Material Witness

by Vannetta Chapman

  His father’s hand had shaken when he’d reached out to hold hers.

  And Shane, at eleven years old, had wondered how God could let tragedy strike his home. He’d wanted to go outside with his bat and smash something. He’d wanted to curl up and cry.

  The officer — Officer Henry, the name popped into Shane’s mind now as the abandoned farmhouse came into sight — had explained that Shane’s sister, Rhonda, had walked in on a robbery. She’d stopped to buy some gas for her car and didn’t realize the clerk was already dead. When she’d stepped inside the convenience store, the robber had shot her point blank. He’d fled the scene, but the owners had one of those new fancy security recorders. It was all on tape. They even had the guy’s car plates. Roadblocks were up. With any luck they’d have the killer before dawn.

  Someone would need to come down and identify Rhonda.

  Shane rolled down his window, talked to the officer working security where the lane met the road.

  “It’s been real quiet.” The guy was from Fort Wayne. He looked uncomfortable sitting back in the brush, his car hidden from view. “My partner’s on the dirt road, the one behind the farm. He walked back there, like you said. No signs of any other car having been there either. This place is deserted.”

  “Good. When our killer shows up, you stay out of sight until I give the signal. Let him pass. We want Thomas as far into the property as possible before the confrontation.”

  The officer shot an uncomfortable glance over toward the high reeds. “Isn’t this the time of year for snakes?”

  “Too cool out. You’ll be fine and back in town before you know it.”

  Shane slipped the Buick in gear and moved down the lane. He wanted to be aggravated with the officer whose mind wasn’t totally on his assignment, but in truth his mind wasn’t either. He was still back in his father’s house, back in another time.

  Perhaps that had been his first case.

  The local authorities had arrested Spencer James within twenty-four hours, and they didn’t need roadblocks to do it. He was holed up at a bar on the interstate, intent on drinking his way through every cent of the money he’d stolen from Skinny’s Corner Stop. The man had been too drunk to offer much resistance — the weapon he’d used and cash-register bag he’d taken from Skinny’s was still in his truck. The same truck that was on the video camera.

  Open and shut case.

  What wasn’t open and shut was the hole left in the Black family.

  The small lunch Callie had eaten tumbled around in her stomach like fireflies captured inside a jar. She hurried to catch up with Deborah as they made their way around the corner of the barn. Levi had left bales of hay strewn about, some still on the back of the wagon, others halfway to the door. The sun was headed toward the horizon, scattering rays through the fields.

  Fields that were vacant of any movement.

  Empty fields, empty yard and home, empty barn.

  More than empty, everything in disarray. As Shane had promised, it looked as if everyone was gone. Levi and Sadie were at their children’s home for the day. Hopefully by the time they returned later this evening, the matter of Thomas would be settled.

  The unusual chaos was a reminder that they weren’t merely taking a stroll on a farm or visiting on any typical Sunday afternoon.

  “You still think we need to find the money?” Deborah asked. “Could be that he went for the trap. Maybe Shane has arrested him already.”

  “Maybe,” Callie said. “But we’re not here for Thomas. We’re here to solve the mystery of the quilts.” But worry continued to gnaw at her mind. Her instincts told her if they didn’t find what Thomas wanted, and find it quickly, someone they loved was going to be hurt today. Which made no sense. Shane was taking care of Thomas. They were solving a different mystery. Weren’t they?

  “We’ve looked around the house and the animal pens,” Deborah said. “How long do you think we should stay? We don’t even know where to look next.”

  “The money, if there is money, could be anywhere on this property. I’m fairly sure this portion of the quilt refers to the barn,” Callie whispered as she refolded the quilt. It was growing heavy in her arms. She would have liked to set it down, but there was no time.

  “The last two places had clues in the stitching. We need to look more closely. Let’s take it out into the sunlight where we can see better.” Deborah pulled her away from under the eaves of the barn, out into the late-afternoon fall light.

