A Perfect Square (20 page)

Abigail had also shared that she’d been asked to look at the pictures, to try to identify the body, and she couldn’t. How could Reuben possibly love a girl he didn’t know? It didn’t seem possible.

Which left two reasons for her to investigate.

No doubt Shane had already talked with these people, but had he asked the right questions? It frustrated Deborah sometimes how closed the Amish community could be. She understood why, knew that they were trying to “circle their wagons.” She’d heard that expression from Callie, and it seemed like a good description. The idea of old covered wagons, pulled up in a circle to draw protection and comfort from one another made Deborah smile as she placed a sleeping Joshua in the backseat of her buggy.

“Have everything you need?” Jonas asked.

“I do.”

He didn’t mention last night, only leaned in and kissed her once, then walked off whistling. It was enough to let her know all was well.

And all would be well in their community also, in spite of their circled wagons. Sometimes though, they needed to let someone else in, between the wagons, someone who could help them. In this case, it seemed that person could be Shane Black. Was Shane their friend or their enemy in this instance? His dedication to his job could prove Reuben’s innocence, but it could also
convict him. Those two thoughts felt like a paradox in her head, but she realized they were both true. Shane would do his job — no matter what it meant, no matter who went to jail. But it was his dedication to his job that would lead to Reuben’s freedom. She trusted that as surely as she trusted that Cinnamon would see her safely down the road.

Her first stop was at the bank.

Deborah and Jonas didn’t do a lot of business there, since they tended to pay cash for most things. But she had been depositing the money from her quilt sales into an account, hoping she could build up enough to buy Jonas another workhorse. He never complained, but Deborah knew it would allow him to plant more crops in the spring if he had another. Planting more would mean more harvest — given good rain and a decent growing season.

The small account of quilt earnings had continued to increase.

She helped Joshua out of the buggy, setting the black hat usually reserved for Sundays firmly on his head. Then she reached into the buggy and pulled out a baby quilt she’d finished last summer.

There was a queue in the lobby. She waited in the line so she could talk to one of the tellers and tell them what she needed. When she reached the front of the line, the teller asked her to have a seat until her name was called. After she was seated, she allowed Joshua to walk around the room. Hopefully by allowing him to walk now, he’d use up his energy before they went behind the half wall where Mrs. Barnwell sat.

Mrs. Barnwell.

She was tough, but she understood Amish ways. In fact, she was sort of a bridge between the banking world and the Amish community.

“Deborah?” If anything, Mrs. Barnwell’s gray hair was shorter than the last time Deborah had seen her. She peered at Deborah and Joshua over her reading glasses, then lowered them to her starched white blouse. A thin, small woman, she reminded
Deborah of the winter finches she’d had on her windowsill this morning. “Would you like to come back now?”

After they’d settled into chairs, Mrs. Barnwell repositioned her glasses and folded her hands. “What can I do for you today?”

“I was wondering if you could check my balance. I know the teller girls can do that, but we had discussed last time whether it would be best to leave the money where it is or put it into a certificate of deposit.”

“And you were thinking you might need the money in the spring?”

“Possibly, yes.”

Mrs. Barnwell wrote down her balance on a small square of paper and handed it across the desk to Deborah. “The rate of return is somewhat low for under ninety days. If you were able to leave it in for six months it’s a little higher, but then the funds wouldn’t be available until May.”

“I see.” Deborah’s mind searched for a way to prolong the conversation. “Do you have anything in writing I could take home, perhaps to show to Jonas?”

“Absolutely.” Mrs. Barnwell reached into her drawer and pulled out a pamphlet. “This lists the term for each CD and the amount of deposit required.”

“
Danki
,” Deborah said. Then she spotted the photograph on the bookshelf and remembered the quilt she was holding. “I had heard about your new grandbaby, and I wanted to bring this by.”

“Deborah, you shouldn’t have. I can’t accept this.”

