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  Mrs. Lapp seemed incoherent as her breathing evened out and her weeping turned into a stream of silent tears.

  Another minute passed before Mr. Lapp reached over and put Callie’s hand on top of his wife’s. “Stay with her. No matter what happens or what you hear, promise me you’ll stay with my wife.”

  “You don’t have to go out there. Shane is trained to handle these situations.”

  “But I know Samuel. I understand better than anyone the burdens that are troubling his heart and clouding his judgment.”

  Callie tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “It might be dangerous.”

  “Ya, I know. Life is dangerous at times. My Katie found that out. But I need to talk to the boy.” Timothy kissed his wife on the forehead so gently it reminded Callie of the way Ira had placed his hand on top of Faith’s head.

  It reminded her of Melinda holding Hannah.

  Her heart ached with how much tenderness and pain life held.

  Timothy Lapp stood, adjusted his suspenders, and muttered as he walked out the door, “One death is enough. Whatever this is — it stops today.”

  And then he was gone, leaving Callie on the floor with Rachel and her fears.

  Chapter 36

  DEBORAH RAN FIRST TO THE HOUSE, ran to check on Faith.

  “We’re fine. What’s going on out there?” Five heads popped out from behind Faith, all girls. Best as Deborah could tell, they varied in age from three to twelve — all equally young and vulnerable.

  “Can we talk alone?”

  “Ya.”

  Faith convinced the girls to fetch paper and crayons to distract them.

  After Deborah explained what had happened and what she’d heard, Faith glanced back into the room where the girls were sitting at the table. “I’ll stay with them. You’re sure their mamm’s all right?”

  “She seemed better when I left. Callie’s still with her, and Shane was to have called the emergency medical people. I don’t know whether he reached Callie’s phone though.”

  “I never heard or saw him.” Faith peered past her, through the pouring rain, at the two cars parked between the house and the barn.

  It occurred to Deborah there might as well be a giant red X painted on the top of the automobile, and suddenly she was grateful it was a car and not her buggy hitched to her mare, Cinnamon. At least this way, if the boy started shooting, he’d only hurt a machine.

  “Callie’s purse is sitting on the front seat. I could run and — “

  “No!” Deborah reached out an arm to stop her as Faith stepped forward. “I know I heard a gunshot, but I don’t know what direction it came from or who was doing the shooting.”

  Faith stepped back, sighed, and worried her hand over the front of her dress. “I was hoping that was thunder, but it sounded to me as if it came from the direction of the silos.”

  “I’m going over there now to make sure Shane wasn’t hurt.”

  “You? Why you? Shouldn’t you stay here with me?”

  Deborah shook her head. “One of us should go, and you’ve done enough already — bringing us out here. Stay with the kinner. I’ll be careful.” She hugged her new friend once, then turned and fled back out into the storm.

  Deborah spied Shane crouched down behind a feeding trough. His back to the barn, the roof overhang provided a little protection, but she could see even as she ran toward him how thoroughly soaked and miserable he was.

  His shirt was plastered to his shoulders, and his hair, which he wore a bit on the long side, stuck to his forehead and neck. Water dripped down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. Instead his eyes stayed trained in front of him, barely flicking her direction.

  She could also see the gun he had pulled out and rested against the top of the trough.

  “Go back inside, Deborah.” Shane still didn’t bother to look at her, as she crouched beside him. Instead he continued to scan the tops of the buildings surrounding the barn — the house, the silos, the outbuildings, even the trees.

  “No.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” He briefly turned toward her, his eyes searching hers. “Think of what Jonas would want you to do.”

  “He’d want me to help that boy.”

  “That boy is shooting at us.”

  “Amish use hunting rifles, perhaps fitted with a long-range scope for deer hunting. You’d already be dead if he wanted to hit you, Shane.”

  Shane shook his head once, sending water droplets in every direction, then he turned back to scanning the buildings. “I realize that, but he’s already made several mistakes, and I don’t want you — or myself — to be the next one. Now go back inside and stay beneath the roof overhang as you go.”

  “Why do you think he shot at us?”

  “He saw me heading toward the cars. Spooked him I guess. Kids — they react more than they think, which is why I hate calls involving teenagers. Give me anything else, but don’t give me a teenager with a weapon.”

  “If he’s guilty of something, why didn’t he just run?” Deborah shivered as water splattered down her back and thunder rolled across the skies. “Why fire the weapon and give away that he’s still here?”

  “Same reason he’s shooting at an officer. Same reason he’d lie about talking to a girl who has been dead for two weeks. There is no explaining what a teen backed into a corner will do.”

  Deborah didn’t bother answering that. She didn’t have an answer any more than Shane did.

  “You’re going to catch pneumonia, and Jonas is going to kick my Englisch backside all the way into the next county. Now I appreciate the conversation, and thanks for checking on me, but I want you to go inside and get dry — “

  At that moment the door to the barn opened once again and Timothy Lapp stepped outside. He didn’t pause for the rain, didn’t act as if he noticed it.

  Instead he walked out into the middle of the clearing, his shoulders bowed as if he were carrying a weight heavier than five sacks of feed. When he reached the middle, he turned back toward the barn area, straightened his shoulders, and cupped his hands around his mouth, making a megaphone of sorts.

