Material Witness Page 10

  “So what’s the problem?”

  Matt stopped wheeling, stopped while they were still out of range of the house. His mamm would be gone already, gone to help at the quilt shop more than likely. His dat would be working near the barn, watching for them. They needed to wash up and then they could be on their way.

  “So what’s the problem?” Matt asked again.

  “There’s not a problem. Not really.” Aaron ran his hand over the wheel of his chair. He liked the way it felt. He enjoyed the warmth of it and even the way it picked up dirt from the trail.

  Matt began pushing the chair again, pushed it to their spot — a place near the top of the hill. A place where they could see nearly all the homestead but still feel hidden. Once he’d pushed the chair into the shade of the huge old tree, Matt moved around in front of him and sat on a large rock that had been there for as long as Aaron could remember.

  “I know you better than anyone, Aaron. Maybe better than you know yourself. So what is it? What haven’t you told them yet?”

  Aaron thought about keeping it in, but somebody needed to understand the danger he was up against. What if the man came back and killed him and hid his body? No one would find out what had happened.

  He should tell someone — someone he could trust.

  He should tell his bruder.

  Plus, Matt always seemed to know what to do.

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed the words out. “He saw me.”

  His bruder didn’t question him, didn’t laugh, didn’t even answer right away. Instead he looked out over their family’s farm.

  Thought on it for a good minute or two.

  “I didn’t move, didn’t make any noise, but Max was with me, and he was pretty upset. I think he smelled death. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Sure. Animals have instincts like that.”

  “He started barking like crazy, went wild like he had to scare the man away from his territory.”

  “The man looked up?”

  “Ya.”

  “And he looked at you.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “Now think about this, Aaron. Maybe he didn’t notice you were sitting in a wheelchair. Maybe he just saw a kid sitting. You were close to that bench.”

  Aaron’s mind slid back to the night before, to the way he’d wheeled the chair out so that he could see better.

  “Probably he did see the chair.”

  “All right.” Matt didn’t move, continued to think on it awhile. Finally he asked, “And you didn’t tell the officers this?”

  “No. Mamm was right there the entire time. You know how she is, barely leaving my side, as if I’m going to fall over or something. She’d have croaked of a heart attack if I’d admitted the man looked right at me after he attacked Mrs. Knepp.”

  Matt nodded. “Probably you’re right. It was gut thinking to protect our mamm. She’s got plenty enough to worry on what with all the work she does here and the quilting and boppli Hannah.”

  Some of the tightness melted out of Aaron. He’d wondered if he’d done the right thing. Though he was still plenty scared, it helped to have his bruder agree with what he’d done.

  Matt stood up and began pushing the chair again.

  “That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should go to the festival or not. Think we should talk to Dat about it?”

  “Could. If things get any worse we will. Right now, he has his hands awful full with the crops. I’d hate to bother him if we don’t have to.”

  Aaron looked over at the fields as they drew closer to the barn. His dat was a hard worker. He wondered what it would be like to be able to drive the horses the way his dat did, to be able to work in the fields and carry the bags of feed without it hurting his chest at all. The last thing he wanted to do was add to his dat’s troubles. “Maybe I should stay home, pretend I have a stomachache or something. Just until Shane is able to catch him.”

  “Nein. Him seeing you, that’s all the more reason for us to go to town, wander around the festival a while.” Matt’s voice took on a hard sound, like it did whenever one of the kids at school tried to give Aaron a hard time. Didn’t happen often anymore, but sometimes, when a new person moved in, Matt sounded that way for a day or so. Then things settled down.

  Aaron wondered if this was the same. He wondered if his bruder could handle the man who’d been outside Callie’s shop.

  “We need to go to town,” Matt repeated. “That’s exactly what we need to do. We need to find out if this guy is still hanging around, and if he is — we need to decide what we’re going to do about it.”

  Chapter 10

  CALLIE’S SHOULDERS ACHED, and though the clock said it was only just 12:32 p.m., she was sure it should be past two by now. She’d never had a day pass so slowly.

  Each time the bell over the door jingled, she jumped, expecting the horrible man on the phone to burst through, minus his giggling accomplice. For some reason, she knew she wouldn’t see the woman. The woman was a prop — like a lamp set on a stage for a play.

  The woman wouldn’t show up even if the man did.

  Customers filled every square foot of the store, but Max lay at her feet, still barely moving. Like her, he kept one eye on the door. She noticed he watched it as if he, too, expected trouble. He didn’t bother to greet anyone. Neither people he knew nor any of the strangers.

  Whatever they’d drugged her dog with, they’d measured the dosage wrong. He clearly wasn’t throwing off the effects as quickly as he should. She’d laid a hand on his side several times to check his breathing, and he seemed all right. The lethargy was not normal though, at least not according to what she’d been able to find on the Internet.

  He wouldn’t eat, and he showed little interest in his surroundings.

  She wanted to call Doc England, her vet, but apparently Creeper was watching her cell phone as well as her business line. How had he found her cell number? From a phone bill in her office? Somehow he’d stolen it. Earlier she had received a text from him — a text that had left her freaked out and paranoid.

