Who the Bishop Knows

by Vannetta Chapman

  Grayson hurried over to where they were standing. “You need to leave that in, Henry.”

  As he pulled off his coat, Emma pulled off her sweater.

  “We don’t have time to come up with an alternate plan here.”

  They both removed their vests, and Emma let out a heavy sigh.

  “Henry, tell me what you’re doing.”

  Henry pulled his jacket back on over his shirt. He instantly felt better, more confident.

  He turned to Sheriff Grayson, to his friend, and quoted that dearly beloved story from the Old Testament of a young man who was preparing to fight a giant. “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty—”

  “I guess that’s from the Bible, but, Henry, I need you to listen to me—”

  “David told the Philistine, ‘This day the LORD will deliver you into my hands—’”

  “You’re not going out to face a Philistine!” Sweat beaded on Grayson’s forehead, and Henry felt sorry for the man. He was doing the best he could do, what he’d been trained to do.

  “Gotte protected David. He will surely protect us.”

  “I appreciate your perspective, I really do. But this person who’s holding the girls? He’s desperate. And his bullets? They’re real.”

  “Thank you for your help, Grayson, but we won’t be wearing bulletproof vests or ear microphones.”

  “Henry, now isn’t the time to—”

  “Actually, I think now is the time.” He glanced at Officer Cunningham, who had been watching the fifteen-minute countdown. She nodded once.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said.

  Henry accepted the bag of money from Cunningham, and Emma tucked the bag with the drawings under her arm. He snagged Emma’s hand, and together they walked out into the breezeway and toward the center of the arena.

  “Felt like David suiting up in the king’s armor in there.”

  “Thought I was going to suffocate.”

  “The look on your face was priceless.”

  “We’ll be okay. Won’t we?”

  Henry stopped then, pulled Emma into his arms, and kissed her on the lips, cradling her face in his hands. Then he pressed his forehead to hers. “As with David, Emma, the Lord will be our shield.”

  Perhaps it was naive of them to think so. Bullets worked the same against believers as nonbelievers. But Henry thought somehow the tide had turned. He couldn’t imagine how, but he knew with crystal clarity that they were doing the right thing.

  He glanced back and saw the officers had stopped at a discreet distance, giving them a moment. Sheriff Grayson was simultaneously checking his watch and talking into his radio. Emma didn’t seem a bit embarrassed that Henry had kissed her in public.

  Life was short, and this could be their last chance.

  Henry was relieved that they intended to make the most of it.

  Sixty-Three

  As Henry stepped into the arena, the afternoon sun shone so brightly he couldn’t see anything on the far side, which was of course what the shooter wanted. He’d planned the details of this exchange down to the setting of the sun.

  The only sound was their feet against the dirt floor, and Henry thought he could hear his heart hammering against his chest. It was true what he’d told Emma. God was their shield. And yet perhaps their lives were complete. Only God knew. Henry prayed it wasn’t so for selfish reasons. He’d come to believe his life was just beginning, or at least this phase of it.

  Together he and Emma made it to the middle of the arena, still holding hands, ready to do whatever was necessary to return the girls to safely. Suddenly a voice came over the PA system.

  “Good job, Hen-rrry.”

  How had the killer managed that? Was he in the announcer’s booth?

  “Though you were almost late. We can’t have that. You know how important punctuality is.” He laughed as if he’d said something amusing.

  The voice was familiar, but Henry couldn’t quite place it. He glanced at Emma, who nodded once and then shrugged her shoulders slightly. She recognized the voice too, though she didn’t seem to be able to identify whose it was yet. Maybe if they could keep him talking. Henry was sure he’d heard him before, even prior to the call at the phone shack. This was definitely someone they knew.

  “Even better, you brought what I want. Now strap the bag with the drawings and the money onto the drone.”

  Henry glanced up and around, but the sun was shining in his eyes, and he saw only spots at first. Then he caught movement on the west side of the arena—light glinting off metal, and he was certain that the killer had them in his sights, had his specially equipped rifle trained on them.

