Who the Bishop Knows

by Vannetta Chapman

  Clyde walked him to his vehicle. Rachel began to clean up the kitchen. Daniel and Henry walked toward the side of the barn where their horses waited, still hitched to the buggies. Emma stepped out on the front porch with Abigail.

  She didn’t want to throw a damp towel on such good news, but she had to ask. “Do you think… Are you sure it’s Naomi’s writing?”

  “Oh, ya. I’m sure. The way she slants her letters to the left, she’s done that since she was a child.” Abigail’s forehead wrinkled as she looked down at the piece of paper in her hand.

  “What is it? You’ve thought of something.”

  “Only that… well, Naomi isn’t one to express her emotions.”

  “Her emotions? What do you mean?”

  “See this line? Much love? That doesn’t sound like her at all. In fact, usually she doesn’t even sign her letters. I read the ones she sends to her mamm, add my own bit onto the end, and I’m always having to remind her to sign her name, to mention to her mother that she cares. She says her mamm knows, and I tell her mothers like to be reminded of such things.”

  “She’s fallen into the habit, then.”

  “Nein. She left her most recent letter on the table yesterday. As usual, no signature. No I love you, Mamm or Give Dat my love. Nothing like that. She cares, I know she does, but she doesn’t think to put it into words.”

  Emma thought about that a minute and tried not to assign too much meaning to it. Perhaps it was as Grayson said. Maybe they were twitchy.

  “I keep wondering why Katie Ann didn’t leave a note,” she admitted. “I know girls go through their rumspringa the same as boys do…”

  “I only had Sam, so I haven’t dealt much with girls before.”

  “And our only girl is Katie Ann.”

  “Still, girls do go through a time of trying Englisch things.”

  “Like walking a friend home but deciding to leave for a movie instead? Deciding to stay out all night?” Emma shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Katie Ann making that kind of choice.

  “The idea that they would go to Alamosa to a movie, spend some time shopping, stay the night with friends… it’s not as if they’re taking drugs or staying with boys.”

  “They didn’t even have their purses with them.”

  “Could have slipped a few dollars in their pocket.”

  But Katie Ann had no interest in shopping or in movies, and as far as Emma knew, she had no friends in Alamosa.

  There was something else, something in the back of her mind since this first happened. Katie Ann was now working for Doc Berry on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, which meant she hadn’t shown up for work today.

  She’d left Doc Berry in the lurch, shorthanded, without an assistant.

  And just like that, the anxiety and worry was back.

  Despite Naomi’s note, Emma knew something was very wrong.

  Fifty-Five

  Henry listened patiently to Emma. He didn’t rush her or interrupt. She paced back and forth in front of him, a most uncharacteristic thing for her to do. She continually scanned the horizon, and when she turned to look at him, he saw in her eyes the depth of her misery.

  “I agree with you that something doesn’t sit right.”

  “Katie Ann loves working with Doc Berry.”

  “She’s mentioned that to me on more than one occasion.”

  “Some days she goes over on her day off just to check on an animal.” Emma had clasped both of her kapp strings in her hands and was twisting them round and round.

  “And you’re certain Naomi is scheduled to work at the bakery today?”

  “Ya. Abigail said as much, though she didn’t assign as much weight to it as I do.”

  “I don’t know, Emma. What you’re saying does concern me, but the note from Naomi explains what happened.”

  “If she wrote it.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe she didn’t? Abigail said it was her handwriting.”

  She told him about Abigail’s claim that Naomi never expressed her emotions. “The much love she wrote at the bottom? It doesn’t sound like her at all. Abigail admitted that.”

  Henry scratched at a spot on the back of his neck. They’d walked over to where trees and brush had been cleared for their dawdi haus. Lexi sniffed around the foundation, as if she knew it would soon be her home as well. Some days he thought it was a dream, this life they had planned. Other days, it felt so real, so tangible, that he was surprised to wake up still in his own house. All that would change in three weeks.

  “I’m scared, and I don’t mind admitting it.” Emma pressed her fingertips to her lips. “I know earlier I said I felt sure everything would be all right today, but now… with the note… Why would Naomi write a note like that?”

  “So Abigail wouldn’t worry.”

  “Why not go inside and tell her?”

  “Maybe she was avoiding a confrontation.”

  “And why didn’t Katie Ann write me a note?”

  “Ah. Perhaps that’s what is bothering you.”

  “Henry Lapp, this is not about my ego!”

  “No. I believe it’s about your heart.”

  “I know my granddaughter cares about me, but this disappearing act is so… so out of character for her.”

  “I agree. Have you spoken to Clyde about this?”

  “Nein. I couldn’t bring myself to dash his hopes upon the rocks. I thought I’d speak with you first.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We wait until tonight. It’s all we can do. Grayson won’t put out the BOLO now, not after seeing the note from Naomi.”

  “And if they don’t return tonight?”

  “Then I’ll speak to him and ask him to reopen the search.”

  Emma tsked. “There never was a police search to begin with. And now no one else thinks they’re missing.”

