A Prayer for the Night (19 page)

Yoder opened his eyes and motioned to Cal for some more ice. He took the cup, knocked some ice into his mouth, and crunched it between his teeth. He repeated that until all the ice was gone from the cup, and then handed the cup back to Troyer and sighed heavily, turning his head from side to side. Then he started talking softly, so that Branden and Troyer had to move closer to hear.

“White came out with some of his men a couple of weeks after we took the drugs, and he wanted his money. Right then and there. It was me, John Schlabaugh, and Andy Stutzman, and we met White and his men at the red barn. Andy was crazy drunk like he always is, and me and John talked to White. We hadn’t sold hardly any of the drugs, so he hit Johnny and beat him up. We wanted to give all of what was left back to him, but White wouldn’t let us. He said we owed him cash for the drugs and if we didn’t pay up, he’d kill one of us.

“That’s when Johnny started talking fast. He told White about old Spits Wallace and his gold coins. Everybody knows about that. Johnny said he’d show White how to find the Wallace place, if he’d just let us go. Just let us have more time to sell the drugs, and White could have the gold coins in the meantime.

“When we got to the Wallace place, Andy was passed out in the back of the SUV White was driving. We thought we could just bust in there and grab the gold. That’s when one of White’s guys got shot. Going in the kitchen door. We never saw Wallace, but he must have shot the guy. White started screaming at us. He hit Johnny with his gun, and while he was hitting Johnny, I took off running, and I heard a shot. I didn’t feel a bullet. Heard the shot, but didn’t feel anything until later.

“They had Andy in the back, and I saw them stuff Johnny in the car too, and load that dead guy in the back. I had a feeling they’d go back to the red barn, so I started off through the woods to get there, and my side was starting to hurt, so I touched it down there and got blood on my hand. When I got to the edge of the woods above the barn, I had a good view from about fifty yards away, and I stayed hidden behind the trees. They had Andy hauled out on his stomach in the dirt and Johnny kneeling in the gravel beside him. White had a gun out, and I thought Andy and John was both goners for sure.”

As he spoke, Abe Yoder’s eyes widened to saucers. His grip on the aluminum safety rail tightened, and his hand shook spasmodically under the strain.

Cal said, “Take it easy, Abe,” and handed him another cup of ice.

Yoder chewed, and drew in ragged breaths. Puddles gathered in his eyes, and tears began to stream down his cheeks.

“I ran away when Johnny needed me,” he said, sobbing. “I ran away to save myself. Oh, Johnny! I couldn’t save you. Oh, God help me! I can’t stand it.”

As Branden and Troyer tried to calm Yoder, his IV line pulled loose, and the pump alarm started beeping. A nurse ran in and rushed up to Yoder’s side. She shut off the IV pump, pushed Branden and Troyer back a bit, and examined the dressing over Yoder’s wound. A second nurse came in and demanded, “Under control?”

First Nurse said, “His line pulled loose. I’ll have it reinserted in a minute.”

Second Nurse scolded Branden and Troyer, “You can’t disturb Mr. Yoder. You’ll have to leave if you’re going to rile him up.”

Troyer said, “We’ll be fine. The worst is over.”

Second Nurse eyed him skeptically and waited for the first nurse to finish attaching the IV needle to a second spot on Yoder’s wrist. When the first nurse walked out, Second Nurse said, “You’ll have to leave if he gets agitated again.”

Branden and Troyer nodded silently, and she left. When they returned to his side, Abe was calmer. He started talking on his own.

“I couldn’t hear what White was saying, but he was angry. He yelled a lot, and Johnny just knelt there, with his head hanging down. Then White went over and hauled Andy up onto his knees. Left him swaying there, drunk like he was. Anyway, I don’t know what he said, but White laughed, stepped back, and leveled that big black gun at Andy. Andy lurched forward, White cocked the hammer back, and that’s when Johnny lunged at him. To try to stop him from killing Andy. Johnny Schlabaugh got shot in the head trying to save Andy Stutzman, and all White did was laugh about it. He left Andy kneeling in the dirt, and drove away. He left Johnny sprawled out on the gravel, dead.

