even Silas was talking in an urgent voice to the girl beside him.
Clyde allowed it to continue for a moment, and then he raised his hand to get everyone’s attention. He pointed at Jesse Kauffmann. “I want you to stay, as well as my son, the girl beside him…”
“And my son,” Marcus added.
“Stay for what?” Jesse asked.
“So we can have a private conversation. The rest of you go home. Whatever you thought you were going to do tonight, forget about it. And when you get up in the morning, be honest with your parents. It’s better if they hear about this from you before I speak with them.”
Sixty-Two
I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.” Emma sat down on a hay bale, next to Silas and the pretty girl he’d been standing beside.
“Naomi. Naomi Miller. I only arrived from Missouri a few weeks ago. I’m staying with my aenti.”
Emma nearly slapped her foreh
ead. The girl was the spitting image of Abigail Beiler. She should have recognized that. “It’s gut to have you in our community.”
“It’s not social time, Mammi.” Silas kept throwing glances at his father. “I think he’s upset.”
“Oh, he’s upset all right, but we’ll work this out. We can work out anything so long as we’re honest with one another.”
And perhaps it was those words that dissolved the tension in the room. Clyde and Marcus pulled crates over so that they formed a tight circle. Jesse set his lantern down in the middle, and Nathan hung his on a hook near where they sat. The light was warm but not too bright. Emma thought it invited confidences to be shared. My, but she was feeling optimistic now that she saw with her own eyes that all of the children were fine.
Katie Ann sat down beside her brother.
Jesse, Nathan, and Silas.
Katie Ann and Naomi.
Even Emma could tell these were the leaders of the bunch. While everyone in the larger group had been talking, they’d looked to these five for confirmation of their fears and answers to their questions.
What was interesting was that they were so different. Jesse was built like his father, Leroy. He was small and thin and would have looked like a much younger teen if it weren’t for the muscles along his forearms and the deep farmer’s tan. Nathan, conversely, was built rather like a bull—stocky, with hair that wouldn’t be tamed, popping out at odd angles. Beside those two, Silas looked younger, which she supposed he was. Silas was an odd combination of his father, Clyde, and Emma’s husband, George. He was tall like his father, wiry like his grandfather, and he gave the distinct impression of his body not quite having caught up with the size of his feet—an eleven the last time they’d bought shoes.
The girls, in contrast, could have been sisters. Naomi and Katie Ann were both blond, though Naomi’s hair had a slight tinge of red to it. They were thin with a smattering of freckles across button noses. If there were a stereotype for Amish girls, Naomi and Katie Ann were it, at least on the outside. And yet Katie Ann hoped to find a way to work with horses, and Naomi had been sent from Missouri to Colorado to live with her aenti. Neither fit in the pigeonhole of an Amish girl working in a bakery, which only went to prove looks could be deceiving.
“Start at the beginning,” Clyde suggested.
Jesse began ticking off points on his fingers. “There have been four fires in the last three weeks. Two at Amish homes—Vernon’s and Henry’s. Two have been at Englisch establishments—JSW Construction and the newspaper.”
“We’re all aware.” The corners of Marcus’s mouth turned down as he pulled on his beard.
“We know the investigator thinks this person is targeting Amish folk, that for whatever reason he or she—”
Clyde said, “He, for certain.”
“He has a vendetta against our community, our people.”
“Or Amish in general,” Naomi said.
Silas looked at the girl with such affection that it caused Emma’s heart to ache. When had he grown up? He must have become a man while she was hanging laundry and baking pies.
“Tell me why you all decided to become involved.” Clyde looked tired, but he’d always been good handling the children. In the short time since they’d entered the barn, he’d moved from correcting them for their behavior to problem solving with them.
Emma knew he’d be fair, though that didn’t mean he’d agree with what they were doing.
“We became involved because the adults haven’t done anything.” Nathan didn’t speak with a loud voice or rudely in any way, but the look he threw at his father was part pity and part frustration. “Because somebody has to.”
“It’s not our way, son—”
“I know that. I understand, but a gut third of our families are moving because of what has happened. We…” His hand came out to encompass those in the circle as well as those who had left. “We like it here, and we don’t want to see our community torn apart, our friends scattered, because of something one man does.”
“What was your plan?” Clyde asked.
“Actually, it was Naomi’s idea.” Katie Ann smiled at the girl, and then she added, “I’m sorry I ratted on everyone. I didn’t mean to. It’s only that I was worried about you.”
The other teens shrugged as one.
“What was your idea, Naomi?” Emma thought she detected a bit of mischievousness in the girl’s smile.
