chapter 18
SHANE SNAPPED THE PHONE SHUT as he walked into the house. Things were moving quickly now. The knowledge of it thrummed through his veins, and he wanted to be out in the Buick chasing down the leads.
But he knew he needed to be here.
He needed to confirm what Trent had found.
And he needed to be certain Callie was okay before he left. Callie and Aaron. Fear tightened around Shane’s heart like a belt cinched too tightly, but he pushed it away. He was not going to allow anything to happen to either one of them.
Deborah was talking about something being a map.
“Maybe what’s a map?” he asked.
“The quilts. We think they’re a map of Mrs. Hochstetler’s place.” Callie twirled her hair around her finger. “The squares seem to represent different places on her farm — possibly.”
“So maybe she liked sewing what she saw out her window? You know, like we take a picture.” Shane stood over the quilts, trying to see the women’s point of view. After all, they’d been right about the newspaper article.
“That’s not the Amish way, Shane.” Esther’s voice was soft, gentle, and he was reminded of the times he’d spent trying to coax details from her regarding Seth’s death.
The people who killed Seth still hadn’t been brought to trial. It rankled him that the case was one of the few he’d been forced to walk away from, at the insistence of his superiors. But he’d always known Esther wanted the case closed without a conviction.
Callie had tried to explain it to him once, during one of their late-night phone conversations. She said it had to do with forgiveness and grace. Shane knew about grace. He’d been raised submerged in a healthy dose of it. But that type of forgiveness? No. That was beyond what he could imagine. His training didn’t allow him to imagine it.
Esther was still fingering the material in front of her. “We wouldn’t quilt a picture of our own place anymore than we’d take a photograph. It would feel like boasting, and we strive to be humble.”
“Ya, Esther’s right,” Melinda said. “Elizabeth Hochstetler wasn’t one to brag either. No, I think if she quilted a scene, there was a reason for it — it wouldn’t have been an idle venture.”
“So what could her reason have been?” Shane struggled to understand what was happening, what the girls were trying to tell him, and what Mrs. Hochstetler could have been thinking.
“Perhaps she was trying to tell someone something. Or maybe she wanted to leave a record.” Callie’s hands were out now, waving in front of her as she tended to do when she was excited. “Storybook quilts are a controversial topic. Some insist that as far back as the Civil War, quilts were used to guide folks, like runaway slaves.”
“A code?” Shane’s voice went up a notch, in spite of his determination to remain neutral.
“Yes. But others argue that no such codes existed. I’ve done a little reading on it, but not nearly enough. The point is that no one knows if such a code did exist, because the people who did the quilting are long dead and can’t attest to their true intentions.”
“Same is true of Mrs. Hochstetler and these quilts,” Deborah said.
“But the patterns are unusual, and it could be she quilted them for a reason. I never knew Elizabeth to do something on a whim.” Melinda’s voice was low, thoughtful.
“So you think the pictures might be … what? Like a treasure map?” Shane couldn’t keep the note of incredulity out of his voice now. He had a thug to catch, and it felt like the women were wasting his time chasing fantasies.
“Let’s consider the interior borders again now that we’re looking at the actual patterns in a different light.” Deborah walked around the quilts as she spoke. “The border connecting the first and the second says —”
“An industrious fraa is the best savings account,” Melinda recited the words.
“And what about the one connecting the second and the third?” Shane asked.
“A handful of patience is worth more than a bushel of brains.”
Shane met the gaze of each woman before speaking. He was willing to admit they were on to something. That much was clear. But what? And did it really have anything to do with the killer?
No one spoke as Deborah’s words faded into the night. Both proverbs were apparently everyday sayings, common among the Amish community. Both could be interpreted to focus on wealth or prosperity.
Shane decided they’d have to move on what they knew. Time was running out, and he didn’t want to give their killer any additional advantage. “I just spoke with Trent. There was one article in the Gazette mentioning Callie in the past three months. Actually it mentioned Mrs. Hochstetler in the same piece.”
“The reading of the will —” Callie’s eyes widened.
“Yes. I have the wording right here.” Shane pulled out his phone, thumbed through a few messages until he found it. “The reading of Mrs. Hochstetler’s last will and testament took place yesterday, September 14. Most of her belongings were left to friends and family, but in one surprise request, a special gift was made to Miss Callie Harper, who wasn’t available for comment at the time we went to print.”
“Oh, my gosh. That could sound like she gave me a million dollars. I barely knew the woman.”
Silence once more filled the room as the fire crackled.
“We’re getting closer. We know why this person might think you have money. And you ladies seem to think the answer is right here in front of us.” Shane stood and pulled Callie to her feet. “Get your jacket.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Levi Hochstetler’s farm. We need some answers, and he may be the one who has them.”