  “None of us slept much. Perhaps things will look better after we do.”

  “Things will look better when Katie Ann and Naomi are home.”

  Those words rang in Henry’s mind as he made his way back to his place. He needed to visit some of his congregation this week. Josephine Glick had missed church because the doctor had put her on bed rest until the birth of her child. Deborah and Adam King’s daughter had a terrible summer cold, so they, too, had missed the service. Chester Yoder had been limping at the luncheon. No doubt his hip was bothering him again.

  The work of ministering to people continued through the good days and the bad.

  But as he turned Oreo down his own lane, he knew he wouldn’t be visiting the sick today. Just the sight of his workshop caused his heart to race. Was drawing becoming an obsession? He didn’t think so. He rarely felt the need to indulge his unexplainable artistic ability, and it wasn’t as if he thought he alone could solve a mystery.

  But Naomi and Katie Ann’s behavior was a mystery. He agreed with Emma that leaving so abruptly was out of character for both girls. Not even bothering to show up for their jobs? That made no sense at all. Both girls loved where they worked and had said as much to him recently. They might shirk housework, but they wouldn’t disappoint their employers.

  Jeremiah was dead. The girls were missing.

  The two events had to be connected, but perhaps he’d been drawing the wrong thing. Maybe instead of focusing on Jeremiah, he should focus on the girls.

  Without pausing to go into his house, he pastured his horse and went straight to the workshop. Lexi flopped onto her bed without protest, and Henry picked up his pencil and a clean sheet of paper. Soon he was lost in the past his mind had recorded.

  Fifty-Six

  Naomi must have fallen asleep, which she hadn’t thought was possible. When she opened her eyes, Katie Ann was staring up at the ceiling of the horse trailer.

  “Find a way out yet?”

  Katie Ann glanced toward her and smiled a little. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Why is he doing this
?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, and I can’t come up with a good answer.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What are we going to do?” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but it was difficult. Her emotions alternated between anger and fear. At the moment, fear was winning.

  “We’re going to get out of this.”

  “Our plan last night didn’t work so well.”

  “Which doesn’t mean we’re going to give up.”

  The trailer seemed to be getting smaller, perhaps because they’d been in it so long. Naomi had read about people with claustrophobia, and she didn’t think she had an issue with it—but perhaps she would if she had to sit in the trailer much longer.

  Leaning against the bales of hay had made her itchy, and she attempted to scratch at her legs with her bound hands. At least he’d left them in front of them when he’d wrapped the duct tape from their palms to their wrists. She couldn’t do a thing with her hands, but she was grateful that her shoulders weren’t wrenched behind her—that would have been terribly uncomfortable.

  “Where do you think he went?”

  “To deliver your note, I’m sure.”

  “That wouldn’t have taken this long. He left well before sunup.”

  “I don’t know, but this trailer is going to get awfully hot sitting in the sun.”

  “Why didn’t he tape our mouths? I thought he was going to. I was tempted to bite him if he tried.”

  “Why bother? There’s no one within five miles. No one to hear us.”

  Naomi scratched at her nose with her taped hands. “These bales of hay had better not have chiggers.”

  “Mammi makes a baking soda scrub that works wonders. I’ll ask her to mix some up for you.” Katie Ann sat up and scooted closer to Naomi. They sat there, shoulder to shoulder, considering their plight.

  “We can’t get out while we’re taped up,” Katie Ann said.

  “I doubt he’s going to keep us here for long.”

  “Why would he?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And what was the second note he wrote?”

  “I tried to read it, but he leveled me with that creepy stare and told me to mind my own business.”

  “Think it was a ransom note?”

  “How do you know about ransom notes?”

  “One of the books my mamm was reading.” Katie Ann stared up at the ceiling of the trailer again. “A young girl had been kidnapped from a rich Englischer, and the man—the kidnapper—took the child to an Amish farm to hide her. He wasn’t a bad man, but he was desperate. His daughter needed some medical procedures, and he didn’t have enough money. That was the reason he did such a terrible thing, because he loved his daughter so much.”

  “And because he wanted the money.”

  “Exactly.”

  “No one in our community is rich.”

  “Except for Leroy Kauffmann.”

  “If that’s who he was targeting, he would have kidnapped one of Leroy’s children.”

  “Do you think… do you think he killed Jeremiah?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “I think he might have,” Katie Ann admitted.

  “Did you ever suspect he was capable of such a thing?”

  “Nein. I can’t say I liked him, but I never considered he would be the one… ”

  “People hide who they truly are.” Naomi lifted her hands in front of her and then let them fall. “Or maybe it’s simply that we don’t take the time to look closely enough.”

  “I think if he doesn’t get what he wants, he might do it again.”

  “You’re not cheering me up.”

  “But talking it through helps. Ya?”

  “I suppose.”

  “We’re not going to wait to be rescued.” Katie Ann sat forward and arched her back like a cat. “When he moves us to wherever he’s moving us, we’re going to be ready. And this time? He’s not going to expect what we’re doing.”