“I always have extra quilts sewn up, which I enjoy giving as gifts.” Deborah was determined to be truthful about this. “You’ve always been helpful to Jonas and me. I want you to have it for the
boppli.
”

“Well, thank you. It’s quite beautiful.” Mrs. Barnwell’s expression softened as she reached for the quilt. “You do exceptional work. I hope you know that.”

“The Lord gives each of us a talent,” Deborah said gently. “Yours is with numbers. Mine is with fabric.”

“I suppose. There are days I wish I’d chosen something a bit more personal though — something like yours.” Mrs. Barnwell stood and opened a cabinet. Deborah caught a glimpse of her coat and purse. She tucked the quilt inside. “Well, thank you so much for stopping by. If you have any questions about those CDs after you speak with Jonas, let me know.”

“Actually I do have one more question.”

Mrs. Barnwell had already started around her desk, on her way to walk Deborah out. Now she stopped, one hand touching her in-box tray. “Oh. Absolutely. What is it?”

“Perhaps you know that Esther Zook is like a
schweschder
to me. She and Melinda and I sew the quilts that are offered for sale in Daisy’s Quilt Shop.” Deborah reached over and picked up Joshua, who had been looking contentedly through a picture book. Suddenly she felt the need to hold him in her arms. “Esther is to be married to Tobias this week, and Tobias is — “

“Reuben’s cousin. Yes, I know. I’m sorry to hear about his current situation. What that family’s going through is a shame.”

Deborah strained to hear any other meaning behind Mrs. Barnwell’s words, but if there was anything else there, it eluded her. “I’ve been close to Reuben for years. His farm is near ours. Is it possible, what I mean is …”

She felt the heat crawl up her neck, even as Joshua turned in her lap and pushed his fingers into her mouth. She kissed him once and continued. “Is it possible that he was having any kind of financial difficulties?”

Mrs. Barnwell didn’t answer right away. She sat down in the chair Joshua had been in, took off her glasses, and wiped them clean with the hem of her blouse. Putting them back on, she finally looked at Deborah. “I can’t discuss another customer’s finances with you. That’s against regulations.”

“I see. Of course, I understand.”

She stood and made her way to the doorway of the cubicle. Mrs. Barnwell walked back around behind her desk.

“Deborah.”

“
Ya
?” Deborah turned around. Mrs. Barnwell was flipping through a stack of envelopes on her desk.

“I have had this statement here for Tobias and Reuben for some time. They asked me to hold their quarterly statements rather than mail them. Heaven knows why. Since you see Tobias fairly often, could you let him know that it’s ready? I thought one of them might stop by, but I haven’t seen either one since September.”

“
Ya
. Sure. I’d be happy to.”

Deborah set Joshua on the ground, took his hand in hers, and walked him out to the buggy.

Mrs. Barnwell had found a way to tell her what she needed to know. Reuben had been nowhere near the bank in over six weeks, which meant he wasn’t in financial straits. After she placed Joshua into the buggy, she took out her list and marked off the first item.

She looked longingly down the road at the quilt shop, but her last errand was in the opposite direction.

So she murmured to Cinnamon and set off to find Bishop Elam.

S
AMUEL ACCEPTED THE LUNCH
from Katie’s mother. “
Danki.
”

She nodded once and turned back to helping the younger children. He hadn’t seen her cry since two days ago, since the afternoon they’d returned from church to find him sitting on the front porch. He’d told the story exactly like he’d rehearsed. How he’d gone after Katie, begged her to come back with him, but she’d refused.

Timothy had said nothing. He’d listened then walked off toward the barn.

Rachel, his wife, had sat down on the porch and wept. That moment had been the hardest. He’d wanted to confess then and there, wanted to tell how she had looked as she’d died. But if he’d done that, what would they have been left with? No hope.

No help in the fields. Nothing.

So instead, he’d told the story exactly like he’d rehearsed.

Since Sunday they’d all gone through the same routines they’d gone through any of the days before he’d left, before he’d convinced Katie to trust him, before she’d become his wife.

There was a difference though.

