Material Witness Page 16
Chapter 16
CALLIE SAT BACK DOWN, swallowed once, and closed her eyes as she uttered a silent prayer.
Then she opened her cell phone. “Hello.”
“Took you a long time to answer.” The voice was all business tonight.
Callie’s left hand went to her throat, and she forced herself to look at Shane’s eyes, to draw strength from his strength.
“I was in bed already. I’m not feeling well.”
“I might need to see a doctor’s note on that.”
“It’s a headache is all — a bad headache. Sometimes I get … stress headaches.”
“Uh-huh. You’re not playing games are you? Because my mood is tending toward lousy.”
“No games.”
“Turn a light on.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“What light do you want me to turn on?” Callie frantically waved a hand at Shane. He texted the instructions to Perla.
“Any light. I want to see that you’re really there.”
Shane nodded that it was done.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Now are you finished giving orders?”
“Walk to the window so I can see you.”
“Walk to the window?” She tried to put sass into her voice, when in fact she needed to stall, hoping Shane was a fast texter. They’d considered putting the call on speakerphone but were afraid the killer might pick up on a background noise. It was too risky. So instead she needed to give Shane clues as to any demands he made.
“Stop repeating everything I say and do it.”
She waited. Shane nodded that he’d relayed the directions to Perla. No one in the room moved, but they all stared at one another. In the distance, one of Reuben’s horses neighed.
Apparently Creeper was satisfied with Perla’s shadow, because he moved on to interrogating Callie. “Where’s my money?” he asked.
“It’s still there. I had someone confirm it for me today, but they didn’t know what they were checking. Of course I didn’t ask them to bring it to me.”
“Why not?” he growled.
“I was surrounded by people all day, plus that’s a fair amount of money to lug around. How conspicuous do you want me to be? I don’t think you want me to bring it back here. Do you?”
She tried to slow her heart rate as she waited for him to answer.
“So how are you going to get it?”
“I’m going to wait until Sunday morning. Sundays are dead around here, especially when there isn’t church. This Sunday everyone’s off, so —”
“I know the schedule.” The voice was seething now. Callie heard the woman in the background for the first time since the call had begun. They began arguing about something, but Creeper held his hand over the receiver, and Callie couldn’t make out his words, only his tone. “Sunday morning. You don’t get a minute longer.”
Then the line went dead.
Callie set the phone on the table and stared at it.
“What is it, Callie? What did he say? You look as if he might be lurking outside the building.” Deborah reached over and squeezed her hand.
“When I told him Sunday would be better like Shane suggested — because there is no church this week — he cut me off and said he knew the schedule.” She slowly met the gaze of each person in the room. “I … I can’t describe his voice when he said it, but he was angry. More so than any other time I’ve heard him. What does that mean? Why would that upset him so much? If it’s the money he’s after …”
She shook her head, once again completely lost.
“Reuben, is the church schedule actually published anywhere?” Shane had disconnected with Perla after calling and speaking with her to make sure everything there was fine.
“No. There’s never been a need to. Everyone here knows when to meet.”
There was silence in the room, as the weight of his words sank in fully.
“So the killer is from here?” Esther asked.
Shane ticked off the possibilities on his fingers. “Either he’s from here, his lady friend is from here, or one of them currently lives here now.”
When no one said anything, Shane added, “We’re getting closer. Might make you feel worse, but trust me. It’s a good thing.”
How could it be a good thing?
Silence filled the room while they each digested the evening’s events.
As Callie helped the women gather up dishes and carry them over to the house, the children running along with their fathers in front of them, she kept wishing this could be over and done with. All of these people walking beside her in the dark were dear to her. She didn’t want to think about anything happening to a single one of them.
It made her angry and sad at the same time.
Shane tugged on her arm, and she let out a small yelp.
“Sorry,” Shane said. “I wanted to talk to you a minute before you go inside.”
She nodded and handed her casserole dishes to Deborah, then stepped to a corner of the yard with Shane. Max trotted off to nose around in the bushes. The stars were incredibly bright, as if someone had taken a jar of glitter and thrown it up into the sky. She closed her eyes, focusing on the way the evening breeze cooled her face.
Shane’s lips on hers were a complete surprise — warm, sweet, and enticing.
When Max bumped in between them, it was Shane who growled, then backed away, tracing her bottom lip with his fingertips. “Your dog and I need to have a talk.”
She laughed, something she couldn’t have imagined doing five minutes ago.
“Thanks,” she said, turning her back to him and focusing on the stars again.
“Thanks? I’m not used to kissing a woman and having her thank me.”
“Oh, but you are used to kissing women, huh? Some sort of hobby of yours?” Callie teased.
“Not what I meant.” He wrapped his arms around her, rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Well, thank you anyway. You made me forget … everything, for a minute. I needed that.” Her heart was thumping a beat like Max’s tail beside her, and she felt like a teenage girl on her first date. But she wasn’t. She was a grown woman, and she needed to tell him how much she appreciated the things he was doing for her. Sure it was his job, but he seemed to be taking a personal interest in the case.