  They tried to fist bump, but with their hands taped it wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

  “What should we do now?” Naomi asked.

  “Try to rest. We’re going to need our energy later, so let’s try to sleep while we can.”

  “I’m not the least bit tired.” Naomi yawned hugely and then sighed. “Maybe I am a little, but I want to be resting at home, not here.”

  “I think he plans for this to be over by tonight.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “No food. All he’s given us is water. If he were planning to keep us for days or weeks, I think he’d be better supplied.”

  “So we need to be ready when he comes back. We need to have a plan by then.”

  “Ya, we do.”

  Fifty-Seven

  Emma wasn’t sure what else to do with her worry, so she set about cleaning house and doing the daily chores that needed to be done. Rachel was tending to Katie Ann’s chores in the barn, and the boys were helping their father. Emma focused on the house. After she’d finished the breakfast dishes and laid out what they would need for lunch, Emma walked out to the mailbox. They were near the beginning of their mail carrier’s route, so the mail was always delivered before noon. Emma glanced up and down the road, hoping she would catch a glimpse of Katie Ann walking toward home.

  But all she saw was a two-lane blacktop stretching across the San Luis Valley.

  No granddaughter.

  No buggies.

  No Englisch cars.

  She pressed her hand to her abdomen, trying to squelch the fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Katie Ann was fine. She’d simply gone off with a friend and forgotten to tell anyone. It was unlike her, but she was young and hadn’t yet had much of a rumspringa. These things happened.

  Emma reached into the mailbox and pulled out a small bundle of sales circulars, one letter from Goshen, and on top of that a blank envelope with the words EMMA FISHER on it. No mailing address or stamp or return address.

  With trembling hands, she flipped the envelope over, slit open the flap, and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

  Who now would follow Christ in life

  Must scorn the world’s insult and strife

  And bear the cross each day.

  For this alone leads to the throne

  Christ is the only way.

  The words were familiar, coming from a hymn found in their Ausbund. Emma didn’t understand what they were doing in this letter, what the writer meant. Then she turned the page over, and her knees went weak so that she stumbled backward and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for the fence behind her, catching her and supporting her weight.

  If you want to see Katie Ann and Naomi again, get $10,000.

  Be at the phone shack nearest Henry’s house at 3:25 today.

  No wires or police. Bring the drawings.

  Come alone—you and Henry.

  You’ll receive further instructions there.

  Emma read the note again, but the words didn’t change. It wasn’t signed, of course, and it didn’t look like the letter carrier had delivered it. Whoever left it had waited for the mail to be delivered and then placed the ransom note on top. And there was no mistake about it—that was exactly what she was holding.

  Someone wanted a ransom to return Katie Ann and Naomi.

  She read the note a third time, her heart still hammering and her palms slick. When she reached the fourth line, she understood what she had to do. The writer’s intent was clear. This was between her and Henry and the person responsible for taking the girls. Emma knew her family would never allow her to do as the note directed. If she walked back to the house, they would insist on calling the police, on going with her, on protecting her and Henry and the girls from this madman.

  She stared at the note, her hand shaking as a westerly wind whipped the sheet of paper back and forth.

  Come alone—you and Henry.

  Henry would know what
to do, and the writer of the note expected the two of them. Surely two would be better than one. She reached into the mailbox, pulled out the pencil they kept at the back, and scribbled a note on the back of a flyer. Folding the flyer carefully so they would be sure to see it, she placed it on top of the stack of mail, put it all back into the mailbox—all except for the ransom note—and closed the mailbox.

  Then without looking back, she hurried down the road.

  By the time she reached Henry’s, fat drops of rain had begun to pepper the ground.

  More rain in a valley where they rarely received precipitation two days in a row. She barely noticed.

  Henry wasn’t in the house, and there was no sign of Lexi, so she rushed over to the workshop. Lexi was sleeping under the porch overhang. The little dog sat up, yipped once, and then darted out toward her. Emma patted her on the head and then called out to Henry as she practically ran into the workshop.

  He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at his drawings.

  “Emma, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  “Ya. That’s obvious.”

  “I just keep drawing, but I can’t… I can’t seem to find the answer. Perhaps it’s not here.”

  There had to be dozens of them. He’d used thumbtacks to pin them around the room at eye level. They made a dizzying sort of wallpaper, and Emma was momentarily distracted by them.

  Was the answer there among the sketches?

  Had Henry managed to capture an image of the person who had brought such chaos and tragedy into their lives once again?

  Would she recognize him for the evil person he was?

  But then she remembered she was holding the answer in her hand, or at least a part of it.

  “This was in our mailbox.” She thrust the note into Henry’s hands.

  He read through it quickly the first time, muttering the words aloud as he did so. His eyes met hers, and she knew then, in that moment, that Henry would not desert her. Well, of course he wouldn’t. He was their bishop, a good bishop, and moreover, he was their friend. He would soon be a part of their family. He would be her husband. He cared about her and about Katie Ann, about her entire family. Together they’d find a way through this.