While Callie grabbed her jacket, found her purse, and stopped by the bathroom, Shane peeked in on Aaron. The boys appeared to be asleep, but that didn’t fool him for a minute. He’d heard them whispering before he opened the door.
At least they were safe though. They were safe for now.
It would have to be enough.
Aaron tried holding his breath while Shane stood in the doorway. Then he realized he should look like he was sleeping, and sleeping boys were probably in the habit of breathing. So he took deep breaths, hoping the covers would rise and fall and convince the detective he was out cold.
He’d played possum before. Wasn’t like this was his first time, but it had been a while. Now that he was older, his mamm and dat helped him to his room, helped him out of his chair, and didn’t check on him again.
They trusted him to stay put.
Unlike many of his freinden’s houses, Aaron’s house was a single story. Hannah’s room was near the front of the house, next to his parents’. He shared a room with his bruder at the back of the house — past the kitchen. Some nights, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d hear his parents walking back and forth, between their own room and Hannah’s. They’d left him a special bell next to his bed in case he ever needed anything, but he’d never used it.
For one thing, Matt was always in the bed across from his. If he needed anything, Matt was there for him. Aaron didn’t need a bell. He’d tried explaining that to his mamm. She’d smiled and said she felt better leaving the bell there all the same. He could no more have understood the reasons for the things his mamm insisted on than he could have understood why the chickens walked in a circular motion when he threw out the food or why Creeper had chosen Fall Festival to disrupt their lives.
“Are you asleep?” Matt asked.
“‘Course not.”
“Sure sounded like it to me.” Joseph began laughing and threw something at Jacob, starting a pillow fight — albeit a somewhat quiet one.
“Any idea why Shane would be checking on us?” Aaron asked.
“Guess he wanted to be sure Creeper hadn’t snuck into the room and snatched you.”
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room, Aaron could make out that everyone was sitting up in their beds — everyone except Joshua, who was snoring in a crib in the corner. Aaron struggled to a sitting position and studied the play of shadow and light coming in through the window. Surely the killer couldn’t find a way into the house.
“That’s impossible,” Jacob said as he whacked Joseph over the head with his pillow. “My dat’s right outside the window. I saw him not ten minutes ago.”
“Yup. No one gets past Dat. I tried sneaking out once.” Joseph dodged a hit to his right shoulder. “He caught me before I had one leg out the window.”
“Aren’t you too young to be sneaking out the windows? And isn’t your room upstairs at your house?” Matthew looked at Joseph with what Aaron thought was a mixture of annoyance and admiration, sort of like John Wayne usually looked at his sidekick.
Why was that movie stuck in his head?
“Ya, we’re upstairs,” Jacob said. “But there’s a gut trellis running down the wall for Mamm’s flowers. Built nice and sturdy too.”
“It was a few months ago. I’d already turned seven.” Joseph shrugged as if that explained everything, but when he turned toward Matthew and Aaron, Jacob landed a shot directly on the top of his head. Joseph fell over as if he were knocked out.
“The pigs are why he was leaving. He’s always worried about those pigs.” Jacob shook his head as if he couldn’t understand the ways of his twin brother, which was when Joseph leapt up and attacked from behind.
While the counterattack was occurring, Aaron turned to Matthew. “Are we all set for tomorrow morning?”
“I think so. Talked to Martha before she took the younger girls into the other room. Her mamm already asked if she wanted to go into town to help in her aenti’s booth. She’ll have no problem sneaking away to meet us.”
“And the phone?”
“Says it won’t be a problem.”
“Who has a phone?” The twins were suddenly no longer interested in the pillow fight. They plopped down on either side of Aaron, all eyes and ears.
Aaron tried to be aggravated with their listening in on the conversation, but it was impossible to be irritated with Jacob and Joseph. The two had been his friends for as long as he could remember. They were as loyal as Matt, and they’d never once let his sickness come in the way of a good time.
In fact, more than once he’d found himself in trouble because of them. Freinden didn’t come any better.
He looked to Matt, who nodded.
“We’re going after Creeper tomorrow.”
“Using my bruder here as bait,” Matt added. “And this time we’re going to catch him.”
“Martha’s bringing a phone, so we can call Shane if we need him.”
The twins looked at each other, silent for the space of a few seconds as the sound of their dat walking a patrol outside the window filled the night. When his footsteps had faded, a grin spread across each face.
“Awesome,” Jacob said. “I seriously doubt this man knows what he’s in for.”
Joseph picked up his pillow, held it over his shoulder like a bat. “Ya. And if you need any help, I’ll sic my pigs on him.”