He worked harder now. Didn’t stop for breaks when Rachel
brought out something to drink. Didn’t stop until it was too dark to see. And mornings he was up and working before Timothy was out of bed.

It wasn’t much. He knew it wasn’t enough, but he’d do what he could to atone for his sins.

He’d do it until he dropped from the weight of his guilt.

Now, pushing away from the lunch he hadn’t eaten, he returned to the stack of wood that needed splitting. Raising the axe, he brought it down in one smooth motion, feeling some satisfaction as the blade met the log, as his muscles ached from the work he’d done since before sunrise.

He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the last week of her life continued to play, like an
Englisch
picture show caught in a loop, never ceasing, even in his sleep …

“Why didn’t we stop in town?” Katie asked as Samuel waved his thanks to the man who had given them a ride from LaGrange.

“Could have, but it would have just meant extra walking. I believe we can stay here. “

“You know these people?” Katie peered down the lane, past the pond to the old farmhouse. “Fields look tended, but the house appears deserted.”

“That’s because the two cousins who live here stay in the barn. “

“Are you playing with me, Samuel?”

“I’m not. They like the barn, say it’s simpler, and it’s fixed up real nice. “

Katie’s worried expression began to ease as they walked down the lane. With the October sun shining on them, the idea that they might have a place to stay was obviously easing her anxiety. He sometimes forgot how hard this must be on her, leaving not just her family but her things behind.

All they brought from home, they carried.

He had the backpack slung over his shoulder, and she had the small duffel bag of her things.

“So no one lives in the house?”

“No. Looked at it pretty close last time I was here. Reuben, the older cousin, offered to help me out if I ever wanted to go into the woodworking business. He showed me some of the cabinetry done in the house, and it’s practically art. His grossdaddi did it all himself.”

“How did you meet him? Reuben, I mean.”

“My mamm knew him. A long time ago. When I told her I was moving here, she gave me his name. One week I was in Shipshe delivering an order for your dat, so I looked him up.”

Samuel thought of his own dat and how he’d died in the prime of his life. Thought of the man his mother had recently married, how cold and distant he was. Then he thought of Reuben.

Samuel didn’t need anyone telling him what to do, but he could use a place to stay for a day or two. “I came out and shared a meal with them. Seems Reuben knew my mamm and grossdaddi very well. He’s a big fellow, but kind.”

Katie stopped, staring toward the small pond.

“What is it?”

“The flowers, Samuel. Look at them.”

“I see them.” He laughed when she continued to stare at them. “Women and flowers. How is it that you’re taken with such things?”

“The black-eyed Susans are nearly three feet tall. It looks as if they’re stirring the goldenrods.” Katie smiled up at him, the blue of the sky reflected in her eyes, causing his heart to beat a double rhythm. Would he ever grow used to the touch of her hand in his, the way she had of making him feel like he was capable of accomplishing anything, the adoration in her eyes?

“Want to take a closer peek?”

“Shouldn’t we go and see your freind first?”

“He won’t mind. Look, there’s a path that leads around the edge. I’ll bet they use it for fishing.” He tugged her hand and pulled her toward the small pond, and it seemed in that moment, as October slipped toward November, that the world belonged to them.

They laughed and played beside the pond, almost as if they were children — even daring to dip their feet into its cold waters.

He didn’t notice until they were drying off that the small phone he’d bought in Goshen had rung. The symbol indicating he had a message flashed red.

“Who was it?” Katie asked anxiously as he listened to the message.

“Don’t worry so. It’s a gut thing. The job in the factory is open. I’ll call him back in a minute. First let’s go and see Reuben.”

Samuel had leaned forward and kissed her then, the sun shining on them as they sat among the flowers surrounding the edge of the pond.

Everything was turning out exactly like he’d hoped.

C
ALLIE GLARED AT
S
HANE
B
LACK,
anger surging through her veins. Suddenly she remembered bits and pieces of her dream from the night before, and she wanted to pick the phone up off the desk — where it sat between them — and chuck it at him. If she hit him hard enough, perhaps it would wipe that smirk off his face.