  “Samuel, I want you to come inside. Come back, son.”

  Deborah wondered at the use of the last word. It was the last piece of the puzzle that clicked into place for her.

  Timothy considered Samuel his son, the boy he’d never had.

  The look on the boy’s face when he stormed into Timothy’s office suddenly made sense — it was the look of agony wrapped in guilt.

  It was the look of a child who’d taken away the most precious thing a father has: his dochder.

  “Samuel killed her.” Deborah grabbed Shane’s arm, digging her short nails into the skin beneath his shirt.

  “Deborah, we’ve been through this. I don’t know what’s going on with the boy, but I do know all the evidence points to Reuben’s guilt. I don’t want to believe it any more than you do.”

  “No. You don’t. And maybe the evidence doesn’t prove what you think it does. All you know is that Reuben knew Katie.”

  “He cleaned up the blood in the house. He hid the rags.”

  Deborah hesitated, not having heard this part before, then pushed on. “You know that Reuben spoke with her and she stayed in his old house for a few days. You don’t know that he killed her. I’m telling you, Reuben couldn’t kill anyone.”

  “Deborah …” Shane finally wiped at the rain running down his face, careful to hold his gun steady with his other hand.

  “Look at Timothy and stop staring at me that way. Timothy knows it too. Samuel did it.”

  “You haven’t seen all our evidence, Deborah.”

  “And I don’t need to.”

  “Evidence doesn’t lie.” Though his voice wavered, he continued to scan the barn’s rooftop.

  “All right. It doesn’t lie, but perhaps he’s only guilty of something else.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t considered that. He could be covering for the
boy. Could be covering for someone other than the boy. But as long as the evidence we have points to Reuben, then Reuben stands trial.”

  “And Samuel?”

  “Samuel’s coming in as well. Samuel’s going to explain what’s going on.”

  Samuel looked down from his perch near the top of the barn. He looked down and thought that he would fall, though not from the height. He’d been walking Timothy’s barns and silos for over a year.

  No, the reason Samuel was sure he’d slip and fall was because of the scene below him.

  When Katie had first died, when he’d first killed her — time to admit to what had happened — he’d thought he could make it up to Timothy and Rachel. He’d come back, created the story of Katie going to the city, even lied about the phone call, because he couldn’t bear the pain in their eyes, and then he’d worked harder than he’d ever worked in his life.

  Samuel had set out to be the son that Timothy never had.

  Looking down at Katie’s father now, he knew it would never be enough. The man standing in the middle of the clearing was broken.

  Timothy could never forgive him for what had happened.

  So how could Samuel end this?

  Scanning left, he looked over at the Englisch cop and Amish woman. He nearly rolled his eyes. They looked like two ducks in a barrel at the county fair. Shooting them would be easy.

  But then he’d have two more deaths to answer for when he faced God, and Samuel knew he would face God — perhaps sooner rather than later.

  So what were his options?

  The photos of Katie played through his mind, making it hard to think clearly. She hadn’t looked like that when he’d carried her to the flowers she’d loved so much, intending to leave her there, but even that last act of love hadn’t gone as he’d intended. The blood from her head wound had soaked through the quilt, soaked on to his sleeve and he’d set her down, suddenly frightened by her still form. Then he couldn’t force himself to pick her up again.

  A big strong man — afraid of a dead girl. Afraid of his wife.

  So he’d dragged her on the quilt, dragged her the final distance through the flowers.

  And when he’d reached the banks of the pond, it had occurred to him that perhaps she wouldn’t rest there, perhaps some wild animals would come and find her. So he’d cried — sat and wept like a little child — before rolling her into the water and praying that at least there she would be safe until someone found her.

  She had still looked like his Katie then, floating face down in the early morning sun.

  He’d gathered the quilt and run into the woods, hoping Reuben would find the body and think of a way to give her a proper burial. He couldn’t stay and do it. If he’d stayed, Reuben would have to hide him or turn him in, and Reuben didn’t deserve that type of trouble.

  He hid knowing no one would ever suspect Reuben. He was a well-respected man in the Shipshewana community — Samuel had been able to tell that from his short time there. Plus Reuben had never so much as touched Katie. The Englisch police would simply meet a dead end and let things be. The responsible thing for Samuel to do was go back to Timothy and Rachel. He had to find a way to make things right for their family.

  But nothing had worked out the way it was supposed to.

  His hand began to shake on the rifle’s stock, and he gripped it more firmly. Wouldn’t do to drop it. Not now.

  He could make his way down, and he could run.

  Samuel knew he could disappear into the Englisch world.

  But suddenly he was tired, too tired.

  “Samuel, whatever happened we can talk about it. Come back inside.” Even across the distance between them, Samuel could make out the tears mixing with rain streaming down Timothy’s face.

  He’d caused this family enough pain.

  He shifted the rifle to his back, adjusted the strap, then began to make his way down and toward the ladder of the tallest silo. Once there, he began to climb.

  Chapter 37

  CALLIE HELPED RACHEL LAPP struggle to a sitting position again.