“When I got down to them, Andy was sobered up some. He was knelt over Johnny’s body, crying. Moaning some horrible sound, like a tortured animal. I couldn’t get him to shut up. He must have been out of his mind. Then, all of a sudden, Andy stumbled up onto his feet, and started running down the lane. Like he was chased by demons. I tried to find him later, but he must have cut through the woods, because I never saw him again. All I could think of was that me and Johnny had a fight the night before, and he bloodied my nose. Him lying there dead, and all I could think about was some stupid fight.

“I buried Johnny as deep as I could. My side was hurting, and I passed out once. I took his secret, prepaid phone because I thought it would be safer to use than mine. I hid in the cabin. Tried to heal up the wound from where they shot me. I called Jeremiah, and he came to help me. Then we got worried. They can trace those phones. We saw that on TV. I couldn’t let White trace me while I couldn’t move, so I let Jeremiah take Johnny’s phone. I told him to throw it away.

“Before, when I still had Johnny’s phone, I put a message in the
Sugarcreek Budget,
and I was planning on getting away from there. I was going to be long gone before anyone could figure out that message. I didn’t even know they would see it, the rest of the gang, but everybody reads the
Budget,
so I thought—Oh—I don’t know what I thought. I couldn’t leave Johnny in that hole in the ground without letting somebody know where he was. And I couldn’t stand the idea of telling Jeremiah face to face what had happened. I thought I could get away. Not have to face any of them.”

“You just buried him and left?” Cal asked.

Abe said, “I didn’t know what else to do. I still had the drugs and a lot of money. If I told about Johnny, the sheriff would find out, and then I’d never get a chance to settle up with White. We’d all have been in danger. Guys like White can find people easy enough. I thought if I had more time, I could do something. But I barely made it back to the cabins. Then I felt bad about it, and I put that message in the
Budget.
”

“How did you think anyone would find Johnny’s body?” Cal asked.

Abe closed his eyes, sighed heavily. “I can’t remember. I was passed out half the time. Jeremiah helped me, but I never told him about Johnny. I guess I figured I’d be long gone by the time the
Budget
came out on Wednesday.

“But I got worse in my side, and I started losing track of the time. Couldn’t travel. I don’t remember how I got in the hospital.”

“I found you, Abe,” Branden said. “We took you to the hospital. By then, Sara had led us to John Schlabaugh.”

Yoder drew in a labored breath and sighed it out slowly.

Branden asked, “Did Jeremiah take you out of the hospital?”

Yoder nodded and said, “He was crazy about Sara. Said we had to give the briefcase back to get Sara free. He said White had called him on Johnny’s prepaid cell phone, Friday morning, and said he was going to kill her if we didn’t show up with the drugs or the money. He said he was cutting his losses now that Johnny was dead. Said he couldn’t trust the rest of us hillbillies to make good on the sale of his drugs, so he’d take all the cash and all the drugs we still had.”

“You didn’t know we had found the briefcase,” Branden said.

“No. And then we were just crazy people. Went down to that bar. We didn’t know what we were doing. We couldn’t give the drugs back anymore. So, we had to try something.”

“Sara is safe now,” Cal said, reassuringly.

Yoder squeezed his eyelids together and sobbed.

Branden dried Abe’s cheeks with the edge of the bedsheets. Cal wet a towel from the bathroom and placed it on Abe Yoder’s forehead. When Yoder got himself composed, he whispered, “Stop Jeremiah.”

Sunday, July 25
7:40 P.M.

 

 

IN ROBERTSON’S office later, Jeremiah sat in front of Robertson’s big desk in the same English clothes he had worn at the bar the day before and sulked. Branden sat facing him, and Robertson stood behind his desk. Jeremiah steadfastly refused to talk about either his activities or his intentions.

Robertson said, “If I could charge you with something, Jeremiah, I’d do that. Just to keep you here.”

“You haven’t got a reason to keep me,” Jeremiah said. “And I don’t want to stay.”

Robertson said to Branden, “You try something.”

Branden said, “We’ll get him, Jeremiah. All you have to do is trust us.”

“Abe told me White killed Johnny Schlabaugh,” Jeremiah stated flatly. “And he tried to kill Sara. What would you do with him if you did catch him?”

Robertson said, “He’d go to trial. Probably get life in prison.”

Jeremiah shook his head and focused his eyes on the front of Robertson’s desk. “I don’t know where he is,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“Look, young man,” Robertson growled. “I won’t have you running off half-cocked to try to handle this on your own.”

