“Where are we going?”
“Don’t you worry about that. Follow my directions. Do what I say, and no one gets hurt.” And then he had to laugh, because they all knew that wasn’t true. The odds were that someone in this group was going to die.
Seventy-Six
Henry prayed as they drove toward the outskirts of Monte Vista and then took Highway 285 toward Alamosa. Of course that was where they were going. It was twice the size of Monte Vista, though still small at under ten thousand folks. More importantly, it was where the letter he’d seen at Vernon’s had been postmarked, as well as the blackmail photos of Alvin. There was no doubt in his mind that Douglas had been responsible for that first fire, Vernon’s death, and every fire since. The only question was why.
Henry prayed for wisdom. He prayed for their safety. He prayed for a means of escape. And he prayed for Douglas Rae’s soul.
They drove through Alamosa, past adobe buildings and new hotels. He saw a sign proclaiming Alamosa as the commercial center of the San Luis Valley and “the place to work” in south-central Colorado. Douglas told Sam to pull into the left lane after they passed an exit for Adams State University. They crossed over the Rio Grande, exited the main road, and wound through an industrial district.
“Stop here,” Douglas said.
The clock on the dash said the time was near seven, but there was still plenty of light. Enough to see the large, abandoned warehouse. Douglas directed Sam to park the car at the back of the building, near what must have once been a loading dock. He pocketed the car keys and motioned for everyone to get out of the car. As far as Henry could tell, no one saw them approach the back side of the building. The street was virtually deserted.
Someone had wound a metal chain through the two door handles and secured it with a padlock. Douglas pulled a key from his pocket and tossed it at Sam. He was still holding the gun on them. Henry didn’t think he would use it, but he wasn’t willing to take a chance that could endanger their lives.
“Put it in the lock,” Douglas told Sam. “And don’t try anything. I can shoot you before you hit me with that chain if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Sam placed the key in the lock, turned it, removed the chain, and handed the entire thing to Douglas. He motioned for them to go inside first. Sam glanced back at Henry, who gave him a short nod. They needed to escape, but not if it meant one of them would be shot. God would provide a way. He would provide a safe way.
The room was cavernous, though there was little remaining in it. Perhaps it had been a supply room of some sort, or a workroom. The only windows were set high on the wall and so grimy as to let in little light.
Douglas motioned them toward a corner at the back, where he had apparently been living. A bedroll lay on the floor, next to a box of food and large jug of water. Beside the bedroll was a laptop. There was also a stack of books that looked to be high-level math texts. And past all of that was an ironing board and iron. Where had he found those, and how had he managed to get any electricity to use the laptop and iron? But then Douglas was exceedingly bright.
Was that his problem?
Henry tried to imagine always being two steps ahead of everyone around you, even your teachers and your parents. In the right atmosphere, such a gift could be cultivated and used for wonderful things. Douglas had apparently not had a good home life. Henry didn’t remember those details, if he’d ever known them, but the man was living in an abandoned warehouse. How bad was home that you preferred such solitude?
Along the adjacent wall were gasoline cans, piles of old rags, and a box with the word FIREWORKS stamped on the side.
“Are you living here, Douglas?” Emma looked and sounded better.
Henry knew her migraine was still bothering her, as they never eased so quickly as that. But she was making a valiant attempt to cover her pain. Henry knew Emma Fisher well enough to understand that all of her energies were directed toward finding a safe escape for Katie Ann, for all of them. Now a look of concern covered her face, but Henry couldn’t imagine that it was for Douglas.
“I do.” Douglas’s expression was placid enough, until he looked at Sam and Katie Ann. “I do now, because the police have been by my mother’s place. It’s not safe there for me anymore. That’s your fault.” He glowered at Sam, who met his gaze straight on but didn’t attempt to argue with the man.
“That must be hard on you, not seeing your mother.” Emma kept her voice soft, reasonable.
Douglas stared at her a moment, and then he shrugged, all anger apparently forgotten.
“At least I don’t have to hear her hollering when I stay here. I’m able to stay clean, and”—he glanced at the ironing board—“presentable. I can wear each shirt twice if I turn it inside out. So laundry hasn’t been a problem, but I still have to press them. Wrinkles… they’re for bums.”
He laughed as if he’d said something funny. “Once I figured out how to turn the electricity back on, things improved. There’s even a shower in the employee locker room, and now I have hot water. I don’t have to pay a cent, and the city officials will never figure it out.”
He motioned for them to sit on the floor, against the wall.
He sat down, too, his back resting against a pole support situated ten feet in front of them. He was still holding the gun, and apparently in no hurry.
“What are we waiting for, Douglas?” Henry worked to keep his voice calm, steady, and nonthreatening.
“Dark.” The young man’s gaze met his and held a moment, and then he glanced away. His finger rested near the trigger of the gun—not on it, but close enough.
“You seem like an intelligent young man.”
“Do you think so?” Douglas cocked his head much like Lexi would. Fortunately, the dog remained quiet, still bundled in Henry’s jacket, still lying in Katie Ann’s arms.