Turning in his arms, she reached up and touched his face in the darkness. “That’s three times you know.”
“Three times?”
“Three times you’ve kissed me today. Twice in the car earlier, and just now —”
“I’ve been busy or it would have been more.” Then he lowered his head and found her lips again. This time Max didn’t interrupt them.
She’d wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him how she was feeling. Suddenly though, it was enough to stand there in the circle of his arms. And honestly she couldn’t have explained her emotions anyway. Why muck it up with words?
She allowed herself to relax and enjoy the moment. Finally she laced her fingers in his, and he walked her to the front door. Max gave her a reproachful look and one miserable little sigh before curling up on the porch. She stopped to scratch him behind the ears, plant a kiss on his head, then made her way inside. It did sort of feel like when she was in high school — except her dad wasn’t waiting up for her.
Well, perhaps not her dad, but Deborah, Esther, and Melinda were — sitting in the living room with children running in and out, preparing for bed. A knowing smile passed between them as she shut the door behind her.
Esther tried to hide her amusement when she saw the expression on Callie’s face. She focused instead on her son, who was nursing contentedly.
Deborah and Melinda made no effort to conceal their curiosity.
“Were you two talking about the case?” Deborah helped Mary with her nightgown, then shooed her into the bedroom the girls were using.
“Ya. I’m betting Shane was whispering in your ear about escape routes as you both g
azed up at the stars.” Melinda pulled out her quilting as she settled into the rocking chair near the stove in the corner. Tobias had built a small fire in it though it was barely cool enough to need one.
The crackle and pop provided more than heat — it provided comfort.
Deborah and Melinda giggled, but stopped when Callie turned and placed her hands on her hips.
“Are you saying you were spying on us?”
“Not spying exactly.” Deborah also pulled out her quilting. “I might have passed by the window once.”
“We needed to be sure you were safe, Callie.” Melinda didn’t sound ashamed of herself at all.
Esther raised Simon to her shoulder, covered him with the blanket, and rubbed his back in gentle small circles. It was something that never failed to calm her, and suddenly she could picture Callie with a child — maybe several of them. “Don’t be angry, Callie. They did the same when I first began seeing Tobias.”
“And Seth. Even when we were young we looked out for one another.” Deborah stared at the border of her quilt, frowning.
“It’s true. I’d forgotten how you would follow Seth and me outside after singings.”
“We allowed you your privacy,” Melinda said. “It’s not as if we hid in the buggy with you.”
“There was that one time,” Deborah murmured.
“Okay once. But after we were sure he could be trusted, we left you alone.”
Callie flopped onto the couch. “So you’re saying I should thank you for watching Shane kiss me.”
“He kissed you? We couldn’t see that. You were too hidden in the darkness,” Melinda said.
“Twice just now.” Callie leaned her head against the couch and tried to rest.
Esther’s heart twisted some, remembering the first kiss she’d shared with Tobias — they’d been standing in her old garden. So many of the important moments in her life had happened in her garden. “Twice is gut. If he hadn’t liked it he’d probably have stopped at once.”
She stood when Simon produced a nice burp.
“Is that how you know?” Martha waited in the doorway to the sitting room, holding Joshua’s hand.
Callie’s eyes popped open, and she met Deborah’s amused gaze.
“How you know what, dochder?” Deborah asked.
“If you’re in lieb. If you’ve found the man you’re to marry.”
Callie started coughing as if she’d choked on the very idea. It was the funniest sight Esther had seen in days. Melinda reached over and patted her on the back.
Deborah stood and gathered up Joshua in her arms. “It’s early to be talking about Callie and Shane marrying. They aren’t even courting yet. Now you’ve gone and embarrassed her.”
“Sorry, Miss Callie. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Martha stuck her bottom lip out, as if she were perturbed by the entire idea.
She walked farther into the room, and Esther saw — for a moment — Deborah as she looked over twenty years ago. With her long, dark brown hair brushed out and falling to her waist and her eyes serious and quizzical, Martha was the mirror image of her mother.
“I don’t understand boys, and I heard you laughing and talking. You make it sound like something fun, but it seems to me more like something to be endured.”
Callie drew in a deep breath and reached for Martha, slipping an arm around her waist. “I know the feeling, and sometimes I don’t understand men very well either.”
“I don’t understand boys at all.”
“Maybe they feel the same way about us, Martha,” Deborah suggested, as she turned to carry Joshua into the other room.
“Could be Mamm is right, but it doesn’t seem to bother boys nearly as much.” Martha said goodnight, then followed her mother into the children’s rooms.
After Esther put Simon in his cradle, she picked up her sewing.
“How can you girls focus on quilting when all of …” Callie’s hands waved toward the darkened windows, “this is going on.”
“Busy hands help push back the worries,” Deborah said, as she returned to the room and picked up their quilting.
“Huh?”
“Something my mamm used to say when I was fussing over boys.”