  “Attach it to the drone, Henry. And hurry. I’m running out of patience.” The killer’s voice had lost all amusement. He now sounded like what he was—a hardened, cold-blooded, ruthless murderer.

  At that moment a square device flew in front of them, snapped a picture, and landed.

  It was approximately the size of a breadbox, rectangular, with four propellers affixed to the four corners. It reminded Henry of one of the helicopters he’d seen land to pick up injured folks from a car accident—only much smaller.

  “Like a child’s toy,” Emma whispered.

  Suspended from the bottom of the box was a camera, though Henry couldn’t imagine why the killer would want a picture of them.

  Attached to the top of the device were several bungee cords, and under those someone had taped a note that read, “Put money and drawings here.”

  “We want to see the girls first.”

  “Do what I said, Hen-rrry.”

  “That’s not much of a negotiation.”

  “Who said I was going to negotiate?”

  “It’s why we’re here. We give you what you want, and you give us the girls.”

  “I’m not a very patient person. Now, put the drawings and the money on top of the drone.”

  Henry couldn’t see as how they had any choice.

  Emma handed him the bag of drawings, which he placed on top of the humming device. He could feel a mild vibration when he placed his hand on top of it, reminding him of Lexi when she was longing to dash off. Next went the bag of money, and then he fastened the bungee cords over the top. He’d barely snapped the last cord into place when the drone rose in the air chest-high, whirred, and zoomed off toward the west entrance.

  “Where are the girls?” Henry asked.

  “They’re close by and they’re fine. I’m not a liar, Henry.”

  “We want to see them,” Emma said.

  Something like a sigh came over the loud speaker, but it was too dramatic. It was as if he thought they were in a novel or on an Englisch television show. As if he didn’t realize real lives were at stake.

  “It’s not for you to say, is it? You’ll do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Understand?”

  But at that moment screams broke out from the north side of the arena, somewhere in the upper deck.

  “Run!” Naomi’s voice sounded hoarse and weak and desperate.

  “He’s behind the hotel advertisement.” Henry glanced north, toward Katie Ann’s voice, and then she was screaming, “He has a rifle!”

  Henry threw himself at Emma, knocking them both to the ground and rolling with her as shots began to pepper the dirt around them.

  Someone heaved a steel barrel across the arena, and when it passed them, Henry saw an officer inside instead of a rodeo clown. The barrel came to a stop and the officer jumped out, gun at the ready, a strange sort of goggles covering his eyes. Henry had barely processed that when all of the arena lights came on, effectively blinding every person there, including whoever was shooting at them.

  Henry heard cursing and the sound of boots against metal bleachers. Police officers seemed to pour out of every direction, more officers than were on the Monte Vista police force. Grayson must have sent out a call for help from Del Norte and Alamosa.

  Em
ma struggled free from his embrace, hopped up, and began to run. At first he thought she was running away, running from the shooter, and he wanted to assure her the man had fled. But then he heard her calling out to someone, and a moment after that he saw them—Katie Ann and Naomi. He raced after Emma, and together they bounded up the bleacher steps, hearts racing and chests heaving and legs resisting the strain, but they pushed on. And then they were squatting beside the two girls, whom they loved so much.

  They were bound to the bleacher seats with duct tape wrapped around their arms and chests.

  Duct tape hung from their mouths, held their arms to the chairs, held their feet together.

  Tears poured from their eyes, and they were saying over and over again, “We knew you would come. We knew you would save us.”

  And Henry thought they had, but at that moment the killer stepped out from behind a large billboard sign fastened to the top rail. He hadn’t run away after all. He’d run toward them, determined to finish what he’d begun.