  Callie closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth on her face. Had this all begun less than seventy-two hours ago? How much had she slept since then? Could she drop the quilt to the ground and curl up on top of it?

  “He’s coming!” Deborah squealed, pulling Callie out of her fantasy.

  “Who?”

  “Thomas!”

  “What? Here?” Callie’s pulse thundered in her veins as she swiveled her head back and forth.

  “Yes. Be quiet, Callie.”

  They’d wandered too far from the barn’s door, so they ran behind the wagon. It still held a few bales of hay, enough to hopefully hide their presence. She was growing dizzy from holding her breath. Surely Thomas could hear her heart beating.

  He strode toward them, his rifle slung over his shoulder, a determined look on his face. He strode toward them as if he knew exactly where they’d gone, and perhaps he did. A pair of binoculars hung from his neck.

  Callie recognized them in an instant, recognized the pink leather straps holding them around his neck. They had belonged to Mrs. Knepp.

  She felt a righteous anger rising in her, an anger that burned away her exhaustion, and before she knew it she’d stood up, her head peeking above the bales of hale. Deborah jerked her back down.

  “Those are Mrs. Knepp’s binoculars. How dare he —”

  “Sshh. He’ll hear us!”

  “But he already knows where we are. He’s been watching. He’s been following us!”

  Before the matter of whether to stay hidden was settled, Levi walked out of the barn.

  “Levi’s not supposed to be here!” Callie fought to lower her voice.

  “He must have stayed with the animals. Callie, it’s not as if we’re trespassing, not exactly. But we’re going to have to explain to Levi what we’re doing. We need to talk to him about the quilts and the story they —”

  Before she could finish the sentence Levi walked between their location and Thomas, ignoring the look on his brother’s face, ignoring the rifle Thomas pulled to the front.

  When Thomas stopped and thumbed off the safety, Levi planted his feet and crossed his arms.

  “Is that how it’s going to be? You’re going to shoot me with our onkel’s rifle?”

  “I will if you stand in my way, Levi. Don’t test me.” Thomas held the rifle at the ready, but stayed where he was — Callie guessed he was about five feet from Levi, and close enough to where they were hidden that she could make out the fact that he hadn’t shaved in at least two days.

  She kept her eye pressed to the gap between two bales of hay, unable to look away, vaguely aware Deborah was clutching her arm so tightly she’d probably have a bruise there tomorrow.

  “These things you’ve done, you know they’re wrong, Thomas.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Callie could see Thomas’ finger move from the side of the stock to the trigger. “I go by T.J. now.”

  “Giving something a different name doesn’t change it. I was there the night our mamm named you. I was also there the night she died and called out for you —”

  “And were you there when they sent me away? Where were you then, big bruder?”

  “They did no such thing, and you know it. They gave you a choice, and you chose poorly.” Levi uncrossed his arms, his hands fell to his sides, and his head dropped. He looked so defeated that, for a second, Callie found herself wondering if he had suffered some sort of heart attack.

  “I won’t say it again.” Thomas practically spat the words. “
Get out of my way. I mean to have what is mine.”

  “And what is that, Thomas? A life of destruction? We all make decisions we regret. Must you make another? Come back, Thomas. Come back home, and we’ll help you through this.”

  “I have murdered two people.”

  “And I suspect you will pay for that. The Englisch laws are harsh, but the killing stops here whether you turn from it or not.”

  Thomas repositioned the rifle. “Where’s your family, Levi?”

  “With freinden. I stayed alone. Stayed hoping I could talk some sense into you. Before you wouldn’t listen, but you’re out of options now. There’s no one here but us, Thomas. No one for you to posture to. You might fool others into believing you’re someone else — no longer the boy who once helped me with the hay, helped me with a hammer and a nail, but underneath you’re the same.”

  Thomas laughed now. It was a harsh, broken sound. “Do I look like that same boy?”

  “Your clothes don’t make you different. That hunting rifle sure does not make you a different person. Come on back, Thomas. Come home. We’ll find a way to make this right. We’ll stand together.”