“You speak well, and you seem to know what you’re doing—as far as working with fire.”
Douglas smiled slightly. It wasn’t a happy look.
“A child could follow the directions on the Internet. I’m surprised more don’t.”
“Did you ever want to be a fireman?”
Douglas glanced at Sam, a frown forming on his face.
“I wasn’t accepted.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t pass the psychological tests. I’ve never been good with those.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Any other test I could ace without half trying. But the psych ones… it’s hard to know what they want.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re not being accepted into the fire and rescue program?”
He thought the young man wouldn’t answer. He was staring at a spot on the wall above their heads, though his finger remained next to the trigger. “No. Not really. This is about righting wrongs. It’s about retribution—at any cost. It’s about a promise I made to my brother to make them pay.” He uttered the last words in a whisper, as if speaking to someone else. And then he closed his mouth and wouldn’t say another word, though Henry tried to engage him in conversation several times.
How intelligent was Douglas? Was that the issue here?
Many geniuses had trouble finding their place in the world. Albert Einstein was believed to be mentally handicapped and was eventually expelled from school. Isaac Newton failed at running the family farm. Thomas Edison was fired from his first two jobs. Henry had studied the subject when he was a teen and struggling with his own gift. It was hard to be different. Best as he could tell, that was what it came down to. He understood the pain and loneliness in that.
What he didn’t know was how to reach Douglas, how to soften his anger and assuage his hurt. He didn’t even know how to get him to put down his gun. So he did what he often did when confused—he closed his eyes and began to pray.
Seventy-Seven
Time passed slowly as they waited in the warehouse.
Henry could tell Sam’s anger was building. He clenched and unclenched his fists, sent scathing lo
oks toward Douglas, and occasionally made biting remarks that, fortunately for them, Douglas ignored.
Katie Ann looked frightened and confused.
Henry glanced at Emma. When she thought no one was paying attention to her, she put her hand to her temple and rubbed vigorously. When she saw Henry watching, she jerked her hand away and slipped it into the pocket of her apron.
Henry patted her arm and scooted over to give her a little more space on the floor.
Katie Ann sat on Emma’s far side, and Sam made up the other end of their sad little group.
Darkness began to fall. The small amount of light that had managed to penetrate through the grimy windows disappeared. For hours Douglas had sat, watching them, not moving, and not speaking. But now apparently enough time had passed. He stood and began pacing around the large room, apparently confident that they would continue to follow his orders. Henry had to squint to make out exactly what he was doing. Then lights must have come on in the parking area behind the building because weak light once again filtered through the windows.
Douglas walked over to his boxes and began to paw through his supplies. He laid the gun down on a box in front of him, and said, “Don’t try anything you’ll regret. I can pick up that gun faster than you could get off the floor, and I won’t hesitate to shoot you. They’re already after me for murder, even though Vernon Frey was the impetus for his own demise.”
“What did he do?” Henry asked, though he had a feeling he knew. The puzzle was coming together in his mind.
“He stole our farm, and then he ruined it.” Douglas’s tone was surprisingly flat, as if he were reciting something from an encyclopedia. “He bought it for thousands of dollars below the market value. What real estate agents call a disaster sale.”
“That must have been painful for you to watch.”
Douglas shrugged, a slight movement of shoulders beneath the cargo jacket. “How could my dad turn it down?”
“I suppose he couldn’t.”
“Our life was a disaster, all right.”
“Not an easy thing for a young boy to see.”
Douglas’s head jerked up. “Don’t think being sympathetic is going to help your situation. Every tragic thing that happened to my family was because of you people.”
“I’m sorry it seems that way.”
“When the factory closed, my dad lost his job. For seven years he tried to make a living off the land, but he wasn’t a farmer.”
“Farming in the valley is a difficult thing.”
“He lost the land, the house, everything. It’s no surprise he started drinking or that he left, and then he died, clutching a bottle of whiskey. Everything began to unravel the day he sold our farm.”
“And Vernon is the one who bought it.”
“Stole it is a more accurate word.”
“How old were you then?”
Douglas waved away the question. “He ruined it too. The place looks more like a dump than the dump does. Makes me sick, and it broke my mother’s heart.”
“Vernon moved into your home, and Sam refused to be your friend,” Henry said. “What did I do? Why did you burn down my workshop?”
“You testified against my brother.” The words shot across the room like arrows. “You took away the one person who cared about me, and it wasn’t even his fault. Those stupid buggies are dangerous. I told him I would make you pay. I promised, and that’s what I intend to do.”
He swiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
Glancing up at them every few seconds, he pulled out a backpack and began to fill it with supplies. Henry couldn’t see everything he put in there, but he transferred quite a few items from his fireworks box, including large firework sticks, some old rags, a couple of glass bottles, and a box of matches.
Zipping the pack shut, he hoisted it to his shoulder, picked up the gun with his right hand, and grabbed a can of gasoline with the other. “I’m locking you in here.”