  Contact no 1. We r watching. Find the $.

  What money was she supposed to find?

  When would they call again?

  How was she going to protect her friends?

  And then, always, like a county-fair Ferris wheel, her mind circled back to the first question — what if Max didn’t improve?

  The one thing outpacing her fear was her anger. If something didn’t change soon, she was afraid the anger would burst out of her like rain from a Texas thunderstorm.

  She was surprised Shane hadn’t been by the store. His last words to her before they’d parted earlier this morning was that he had a plan and for her to trust him. He told her he’d share it with her as soon as he had “things in place.” Now what did that mean?

  One more question to add to her bag full of questions. Not what she needed. She slammed her order pad on the counter and Lydia jumped.

  “Are you okay?” Lydia gently touched her sleeve.

  “Yes. No. I’m not sure.” She pulled the pad toward her and began doodling in the margins. “Why are all these people milling around? They should either purchase something or leave. They’re making me nervous.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

  “What? You’re looking at me like I’ve grown antennas.”

  “No. No antennae. It’s —”

  “Spit it out,” Callie growled.

  “I’ve never seen you this way,” Lydia admitted. The girl had recently turned eighteen years old, and Callie expected her to announce that she was to be married any day now. The marrying season. It would probably steal away her one good assistant. Callie pushed the worry away.

  “I’m sorry. I’m —” she bit back the truth, “— tired is all.”

  Lydia let out a breath. “Ya. Festival does that to shop owners. Maybe next week you can take off a day or two.”

  “Maybe. We are seriously crowded, and it’s not
because everyone is here to shop. Look at that old man in the corner. I think he’s been here all morning. Go and see if you can help him or shoo him out. We need to make room for customers who want to purchase something.”

  As Lydia hurried off, Callie turned to ring up a customer who had approached the register, but her thoughts returned to Shane.

  Where was he?

  It wasn’t like he could walk in flashing his badge, but she’d hoped he might find a way to check on her. Of course, he was conducting a murder investigation. Still, she thought she’d seen something in his eyes this morning, something more than concern for one of the citizens under his care.

  Or had she just been hoping to see that?

  Being stuck in this shop with all these people was driving her crazy. Some of them seemed determined to stand around drinking her coffee and tea. Why couldn’t they leave? Or, better yet, purchase something?

  She watched as Lydia made her way to the old man in the corner. Why was he even here? Old men occasionally purchased things, but if they did, it was usually a quick stop in with a supply list from their wives. This man did not appear to have a list. She tried to mentally pair him up with one of the women present, but someone stepped between them, handing her a bolt of calico and asking for three yards.

  Walking to the cutting table, she slammed the bolt of Christmas print down on the counter and jerked her scissors out of her apron pocket. “Three yards?” she practically barked at the out-of-towner standing in front of her.

  “Yes, three, please,” the woman murmured nervously. “Or two if you don’t have three left. Whatever you have is fine.”

  The woman’s eyes darted from the scissors to the material to Callie’s face and then back again. What was wrong with this lady? She acted as if she feared being attacked.

  Glancing down, Callie realized she had her fingers wrapped around the scissors the same way someone might clutch a knife. She set them on the table, wiped her hands on her apron, and smiled at the customer. “Of course you can have three yards.”

  Picking the scissors back up, Callie forced herself to relax. Just because the culprit might be watching didn’t mean she had to scare off every potential customer by acting like a maniac.

  Shane was probably right. It was probably a bluff. Who could see over this crowd anyway? And even if they could, it didn’t mean they knew what she was thinking, it didn’t mean they could hurt her.

  The bell over the door rang and she jerked up on the scissors, slicing diagonally across the middle of the fabric. Max whimpered, but he still didn’t move.

  “Is your dog all right?” the customer asked.

  “Yes.” Callie glanced down at Max. “But I’m going to have to ask Lydia to help you with this fabric.”

  After calling Lydia over to the table, Callie hurried to the front counter where Esther’s husband, Tobias, waited patiently — a smile on his face, his eyes calm and focused on her as she hurried across the room.

  “Tobias. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “Ya. Don’t usually stop by for fabric and such, but I was in town and Doc England asked me to come and pick up Max.”

  “Max?”

  “He had an opening this afternoon after all. You were wanting to update Max’s shots and have that toenail looked at?” Tobias had removed his black hat and now gripped it casually with both of his hands — big hands even for a man who was over six feet tall. He interlaced his fingers around the top of the hat, which he held upside down, almost as if he had his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee.

  Callie glanced down and saw Shane’s business card taped to the inside of Tobias’ hat. Tobias held the hat in such a way that it probably couldn’t be seen by anyone or anything else.

  Written on the card was a brief note.

  “Doc England …” Callie licked her lips and tried again. “He … he told me that he couldn’t possibly see Max until next week.”

  “Guess with folks going to the festival and all, he had some cancellations. I ran into him while I was at the feedstore, told him I could come down and pick up Max since you’d probably be too busy.”

  “Okay. Ummm. Let me go find his leash then.” Callie wiped her sweating hands on her skirt, then hurried to her office where she kept Max’s things. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, though she wanted to badly. She wanted to see if anyone was watching through the windows or maybe scoping her out through the decorative glass of her front door.