“Shane. Play nice,” Adalyn was saying. “Perhaps Callie and Deborah should have brought it in as soon as they found it — “

“Perhaps? Perhaps?” His voice grew louder each time he repeated the word, as if that would make him more convincing. “Come on, Adalyn. A teen who watches
Monk
on television would know that this phone is evidence and needed to be turned in the minute it was found.” He punched in the passcode.

“Not necessarily, and stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Callie slapped her hand against his desk. A sheaf of papers on the corner slid off to the floor. Honestly, you’d think the man would be more organized. “As I explained to Adalyn earlier, at first we thought the phone might belong to Tobias, and then it wouldn’t be evidence.”

Shane collapsed into his chair causing it to squeak. He drilled her with his stare. “Tobias?”

She refused to squirm under those dark eyes. “It’s possible. Some Amish folk do have phones for business purposes.”

“All right.” A smile played on Shane’s lips, and Callie had the uncomfortable sensation that he was thinking about a fish snagged on a line. She was the fish. “So you find the coat, search it for identification, find the phone, think it might belong to Tobias. What happens then, Callie? You went out to his place and asked him? Or did you go to the feed store?”

Instead of answering his question, she tried to remember what her rights were. She hadn’t been sworn in or anything. Not that she intended to lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell the truth.

Fortunately, she was rescued by her lawyer. “Look, Shane. You have the phone. What else do you need from my client?”

“I’d like to follow the evidence trail. Where else has it been since it left Reuben’s pocket?”

She and Adalyn had been over this scenario. After she went to Adalyn’s office and learned that Adalyn never received her message — it had been buried under a heap of mail — they’d discussed what she did and did not have to say.

She did not have to offer information.

She did have to answer direct questions.

“I took it to Trent.”

“McCallister?” Shane boomed.

Was he in danger of having a heart attack? His face was actually red and sweat was beading on his forehead. He’d been so calm during the Stakehorn case. What was with him today?

“Why would you take evidence to our town newspaper?”

“I didn’t know who it belonged to, and I couldn’t get past the passcode. I thought he might be able to help me.”

Now the smirk was back. Maybe it was better than the yelling, but Callie wasn’t sure. “Friends, huh? And was your friend able to help you?”

As he questioned her, she went through the entire last few
days — how she’d been stumped by the passcode, how Trent had listened to the phone message, how he was able to trace the SIM card registration number and the origin of the call. She left out the part about the fight with Trent outside her shop.

Shane’s face grew redder with each detail, but there were no more explosions. Finally Adalyn picked up her black Louis Vuitton bag and touched Callie’s arm. “I trust you’re satisfied we’ve done everything possible to rectify this matter.”

“You trust I’m satisfied?” Shane shot back.

“Did your coffeemaker explode today, Black? Maybe your dog chewed up your remote last night? Or did that clunker you drive around refuse to start?” This time it was Callie doing the talking, and Adalyn was quiet.

“What’s your point, sweetheart?”

“My point is that I thought you’d be happy I brought you a piece of evidence you weren’t able to uncover yourself.”

“Versus hiding it from me?” Shane stepped closer, close enough that Callie could smell the starch from his shirt, along with the light scent of his aftershave. Callie felt a current running between them, an actual electrical charge, and it scared the boots off her. His smell brought back images of the black diamond ski slope, him grabbing her arm as she was about to fall, the urgency in his eyes, and how she’d followed him into the woods, to safety.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to reconcile what she’d experienced in her dream — because she had experienced it — with the flesh and blood man standing in front of her. Her pulse accelerated and sweat gathered in her palms. When she blinked her eyes open, Shane’s face was only inches from hers.

“Save it for date night, you two.” Adalyn nudged Callie out of the office and toward the station’s front door.

“Call me if you find anything else. As
soon
as you find anything else, and before you call the
Gazette
!” Shane’s words cut off as the door slapped shut behind them.