“Why would you do that?” Sam had stayed silent and still through the entire conversation between Henry and Douglas. But now his patience had reached its limit. He made a move to stand, and Henry heard Douglas click off the safety on the gun.
“I wouldn’t,” Douglas said. “I’m locking you in here because I can’t trust you, and I’m not finished yet.”
“What does that even mean?” Katie Ann’s voice shook, but she didn’t look away when Douglas stepped closer.
“It means I have one more place on my list. Don’t try anything.” He stared at the girl a moment and then he moved in front of Sam and pointed the gun at his chest. “Don’t underestimate what I’m willing to do.”
“What are you doing?” Emma asked quietly.
“That’s none of your business.” He began to back up, back toward the door. “The janitor comes by here every Wednesday. You won’t die because you’re locked in here for four days, so sit tight. Otherwise, you might be surprised by a BOOM!”
He laughed and slipped out the door. Henry could hear him weave the chain back through the outer handles. There was no doubt that he attached the lock, but Henry had to be sure. He walked across the room and rattled the door. It wouldn’t open at all. So he turned back to his friends, souls God had put in his care, and said, “Time to come up with an escape plan, but first let’s pray.”
Seventy-Eight
In that moment Emma realized she loved Henry Lapp, and not only as her bishop and her brother in Christ. She loved him as she had loved George, and that came as a real surprise to her. Did it take a life-threatening situation to realize your true feelings for someone? Or was God using this terrible situation they were in to speak to her?
Henry’s calm, steady presence eased the fear in her heart and the trouble in her soul. As they stood in a circle, heads bowed, hands clasped, Emma understood that if she made it out of this mess, it was time to start living again. She’d grieved for George long enough. They’d had a good marriage together, but it was time to embrace life. “Be open to whatever or whomever Gotte brings your way.” That was one of the last things George had said to her, but she’d pushed it from her memory for four long years.
Now she realized she’d put her own dreams and needs on hold long enough. That wasn’t God’s plan for her. God’s plan was to live victoriously, fully, completely.
To do that, they had to find a way out of this warehouse.
The second Henry said, “Amen,” Sam bolted for the door. He rattled it, tried kicking it, and even stepped back and ran toward it, throwing his shoulder against it. But the lock held. Of course it held. It was made of metal. Sam was made of flesh and bone. Emma figured it helped Sam to burn off his anger. She patted his arm when he came back to stand beside her.
Henry had searched through the boxes and found a battery-operated lantern, which he set in the middle of the room and turned on. Light cast shadows across the concrete floor, giving the place an even more sinister feel.
Katie Ann had hurried back over to the dog. “She’s the same. Still breathing, but not moving much, and rarely wakes up.” She gently reached down and picked up Lexi, cradling her in the crook of her arm.
Henry was walking around the room looking up at the windows.
“Too high,” Sam said.
“I agree, but we don’t have to all get out. If we can get one person through that window, they could go for help.”
“I’ll do it,” Sam said.
But Henry was already shaking his head. “You’re too big to get through those windows, even if we could lift you up, which I doubt we could.”
“Then who—”
But Henry was already walking over to Katie Ann.
Emma’s heart lurched at the thought of her granddaughter scrambling through a window and out into the night, searching for help, alone in the Englisch world. But beneath her fear, her mind understood the wisdom of what Henry was saying. It would be worse to stay and wait for Douglas to return. And she didn’t believe that part about a custodian coming
on Wednesdays. This place hadn’t been cleaned in years.
Henry squatted down in front of Katie Ann, reached a hand out to pet Lexi, and finally raised his eyes to hers.
“Can you do this for us? Will you?”
“Ya, of course. I guess. But… what about Lexi?”
“We’ll look after her.”
“What if I can’t find anyone?”
“A town this size has a lot of people. You find the river, and cross it at the bridge. Head toward a store or police station or even the college.”
“All right. I’ll try.”
“Head toward lights.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t stop unless it’s someone you’re sure will help you. Keep your head down and keep walking.”
Katie Ann nodded, glancing once at the dog and then at Henry, Sam, and her grandmother.
“Someone will help you,” Emma said.
“And we will pray. All of us will.” Sam reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
“We will cover you in prayer, Katie Ann.” Henry’s voice was calm and confident. “Gotte will provide, ya? Do you believe that?”
“I do.” Her voice was a whisper, but she gently set Lexi on the floor, still bundled in Henry’s jacket, stood, and brushed off the back of her dress.
Emma stepped closer, put her arms around her granddaughter, and said, “I love you, child.”
“I love you too, Mammi.”
The idea had sounded like a good one, but it was a bit more difficult to find a way to boost Katie Ann up and out the window. The room contained nothing for them to stand on. They tried the ironing board, but it wobbled when Henry climbed on top of it. It certainly wouldn’t support him when he was holding Katie Ann. Sam tried to stand on one of Douglas’s boxes, but it collapsed under his weight.
“I should stand on bottom,” Sam said.
“Nein. You’re stronger than I am.”
What the Bishop Saw Page 29