Jeremiah said, “I’m just one kid. How am I going to handle a guy like this White?”

“Listen good,” Robertson said. “If something happens to White outside of the law, I’m coming after you!”

“What can the law do?” Jeremiah asked. “This White gets away all the time!”

“His people are locked up,” Robertson said, forcing some calm into his voice. “We got them, Jeremiah. They’re not getting off. And the same will happen to Samuel White. It’s just a matter of time.”

Jeremiah didn’t respond. Instead, he looked to Branden with a question in his eyes.

Branden said, “You can trust the sheriff, Jeremiah. Let the authorities handle this. Go see Sara. I’m sure she can use the company. Stay out of the hunt for White. Go home and sit a while with Gertie. You deserve some peace in your life. Make a life with Sara. She needs someone like you. Don’t let her down, now. Let it rest.”

Jeremiah pondered the matter as he sat immobile in his chair. He closed his eyes and drew a long breath. He turned and studied the professor’s eyes, and saw a sure, peaceful conviction there. He nodded, got up, and said, “OK.” Then he turned to Robertson and said, “Can I go now?”

Robertson’s expression was skeptical, but he said, “Sure, Jeremiah. We can’t hold you.”

Jeremiah walked to the door, turned, and said, “I’m going to see Sara, and then I’m going away for a few days. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No problem,” Robertson said. “You’re free to go. But I’m warning you. Don’t blow this now.”

Jeremiah looked steadily to each man, turned, and walked out.

Robertson sat down at his desk, took a pencil, and tapped the eraser end nervously on his desktop. Branden lounged in the low leather chair to the right of Robertson’s desk, feet out straight and crossed at the ankles, fingertips snatching nervously at his short beard.

Robertson said, “That kid’s gonna go after White.”

“I know,” Branden said. “We’ve got to figure a way to get to White first.”

Bobby Newell, in uniform, came into the office holding a printout and said, “We’ve got a preliminary report from the BCI lab people on Schlabaugh’s Firebird. I asked them to come out a day early. Work a Sunday. They lifted seven prints. None are in the system. The blood on the driver’s seat matches Abe Yoder’s type, but it’ll take a while if we want DNA matching.”

“We know Abe moved the Firebird,” Branden said. “Parked it in the barn. That’s going to have been after he got shot.”

“So no DNA?” Newell asked.

“Not at the moment,” Robertson said. “How about Abe Yoder’s phone? The one from the grave?”

“Dan had the phone company print out the calls and messages earlier today. It’s apparently all innocuous stuff.”

Branden said, “It has all the numbers stored?”

“All the times, and all the numbers,” Newell said.

“Then one of them is going to be Jeremiah Miller’s cell phone,” Branden said. “Another will be Johnny Schlabaugh’s.”

“I suppose so,” Newell said.

“Can the phone company tell us if Jeremiah makes a call on either of those phones?” Branden asked.

“Yes,” Newell said. “They can tell us when he makes a call, and what his location is.”

“So, that’s a way to keep track of where he is when he makes a call,” Branden said.

Robertson asked, “Can they record the conversations?”

Newell said, “They can get text messages. I don’t know about voice.”

Robertson said, “Then let’s follow this up, Bobby. On your night shift, and Dan Wilsher, tomorrow. If he makes a call, we need to know where he is, and what he’s saying, if that’s possible. We especially need to know who he’s calling. And text messages he sends.”

Newell said, “I’ll get a warrant,” and left.

Branden pushed himself out of his chair and paced in front of Robertson’s desk. “Is this the best we can do?” he asked.

“If we follow Jeremiah around,” Robertson said, “he’s either going to rabbit on us or lay low. Wait us out.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

There was a knock at the door, and the night-shift dispatcher, Ed Hollings, came in and said, “Sheriff, you have a visitor.”

Tony Arnetto pushed past Hollings into the office and walked a slow, deliberate circle in front of the tall office windows. Hollings shrugged, turned, and left.

Robertson asked, “Have you got White yet?”

Arnetto ignored the question. “I want to talk to the kid you brought in with Abe Yoder. Jeremiah something.”

“Miller,” Branden said. “Jeremiah Miller.”

“Well, good for him!” Arnetto shot. “He’s a Miller. How very special.”