The cold autumn breeze tugged at Callie’s coat, clearing a dozen questions tumbling through her mind.

“Don’t let him grate on you.” Adalyn pulled out her car keys. “How about coffee and pie?”

“I’d love to, but I need to go and check on the shop. I’ve been leaving Lydia alone too much lately.”

“Understandable. She’s a good girl, but when you’re a sole proprietor it’s very much like being a single mom. You always feel as if you should be somewhere else.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. Not to mention, Max misses me.” Callie hesitated, knowing she should go, but needing some reassurance. “Do you think the phone will help or hurt Reuben’s case?”

“It’s hard to say.” Adalyn glanced out at the cars and buggies making their way to and from town. “I’ve learned through the years that I can’t determine the outcome of a case — be it civil or criminal. All I can do is my best to represent my client before the court in a favorable light, to make sure his or her rights are protected, and to guide him or her through the legal process. The rest is in higher hands.”

Callie wondered if Adalyn meant the judge, the jury, or divine hands. She decided she didn’t want to know. “According to Deborah, Reuben hasn’t made your job very easy.”

Adalyn shook her head, gray hair slipping a little from the bun at the back of her neck. “Like many Amish men, Reuben is reticent, but there’s something more going on, and he’s not willing to share it with me — even if it means he spends the rest of his life in jail. Based on that, I’d say any new evidence in this case has a fair chance of being a good thing.”

“I wish Shane were on our side.”

Adalyn stopped fidgeting with her keys, studied her a moment. “Shane’s not on anyone’s side. He’s just doing his job, and he’ll do it well.”

Callie nodded, but felt unsatisfied with Adalyn’s reply.

Reaching in her bag, Adalyn pulled out a business card. “My cell and home phone numbers are on this one — just in case you don’t have them from the last time I represented you. In the future, if I don’t return your call in an hour, try the other numbers.”

Callie remained standing in the parking lot after Adalyn had driven away. She did need to return to the shop, but she had the niggling feeling that there was something more important she needed to do. Go see Ira again? It was past noon and he’d probably be resting.

Setting aside the uneasy feeling she had, Callie decided it best to wait until tomorrow morning to visit him. So she climbed into her car and drove the mile to her shop. Perhaps a few hours of stocking shelves and selling quilting supplies would help put her emotions back on track.

But it didn’t, and then Lydia called Callie to the phone. It was the
Grossdaddi
House. Ira Bontrager had been kicked by a horse and was at the local medical center. He didn’t appear to have any serious injuries, but he was upset and he was asking for her.

“You should go,” Lydia said.

“I hate to leave you here alone. You covered the morning shift by yourself.”

“I took a two-hour lunch break, remember? You asked me to go shopping in Mrs. Knepp’s quilt shop and check out her aisle arrangements, but she caught me and insisted I leave. So I had some extra time on my hands.”

“That’s right. I still can’t believe she kicked you out.”

“She knew I was spying.”

“Define
spying
.”

“She caught me with the camera you sent.”

“So I wanted a few pictures. She won’t allow me in the store anymore.”

“Do you blame her? Maybe you should call a truce.”

“A truce? But she’s stealing my business! I tried working with her, but she won’t accept my friendship. The world thinks Amish folk aren’t competitive but let me say, the owner of Quilts and Needles is determined to be cutthroat competition!” Callie jabbed a needle into a pin cushion, then looked at Lydia and smiled sweetly. “Forget about Mrs. Knepp. I need to focus on Ira. Thank you for agreeing to stay until we close. All I need you to do is lock up.”

“No problem.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m sure.”

Callie pulled the young girl into a hug. “You’re an angel. Could you take Max out for a walk before you leave?”

“Of course I will.”

“Somehow I don’t think they’ll allow him in the medical center.”

Callie was halfway to her car when Deborah pulled her buggy into the lot.

“You’re leaving?” Deborah asked.

“Yes. I’m on my way to see Ira.”