“My parents live in a Plain community in Seymour, Missouri. We have all sorts of critters there—coons, nutria, snakes, of course, and then there are the wild pigs. They can cause a lot of havoc on a farm, so we’ve learned to trap them. Some people release them elsewhere, or sell them, or in some cases cook them.” Her nose wrinkled at this last option. “So I thought maybe we could set a trap for this person. Make him come to us.”
“What sort of trap?” Clyde stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle.
All five of the teens glanced at each other, reached some silent consensus, and Jesse said, “He’s a firebug, whoever this person is, and his targets have a lot of combustible material. Typical behavior for an arsonist.”
“How would you know that?” Marcus asked, clearly baffled.
Emma thought Jesse was going to admit to having one of the smartphones that were all the rage, but he stopped himself in time and simply said, “Research.”
“All right.” Clyde looked more tired by the moment, but he pushed on. “You set a trap.”
“Three,” Katie Ann murmured.
“You set three traps. Where are they? How are they supposed to work?”
Nathan cleared his throat. Apparently, he had been in charge of implementing the plan. “We put one at the far northern end of our farms, one to the south, and another to the east. Nothing to the west, since that’s where the town is, and we wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Considerate of you. What exactly are these traps?”
“A large brush pile to the north,” Jesse said.
“A bonfire pile to the east,” Silas said.
“And the demolished barn to the south.” Nathan looked almost proud but instantly became more serious when he saw the reprimand in his father’s eyes.
“How is this arsonist supposed to know about these traps? What makes you think he’d even show up?”
“Oh, we’re gut at getting word out,” Naomi said.
“If I remember right, youngies have a grapevine all their own.” Emma was thinking of her own teenage years, and how news would spread that they were meeting at a neighbor’s or sneaking into town on a certain evening. Teens not only had their own language, but a way to spread information that existed all on its own, rather like an independent telephone system.
Nathan cleared his throat. “We think whoever is doing this somehow has a way of learning about things going on in our community. He had some dealings with Vernon. He also seemed to know Henry was helping the investigator, and that Henry’s workshop was full of old lumber.”
“And you expect him to just approach one of your traps.” Clyde stood and began pacing back and forth in front of them.
“How can he resist?” Silas asked. “He likes to burn things up. This stuff is sitting there waiting, and it’s on Amish land.”
“What was your plan when and if he showed?”
“To have lookouts stationed each evening at all three of the traps,” Nathan explained. “Each person has… um… borrowed cell phones to call the police when our guy shows, and they only take four-hour shifts so they can still do their work the next day.”
“And even if they did burn up one of the traps, so what? It wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Jesse shrugged. “But the police could catch him.”
Silas jumped in to his friends’ defense. “All we have to do is intercept him in the process and then sit on him… literally… until the authorities arrive.”
“And the three spots we settled on are far enough from any homestead that no one’s home
would get damaged in the process.” Naomi smiled, as if she’d answered a teacher’s question correctly.
“Someone could get hurt, though.” Katie Ann pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I was in the newspaper fire, and I don’t want to see… couldn’t bear to see any of my friends go through the same thing.”
Nathan ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, causing it to stick out even more. “It wouldn’t be the same, though—”
“We’ve heard enough.” Marcus walked over to the office inside the barn and returned with a pad of paper and a pencil. He handed it to Jesse. “Write down the addresses where you put these traps.”
“Naomi and Jesse, we’ll take you home.” Clyde returned the crate to the area where Marcus kept his supplies.
Marcus nodded toward the house and then spoke to his son, Nathan. “You can go inside. We’ll speak more of this tomorrow.”
Marcus agreed to speak with the parents nearest him in the morning. Clyde said he would go to see Henry first thing, and they would divide up the task of notifying the rest of the families.
It was tight when they all climbed into the buggy—Emma and Clyde in the front, Silas, Katie Ann, Naomi, and Jesse in the back. Something told her the young people didn’t mind, that they were drawing solace being so close together. They were quiet, which didn’t mean anything. They could be thinking of another way to catch the arsonist now that their initial plan had been foiled. They probably had developed a sign language all their own.
If there was one thing Emma was sure of, it was that youngies had a stubborn streak wider than the Colorado sky.
Sixty-Three
Henry arrived home well past midnight.
Earlier, he’d paid Stuart at the cabin and thanked him for his time, and then he rode to the police station with Alvin and Abe in Alvin’s car. He sat through the questioning by both Meg Allen and Roy Grayson. In the end, both the investigator and sheriff agreed that the photos looked as though they had been altered with a computer program. This was after studying them with a magnifying glass and consulting with one of their technicians.
What the Bishop Saw Page 24