  Sixty-Four

  Emma’s love for Katie Ann and Naomi had propelled her across the arena and up into the stands. She didn’t think about the danger, or where the shooter might be, or what she would do when she reached them. She only knew she had to reach them, and so she ran, and climbed, and fell to her knees in front of the two girls. Their eyes were wide with fear, but they appeared to be unharmed.

  Both were weeping, saying they knew they’d come, but then Katie Ann emitted a strangled, “He’s going to kill us… ”

  When Emma looked up, she saw Henry had moved to stand between the girls and Lloyd.

  Lloyd Yutzy. From a good family in Goshen. Jeremiah’s friend. Someone who had worshipped with them and eaten with them. Someone she thought she knew. Only she realized she didn’t really know him at all.

  The expression on his face? Foreign.

  The glare in his eyes? Unfathomable.

  The sneer on his lips? Something she’d rather not see, more like the snarl of a dog.

  Emma glanced behind her, back down toward the center of the arena, and all around. Officers were spaced out around them—on the dirt floor, in the stands below them, from a distance to the side. Lloyd still had an escape route to the top, but where would he go from there?

  Everyone was frozen, as if Lloyd was a bomb that might go off at any moment.

  “Surprise, surprise!” Lloyd sang out. He must have somehow still been patched into the arena’s PA system, because his voice came from all around them. “It’s me.”

  Emma’s heart sank, and grief momentarily won out over her fear. She had known it was an Amish man. In the analytical part of her brain, she’d accepted that. When she and Henry had cataloged what they knew, the obvious answer had been an Amish person. But seeing this young man stand before them, dressed completely in Amish garb with some sort of special eyeglasses fitted over his head, broke her heart.

  Lloyd stopped a few feet from them, still holding his rifle at the ready. “Surprised to see me? Yeah. I can see you are. Ha-ha-ha! I knew you hadn’t figured it out… ”

  A frown replaced his unnatural grin. “Well, you hadn’t, Emma. Henry must have known, though, because he drew me. Didn’t you, Henry? And now I have the drawings.” His laughter crackled across the space between them.

  “Don’t try any funny stuff, officers.” He didn’t raise his voice. He was confident the officers could see and hear him, that he still held the upper hand. “I have my drone watching my backside, and I can see whatever it sees.”

  He tapped the headset he was wearing, a type of visor that encircled his head and enlarged his eyes. “I can watch it and you at the same time. Some technology is gut!”

  Emma cringed when he used the old language. The word sounded so disturbing coming out of this young man’s mouth.

  “We gave you what you want, Lloyd.” Henry stood up taller and moved slightly to the left so that he was completely blocking all three women from the madman’s sight. “Let Emma and the girls go.”

  “Oh, I plan to, but first we have to trade.”

  “Trade?”

  “An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth… all that.”

  “And what would you like to trade?”

  “You and Emma for Naomi and Katie Ann. You both say you love them, that you care about them, that they are an important part of your community.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “So how about it? Are you willing to take their place?”

  “Of course we are.” Emma’s voice had taken on a defiant tone.

  She was at the end of her patience. Lloyd would be wise to tread carefully. Messing with the Englisch police was one thing. Pushing an Amish grandmother to the end of her kapp strings was quite another. Both were dangerous.

  Emma stood up, though she had no idea what her next move would be. She stood beside Henry. They would present a united front to protect Naomi and Katie Ann.

  But Henry reached out, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it, and she knew what he wanted her to do. They needed to stall, to give Grayson’s men time to lock in on Lloyd’s location. She breathed a silent prayer that the boy wouldn’t be hurt. That was how she thought of him, as a boy, though plainly a man stood in front of them—an unstable man.

  “This is wrong, Lloyd, and you will reap the consequences of your disastrous decisions.” Henry probably shouldn’t bait the young man, but neither, she knew, could he stand there and fail to speak the truth. “Repent, Lloyd. Repent and turn from your ways.”

  If either she or Henry thought Lloyd would explode in anger, they were both sadly mistaken. Instead of voicing any regret, the young man burst into laughter. “If you could see how you look. Scraggly old beard, white hair—all you need is a staff and you’d look like Moses.”