“Who is Ira?”

“Ira Bontrager, the old man I told you about who lost his daughter.”

“Callie, you can’t really be trying to help him find her.” Deborah reached for Joshua, who had pulled a banana from the bag of groceries and was trying to put it into his mouth without peeling it.

“It’s a long story, but he’s been hurt and he’s at the medical center. Now he’s asking for me, so I’m going to see if I can help.”

“Doesn’t Ira’s son live here in town?” Deborah peeled the banana and broke off a piece, then handed the smaller bite-sized chunk back to her son.

“Yes, but … it’s complicated. I wish we had time to talk. Are you headed home now?”

“I have an hour yet. I stopped by to see if you had time to run an errand with me?”

“Sure, as long as we hurry. I need to be at the medical center before visiting hours are over.”

Callie hurried into her storage room and fetched the car seat she’d purchased at a garage sale. Within five minutes they’d buckled Joshua into the backseat of her car and were on their way.

“This will give us time to catch up,” Deborah said, as they drove out of Shipshe. “Joshua’s been feeling badly, but I gave him Tylenol and he seems better. He’s cutting teeth.”

Callie peered into her rearview mirror at Joshua, who was reaching for the banana Deborah was still holding. Some things in life could be solved with a bite of soft fruit. The thought flashed through her mind and brought her the first real peace of the day.

“I had to go and see Shane about the phone,” Callie told Deborah.

“Oh dear. Does he think it’s going to help Reuben?”

“Those weren’t his exact words. He did holler a lot.”

“Shane does that sometimes, especially when he’s worried.”

“He didn’t arrest me, so yeah — let’s call it
worry.
How was your day?”

“I tried to run down some leads, but they didn’t pan out either.”

Callie looked at Deborah, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You’ve been sleuthing without me?”

“It was only to the bank and the bishop. Mrs. Barnwell at the bank was kind enough but it was a dead end. Bishop Elam …” Deborah stared out the car window at the falling leaves.

“What is it? What did your bishop say?”

“That he’d seen Reuben in town the Saturday before the body was found, and Reuben asked to have a word with him. The bishop is a private man and would never tell another person’s confidences, but he did share the nature of Reuben’s concerns.
Reuben wanted to know whether the
Ordnung
would have him put the needs of a
freind
over the needs of family.”

“And what was Bishop Elam’s answer?”

“A wise one — that the
Ordnung
and the Lord would never ask you to make such a choice. That there would always remain a way to do both. He said Reuben wasn’t satisfied with the answer.”

“Imagine that,” Callie muttered.

“
Ya
. It’s not like Reuben to question answers from the bishop, though he’s been known to be stubborn when he sets his mind to something, as you can tell from this situation.”

Callie pulled into the parking lot of the RV factory. “And he asked this before the girl died?”

“
Ya
. Bishop Elam was sure of it.”

“So unless she was in that pond for two days — and I doubt that — Reuben wasn’t asking about covering up a murder.” Callie lowered her voice as they walked into the door of the factory.

The receptionist didn’t look surprised to see an
Englisch
woman with an Amish woman and her baby. She did seem a bit uncertain as to what to do with their “Information Wanted” poster. Finally she called the floor supervisor, who took them into his office.

“I’ve definitely never seen a girl who looks like this, but then we don’t hire many Amish girls, as you can imagine.” In his fifties and practically bald, the supervisor slid the poster back across the desk. “I’m a little curious as to why you all are here. I already explained all of this to Detective Black.”

Callie and Deborah glanced at each other.

“He was here?” Callie asked.

“About an hour ago.”

“Can you tell us what he said?” Callie wound a piece of her hair round and round her finger.

“Same things you did. Showed me the same poster. Asked the same questions. Say, I wish I could help, but I do have a business
to run here. We have quite a few young Amish men on our floor and part of the reason I hire them is they don’t give me any trouble. Hard enough to make a profit these days.”

“We understand.
Danki
for your time.” Deborah stood and moved toward the door.