  She should try to control her paranoia.

  He was bluffing. Surely Creeper had been bluffing.

  So why was Shane being so careful? And why did he want Max?

  When she came back and clipped the leash to Max’s collar, he didn’t even stand.

  “I guess you may need to carry him.” Callie felt her throat close around tears she refused to shed. She wanted to be there, wanted to explain to Doc England herself what was wrong with her dog.

  Instead she watched Tobias bend down, pick up her sixty-five pound Labrador as if he weighed no more than a bolt of cloth, and carry him out the door. As he walked away, Tobias winked. “Don’t worry about him, Callie. Doc England’s the best vet in the county.”

  Then the bell rang again, three more customers walked in, and she was left in the store full of customers, left trying to make some sense of the words on Shane’s card.

  Give him Max.

  Talk to the old man near the window.

  Melinda was on her way into town, finally, when she passed Deborah’s buggy on the road.

  Deborah began waving wildly and pulled over to the side. Come to think of it, why was Deborah headed the wrong direction? She couldn’t be leaving town already. It wasn’t even two o’clock. Activities were in full swing. Why would she be going home?

  Melinda glanced over at the boxes of pies she was to deliver to her sister’s booth. They’d made every flavor imaginable, including Dutch apple, chocolate, and of course, shoofly. She needed to hurry before the afternoon rush hit.

  Leaning out of the buggy, she watched Deborah.

  Her friend had already turned around and started back toward her. The pies would keep for a few minutes. Clucking to Ginger, Melinda directed her own mare off the road. By the time she’d made her way out of the buggy, Deborah had pulled over as well. Usually calm, collected, and composed, Deborah practically tumbled out of the buggy, then pulled her dress up to keep from tripping and ran toward her.

  Melinda was so surprised, she stood there staring at her, not moving at all.

  “I’m so glad you stopped.” Deborah arrived breathless, her hair escaping from her kapp. “I tried to call the phone shack, but the neighbor said your buggy had already left your schweschder’s.”

  “What’s wrong? You look all —” Melinda’s hands fluttered out as she took in Deborah’s appearance.

  “Ya. I know. I’m a sight.”

  “Is Joshua all right?”

  “He’s fine. Fell asleep before we were even out of town.” Glancing left, then right, as if they might not be alone there on the side of the road, Deborah lowered her voice, then stepped even closer. “It’s Callie. She’s in trouble. Actually we all are.”

  “Trouble?”

  “The man who killed Mrs. Knepp …”

  “What? Is he back?”

  “And Melinda,” Deborah reached out and touched her arm, as if she were the one who needed supporting, “he knows about Aaron.”

  “Aaron? My Aaron?” The fear that always hid in Melinda’s heart blossomed, clawed its way up her throat.

  “I’m not saying this well. Shane can explain it better. But we need to gather everyone and meet at Reuben’s barn tonight. I already sent Esther there.”

  “You’re not making any sense.” Melinda tried to calm her heart, which had started beating triple speed at her son’s name. “Who knows about Aaron? And what sort of danger is Callie in? Maybe you should come and sit in my buggy.”

  “Nein. There’s no … no time. There ar
e other things … other things I have to do. Already it’s late. The day … it’s slipping away.”

  Melinda waited until Deborah’s words had stumbled to a stop. Taking hold of both Deborah’s arms, Melinda spoke slowly. “You didn’t answer me. What about Aaron? Tell me who knows about Aaron. Explain what you’re talking about.”

  Deborah nodded, swallowed once, and tucked some hair back into her prayer kapp. “The man who killed Mrs. Knepp, he called Callie last night, after he’d shot Max.”

  “Shot Max?” Melinda reached for the side of her buggy.

  “He’s fine. It was a … what did Shane call it? A tranquilizer. He shot it from a gun, like the men would a bullet from their hunting rifles. If she doesn’t give him the money he wants — money she knows nothing about — he’ll do something terrible. I don’t know what. And he said —” Deborah glanced away, but then looked back at Melinda, her eyes never wavering from her friend’s face and her voice resolute. “He said that he knew about the kid in the wheelchair.”

  Melinda felt the earth shift under her feet.

  “You should sit down.”

  “No. Tell me the rest.” She leaned back until her shoulders were pressed against the warmth and solidness of the buggy. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Shane wanted to put you all into hiding — you and the kinner. Callie too.” She paused, then rushed on. “But he didn’t think you’d go. He’ll ask again tonight. You need to talk to Noah.”

  “Noah!” Melinda’s hand clutched her throat. “He’s taking the boys to the festival. They might be there already. I had to stop at my schweschder’s to pick up the pies. I left Hannah with her, picked up the desserts, and I’m supposed to deliver them to the booth. What am I to do with the pies, Deborah?”

  “Give them to me. I think it’s better that I go back into town, and you go home to find Noah and the boys.”

  “But should we take the time to switch them?”

  They both peered into her buggy. Boxes of pies covered every surface.

  “If Noah passes us on the road, he’ll see us pulled over and stop. We haven’t really lost any time, and I don’t mind taking the pies back in.”