  “I think you should probably stay seated awhile longer, Mrs. Lapp. Deborah and Shane will see to any problem that’s outside. And your husband. Don’t forget he’s out there as well — surely he will know what to do. You need to take care of yourself.”

  “I’ve had these dizzy spells for a year now. I suppose I know when they’ve passed. And you can call me Rachel. When people stumble through the valley of death together, they’re on a firstname basis.” Rachel adjusted her kapp as Callie tucked the blanket around her, then the older woman pulled her legs up under her dress in a more comfortable position.

  Though she had to be in her late forties, she looked younger when she crossed her legs, as if she might be ready to plop a storybook or a child in her lap.

  “How serious is the dizziness?”

  “Not too serious. It always passes after a few moments.” Her gaze slipped toward the folder still waiting on the table, the Bible holding it firmly in place. Rachel’s eyes shimmered with tears, and her right hand went to her lips.

  “Are you okay? Are you feeling light-headed again?”

  “No, no. I’m all right. It’s my soul that’s grieving … grieving over the loss of my dochder.” Rachel closed her eyes and began to rock gently.

  “So you’re sure it was her?” Callie clasped Rachel’s other hand. It felt icy cold and she worried anew about the woman’s medical condition. Where was Shane with that phone? Where were the emergency medical personnel?

  “Ya. There’s no mistaking your own flesh and blood. It’s Katie, though I can’t imagine what could have happened.” Opening her eyes, Rachel peered at Callie through the tears that slipped past her lashes and down her weathered cheeks. “What town did you say you were from?”

  “Shipshewana.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Can’t say as I know anyone in particular from that area. ‘Course Timothy might. He does business with folks from all over, but I don’t know what Katie would have been doing there. I can’t — “

  She put her hands down on the floor, pushed, and made an awkward attempt to stand.

  “You probably shouldn’t be up and about yet.”

  “But I need to know, and I don’t understand.” Rachel rocked herself forward onto her hands and knees, managed to grab hold of the table and pull herself up.

  “Patients who’ve fainted should rest for at least one hour.” Callie searched her mind to remember what she’d been taught in the CPR class. “Especially if the patient lost consciousness for more than one minute, which you did.”

  Rachel turned on her with the fury of the rain beating against the barn. “I’m not a patient. I’m a mamm, and I’ll be finding out what happened to my Katie.”

  Her voice gained strength as she straightened her dress and wagged a finger in Callie’s direction. “I believe the person who knows what happened is out in that storm. Now you can help me go out there, or you can stay in here spouting nonsense.”

  Callie blinked once, then hurried through the office door to catch up with Rachel before she stepped out into the storm.

  She’d begun praying again since moving to Shipshewana, though she couldn’t have pinpointed the exact moment it had happened. Perhaps it had been when she’d found herself alone with only Max for company. Or maybe it’d been when she’d discovered the editor’s dead body in the newspaper’s office. Definitely she was well into the habit by the time she, Deborah, Trent, and Andrew had faced death at the hands of a mafia thug.

  Regardless of when she had first turned back toward God, Callie found herself calling on him now.

  That he would calm the storm raging outside, that he would ease the pain in this family’s hearts, and that he would find a way to bring Reuben home.

  Shane pushed Deborah flat against the feeding trough when the boy turned and stared at them. “He saw us. Don’t move.”

  “He has a rifle, ya? That’s what we heard?” Deborah peeked over
the top of the trough, but Shane pushed her head back down before she could see anything through the rain.

  “Yes, he’s carrying a rifle, and he could have taken out either one of us if he’d had a mind to. Are you happy? What is it about a woman that loves to be right?”

  “I don’t love to be right, Shane. It’s more the pieces of a puzzle coming together, exactly like the pattern of a — “

  “Stay here. Don’t move unless I manage to draw him to the other side of the silo. If that happens I want you to run to the house and stay inside with Faith and the children until I tell you to come out. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but — “

  “Deborah, look at me.” Shane put his hand to her shoulder, his face close, and she saw more than the usual intensity in his eyes, she saw the concern and something that approached fear. “You give me a man with a gun and nine times out of ten I can tell you what he’s going to do, but a teenager is a different thing altogether. Teens don’t know their own minds or emotions yet. They’re volatile. You do what I say.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he began to run along the side of the barn, his pistol held tight to his chest.

  Deborah watched him until he turned the corner, until he was out of sight. Timothy still stood in the middle of the yard, calling out to Samuel, though the severity of the storm had increased and it was hard for her to make out what he was saying. But that wasn’t what made her completely disregard Shane’s instructions.

  Looking toward the front of the barn, she saw the door open and saw Callie and Mrs. Lapp step outside.

  She watched as Katie’s mom hesitated, then ran through the rain to her husband, nearly collapsing in his arms.

  Callie followed, standing beside them and glancing occasionally around, as if aware that they were perfect targets for an angry young man with a rifle in his hands.

  So Deborah stood and ran toward them as well, but her foot slipped in the mud, and she fell hard against the rain barrel, tearing the corner of her sleeve and opening a small gash in her arm. The bleeding wasn’t bad that she could see. She stood again and moved quickly toward the group, using more caution this time.