  “There is no we!” Thomas’ voice exploded. “And I am not the child you remember —”

  Callie thought he had been softening, that maybe there was a possibility Levi was getting through to him. She saw now that Thomas was unreachable. “Deborah, we have to get out of here.”

  “What?”

  “While they’re arguing. It’s our chance to escape.”

  There was a possibility he wouldn’t see them — if they kept the wagon between them, if they kept their heads down and moved quickly and quietly, if God cloaked them in his grace.

  “Ready?”

  Deborah nodded and laced her fingers with Callie’s. They moved as stealthily as possible, placing each foot carefully on the ground so as not to make any noise at all. They’d crept to the corner of the barn before they heard the sound of gunfire.

  Chapter 27

  AS THEY RAN, Callie tugged on Deborah’s hand, pulling her to a stop on the path between Levi’s giant barn and a stand of shade trees. “Let me catch my breath,” she whispered.

  “Ya, all right. But we can’t rest here for long.”

  They stared at each other, eyes mirroring the same fears, the same questions. Deborah was the first to put it into words. “Who fired that shot?”

  “Came from near the house. I think.” Callie sank back against a tree and closed her eyes. Though she’d left her cell phone in the car, she didn’t need it to guess the time. It had to be late afternoon. Darkness was still hours away, but she knew they needed to hurry, to do something. What were they doing here? What were they thinking? They should have stayed home like Shane had asked.

  “Maybe it was an officer.”

  “Why would an officer shoot at us? Besides, they’re all at the abandoned farm.” Callie opened her eyes and forced herself to stand up straighter. At least she knew Max and all her friends were safe. But she and Deborah were here, and they didn’t have very many options now. Two that she could think of. Hide or continue with their plan.

  “Doubt whoever it was could even see us, unless they were perched in a tree,” Callie reasoned. “Probably they were shooting at Thomas.”

  “Do you think they hit him?”

  “They didn’t.” Thomas stepped onto the path, his rifle held ready. “Drop the quilt and turn around. Both of you turn around and raise your hands up high.”

  Callie stared down at the quilt she’d forgotten she was holding, Mrs. Hochstetler’s quilt, the storybook quilt. They’d left the other two in the buggy. This one was the final story panel. They had decided the night before that this one held the answer to the location of the treasure, if there was a treasure. And she was supposed to drop it in the dirt?

  “Hearing problems, Harper?” Thomas centered the barrel of the rifle on her chest.

  She looked him in the eyes for the first time and saw a complete disconnect from the reality around them. This wasn’t a game for Thomas. It wasn’t a treasure hunt either. It was his last hope.

  Something long buried in the ground?

  That was what he was banking on?

  She didn’t even realize she’d done as he directed and raised her hands until he smiled. “Now turn around.”

  His voice was low, even, but there was no mistaking that it was a command. Boots sounded against dirt, then he was standing in front of her.

  He dropped a backpack on the ground next to her feet. “Unzip the main compartment and pull out the duct tape. Bind Deborah’s hands behind her.”

  Callie noticed a look pass between them, but Deborah didn’t speak.

  Finally, Thomas said, “I’m sorry you involved yourself in this, Deborah.”

  “Mistakes are like knives, Thomas —”

  “Would you be quoting the plain proverbs to me?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “My mistakes will serve me today. If they cut, it will be because you two did not do as you were told.”

  Callie looked to Deborah. She seemed awfully calm.

  “Tape her hands together behind her. If she says anything else, put a piece across her mouth.”

  Hands shaking, Callie did as Thomas directed. He knelt in front of the quilt, picked it up with one hand, and studied it. “Why did you bring this? I was watching you. Why were you carrying it around and looking at it?”

  When they didn’t answer, he aimed the rifle at Deborah.

  “It’s a map!” The words exploded out of Callie. “We think it’s a map your mother made. We were trying to follow it, to find the money.”