That started them all to laughing again, and Esther relaxed. Though she would rather have had Tobias inside with them, it was enough to know that he was outside, protecting their home.
“Melinda, I’m going to need to sit next to you if I’m going to restitch this border.” Esther held the quilt out in front of her. She’d never found a project to be quite this challenging before.
“Ya, I was thinking the same thing. Callie, scoot down a little so Esther can sit closer.”
“I can’t move. I may actually sleep here.”
Melinda nudged her, and she slid over with a groan, her eyes closed.
“What are you two talking about?” Deborah asked, studying her own quilt. “Why would you need to sit beside each other?”
Esther dropped her quilt into her lap, glanced at Melinda.
Melinda peered over her glasses at Deborah. “We forgot to tell you, didn’t we?”
“Tell me what?”
“Tell her what?” Suddenly Callie looked wide awake and was sitting up straighter.
“The quilts.” Esther glanced down at hers. The trip she’d made to Melinda’s seemed fuzzy now, seemed many days ago rather than merely hours. “We discovered the borders match up to form words.”
“In German.”
Deborah picked her quilt back up, ran her finger down the edge. “I thought it was some sort of design work. I hadn’t figured it out yet so I was waiting.”
“Same here. When I stopped by Melinda’s …” Esther tried to remember exactly when it was that they’d laid the quilts out on the floor.
“It was this morning.” Melinda shook her head. “Seems like last week, but it was less than twelve hours ago.”
“Wait a minute. These are the quilts you’re restoring, right?” Callie moved and knelt on the floor in front of them. “The quilts from Elizabeth Hochstetler’s estate?”
“Same quilts.” Esther now laid her quilt down in her lap, glanced at Melinda and Deborah for a clue. Callie was becoming animated, her face flushed.
“And we received these quilts, what, about two weeks ago?”
“Two and a half, if I remember right. It was midweek.” Melinda pushed up on her glasses.
Callie stood and began pacing back and forth. “Does anyone remember if Mrs. Hochstetler’s death was announced in the Gazette?”
“Yes, of course it was.” Deborah stood as well. “Callie, are you thinking Mrs. Hochstetler’s death, the man’s demand for money, and these quilts are somehow related?”
“They could be. He sees the announcement in the paper. Possibly the article mentions the estate, mentions our names and that we’ve been called to her house, and then our perpetrator shows up.”
“But there’s no money to speak of …” Esther rejected the notion. It didn’t seem possible. How could quilts cause a man to murder someone?
“There’s the account,” Melinda whispered. “I couldn’t understand why Mrs. Hochstetler set up the bank account or what its purpose was. Only Mrs. Barnwell knows that answer.”
“Callie, where are you going?” Esther’s voice rose in concern.
“To the barn, to get Shane.”
She’d reached the door before Esther called her back, disbelief filling every word. “Wait, Callie. Come back and take a closer look at these. You’re bringing Shane over here, because you think three old quilts could catch a killer?”
“I’m not sure.” She reached down, touched the stitching, traced the words Esther knew she couldn’t read because they were in German.
They were all standing now. All staring at the old German script in their hands.
Could the quilts actually hold a clue to this mess?
Could they explain what the killer was after?
Esther honestly didn’t know.
Chapter 17
MELINDA HAD AN UNREASONABLE URGE to run into the boys’ room and check on Matthew and Aaron. Which was ridiculous. She could hear them in there with Deborah’s boys. Occasionally a giggle from Joseph and Jacob slipped through the walls. The twins had always been able to see the bright side of things. She was glad they were all together tonight.
There seemed to be safety in numbers.
She heard her mother’s voice in her mind, reminding her to trust in God. It seemed a hundred times she’d gently quoted the verse, “Lean not unto thine own understanding, Melinda.”
No danger there tonight. She didn’t understand any of this …
The front door opened, and she jumped, though she knew it was Shane and Callie. Knew it before the door even opened. She’d heard their voices coming up the walk.
Why were her nerves so frayed? Because some lunatic was after her son?
Lean not unto thine own understanding.
“Callie said you think the killer’s motive might have to do with the quilts and Mrs. Hochstetler’s estate.”
“It’s another long shot,” Deborah admitted. “These are unusual quilts, and we don’t understand what they mean.”
Shane stood over two of the quilts that had been laid out on the floor. “I’ve called Trent. He’s looking up the exact wording of any articles relating to Hochstetler’s passing. He’ll send the file to my phone. In the meantime, can you tell me about the borders on the quilts?”
“They’re in German,” Esther explained. “Most quilts have a simple pattern around the entire border. I was trying to reinforce the stitching on mine, but I couldn’t understand the pattern.”
“Because there wasn’t a pattern, not an obvious one anyway.” Melinda knelt down on the floor and pointed to the area where the two quilts touched each other. It still surprised her when she looked at them. “It wasn’t until we were comparing the two side-by-side that we understood part of each border combines to create a German script. The border on Esther’s quilt is the bottom half —”