  He stepped closer and thrust the end of the rifle toward them, which as they’d suspected had quite an expensive scope on it.

  “Better watch it, old man. You and your lady friend.”

  Instead of responding to his taunting, Henry asked, “How do you want to do this?”

  “Good question!” Lloyd stood with his feet slightly apart and allowed the rifle to come down slightly, and that was when Grayson and his officers burst out from both sides of the billboard.

  “Put your hands up and drop the weapon!” Grayson didn’t need a bullhorn. His voice came across loud and clear from the distance of twenty feet.

  Lloyd went to raise the weapon, but his mistake was that he looked in the direction of the voice, only for a moment, but long enough for Henry to step forward and grab the length of the rifle. Emma put her hands on it as well and together they tugged with all their might. Lloyd must have been surprised to see them fight back, but they were only taking something away from the young man, something that could hurt someone, which didn’t bother Emma’s conscience one bit.

  Lloyd might have held on still, but Emma raised her foot and brought it crashing down on top of his. He squealed like a pig caught in a trap and stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance.

  “Get on your knees and put your hands in the air.” This was followed by the sound of more officers running up the bleachers.

  Lloyd didn’t stay around to see what they wanted. He took off running, across the bleachers and then down the stands. And he had a good head start on the officers, but they were strategically spread out, and he didn’t really have a chance. They caught him when he was less than a hundred feet away.

  He must have still been patched into the PA system, because Henry and Emma could hear him clearly from where they stood. “I have my hands up! Don’t shoot!”

  “Freeze!” Grayson hollered.

  “It ain’t my fault. Don’t shoot me!”

  Grayson was closer now, holding his weapon at the ready. He nodded toward Cunningham, who also had her weapon drawn, and said, “Cuff him.”

  “You’ve made a mistake.” Lloyd was talking fast now, determined that in some bizarre twist of logic he’d be able to squirm his way out of this situation. “You have th
e wrong guy.”

  Grayson’s men had completely surrounded Lloyd. Cunningham holstered her weapon, nudged him down on his knees, pulled his arms behind his back, and cuffed him.

  “Hang on,” Lloyd said. “I have an alibi.”

  “Uh-huh.” Grayson looked at the man with a mixture of disgust and pity.

  “I can even… I can find a witness, someone who can testify.”

  “We filmed the entire thing. Not likely your word will sway a jury once they see that.” Grayson nodded to Officer Moore, who stepped forward, pulled Lloyd to his feet, and took him by the crook of the arm, leading him down the bleachers. As they walked away, Emma could hear the officer reading Lloyd his rights, explaining that anything he said would be used against him in court, and that he had the right to consult an attorney, and if he couldn’t afford one, an attorney would be provided at no cost.

  Emma realized she didn’t care about that, not really. What she did care about were the two beautiful young ladies still strapped to stadium seats.

  One of the Del Norte officers had succeeded in cutting loose the tape that held them, and both Katie Ann and Naomi flew into her arms. Emma thought it was perhaps the best thing she’d ever felt, their arms around her, being nearly overwhelmed by their love.

  “You videotaped him?” Henry asked Grayson.

  “All of our officers wear cameras now.” Grayson joined Emma and Naomi and Katie Ann. “We have a medic standing by. Can you girls walk down to the breezeway, or should I bring her up here?”

  “We’re gut,” Katie Ann said. “We can walk down.”

  “Ya, it actually feels good to move around. We’d been taped to that bleacher for hours.” Naomi started laughing then, but her laughter soon turned to sobs, and she fell back into Emma’s arms. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I didn’t… didn’t realize how he felt, and then he was… was so angry because I’d chosen Jeremiah, only I hadn’t. Not really.”

  Emma held her.

  Katie Ann stood close, her right hand on Emma, her left rubbing small circles on her best friend’s back.