  “And where was it leading you?”

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he chambered a round.

  “To the pond!” Callie shouted the first thing that came to mind. “We were going to the pond.”

  Thomas crammed the quilt into his backpack, a grin splayed across his face. “Never know when I might need an extra blanket. I’ll just keep this now that we’re making progress. My bruder’s pond, huh? I guess you were lying to me earlier about already having the money. Now you’re finally going to give me what I came for.”

  He directed Callie with his rifle, positioned her until she was standing directly behind Deborah, then he taped them together — back to back.

  “Wait right here, ladies. I’ll be right back. Then we’ll go to the pond together.”

  Shane was growing restless sitting on the platform of the windmill. No sign of Thomas.

  Empty lane.

  Empty house.

  He’d expected the man to show a bit early.

  He pulled out his cell phone to call Captain Taylor, but before he could punch in the number the display lit up. It was a number he didn’t recognize, and he almost let it roll over to voice mail.

  Then he thought of his sister again, remembered the way Rhonda had looked that afternoon as she’d left for the mall with her friends — seventeen, long dark hair, and all her life in front of her.

  “Black,” he growled into the phone.

  “Shane?” The voice was a whisper, so small he clutched the phone against his ear. “This is Martha. Martha Yoder.”

  “Martha? What’s wrong?”

  “We’re at Levi’s place. Thomas is here.”

  Shane slung his rifle over his shoulder and began climbing down the windmill immediately, carefully, with his one free hand. “I’m on my way, Martha. Does he know you’re there?”

  “No. He went back into the barn, and we’re hidden — me and Matt and Aaron.”

  Shane’s hands were sweaty, and he nearly slipped four feet from the ground. He needed to call the captain, and he needed to keep Martha on the phone. Running toward his Buick, he was glad he had parked behind the barn. It was close to the back gate. He always kept the escape route covered, even if it was a rutted dirt lane.

  In this case, it provided a straight shot to Levi’s place, and he would thank God for that before he fell into his
bed tonight. “Tell me what you’re seeing, Martha.”

  “Matt wants to talk to you.” There was crackling on the line as the phone was passed from Martha’s hands to Matt’s.

  “He showed up in a Jeep with a backpack and a duffle he pulled out from the passenger seat.” Matt’s voice was still angry, bitter, and still reminded Shane of himself.

  “Did he go in the house?”

  “No. At first he followed them around —”

  “Followed who?” Shane started the Buick. Instead of slowing down for the old gate, he smashed through it and hooked a right. The officer who was supposed to be guarding the dirt road was nowhere to be seen. Where had he gone? “Followed who, Matt?”

  “Callie and Deborah. We would have untied them, but we were afraid we’d be caught. We didn’t think we had time. It seemed smarter to just stay in front of them, and we heard Thomas say he was headed to the pond next.”

  Shane prayed he’d misheard the kid. There was no way a case could go this wrong in such a short period of time.

  “Did you say Callie and Deborah?”

  “Ya. Hang on. Martha needs help with Aaron’s chair. I’m handing the phone to him.”

  More crackling and it sounded like someone dropped the phone. Then it was picked up again.

  “Why are Callie and Deborah there?” Shane asked as he fish-tailed out onto the two-lane road. “And what makes you think Thomas followed them?”

  Aaron’s voice was smaller, quieter. “We heard Thomas tell Levi he put a bug in Callie’s bag.”

  So that’s what Jolene was doing in Callie’s office. She had dropped a GPS tracking device in the bag filled with toys for Max, which Callie had carried to the farm. And the phone call from South Bend? Thomas could have paid any kid twenty bucks to place that last call. How had Shane underestimated this guy?

  “What’s a bug, Shane?”

  “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

  “Are you on your way?”

  Shane heard everything packed behind that question. The fear, the desire to trust, and the uncertainty of what to do next.

  “I’ll be there in …” he looked at his wristwatch, “seven minutes. Can you three stay hidden for that long?”