Unforeseeable (25 page)

“Not just the scar. She's changed drastically in other ways too. No one except Ruth recognized her.” I shook my head. “The truth is, somewhere inside I knew. Right after she came
to town, I started feeling anxious. Even angry. I'm sure it was because I figured out who she was and couldn't face it.”

“Oh.”

Hope drew out the word as if what I'd said had explained something.

“You noticed too?”

She gave me a small smile. “Well, yes. I could see you weren't yourself, but I couldn't figure out why.”

I shook my head. “Actually, I think I was finally becoming myself.” I cleared my throat. “The problem is, I still don't know how I'll end up.”

Hope reached over and put her hand on mine. “Oh, Callie. There might be some changes in the way you think, but in your heart, you'll always be the same warm, caring, and kind person who is my dear friend.”

“Thank you. That means the world to me.”

Hope nodded. “Well, I hope you two work out your differences. Wouldn't it be lovely to have a mother again?”

I took a moment to answer. “Maybe,” I said slowly. “We'll have to see. When Levi and I get married, I won't let her interfere or cause problems between us.”

“I understand, and I think that's wise, but I'll pray that you and your mother can find a way back to each other. Her coming to Kingdom shows she cares for you. She took a big chance.”

“I guess, but I wish she'd come to me immediately instead of hiding out and pretending to be someone else.”

Hope picked up her cup of hot tea and stared into it. “Sometimes it's hard to live by what we know we should do. Human beings are often led by their own fears. I imagine your mother was afraid of rejection. Afraid you would tell her to go away.”

“Maybe so. I guess if anyone should understand that, I should.” I smiled at her. “You're always so stable and calm, Hope. How do you do it?”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh my. You don't see me all the time. I've had moments when I thought I was coming apart at the seams. The only thing that held me together was believing that God truly has a purpose for my life. That I matter to Him. All of us need to know we're here for a reason. What's that Scripture verse? ‘Where there is no vision, the people perish.' We're not wandering generalities, Callie. Each and every one of us has a high calling. A race set before us and gifts specifically given to us so we can cross our own finish line. I believe that with all my heart.”

We talked a bit more, and even though I had no desire to sleep, my eyes began to feel heavy. The pain pills were having more of an effect on me than I'd anticipated. I dozed for a while and woke up just as Hope was carrying in my lunch.

After eating, she helped me upstairs to the bathroom. About halfway up the stairs, I was convinced I couldn't make it. Hope is small and not very strong. It took us a while to complete the task and get back downstairs. By the time Hope had me settled back on the couch, it was almost one o'clock.

“I thought Bud was supposed to be here around noon,” she said, looking at the clock. As soon as the words left her mouth, we heard a car door slam. Hope went to the window to see who it was.

“It's Bud,” she announced. She waited a moment and then opened the front door to greet him.

“Why, hello there!” he announced jovially as he entered the living room. “I hear someone hasn't been feeling up to
par.” He walked around to my side of the couch. “How are you doing, young lady?”

I smiled at him. “Getting better little by little. Sorry to make you babysit me.”

“Oh,
pshaw
,” he said. “I'm happy I can help. I was going to be here anyway.”

“I know. But I'm still grateful.”

“Well, to be honest, bein' around people right now is good for me. Makes me get my mind off my troubles.” With a grin, he pulled out a large fluffy teddy bear from behind his back. “Wanted to get you somethin'. Stopped by a flower store, but everything looked a little puny, it bein' winter and all. Then I saw this. Thought you might like it.”

“Oh, Bud,” I said. “You shouldn't have.”

“I just wanted to make you feel better.”

“Thank you so much. It's wonderful.”

I took it from his hands and set it next to me on the couch. “Now I'll never be alone.”

He laughed and nodded. “Guess I better get to work. Lots to do today. I'm gonna pull my van around back so my tools will be closer to the kitchen. Saves me from havin' to make so many trips back and forth. Don't wanna bother you.”

The sound of another vehicle came from outside the house. It had to be Noah coming to pick up Hope. Sure enough, he opened the door and came inside. I was surprised to see Roger with him. Feeling a little self-conscious, I pulled the quilt up a little higher and patted my hair to make sure it was still in place. I'd tied it back with a ribbon. It looked okay when I checked it in the bathroom mirror while Hope and I were upstairs, but I had no idea what I looked like now. Not used to wearing my hair in any style other than a bun, I felt self-conscious.

Roger walked over to the couch. I could see the grief in his expression, and I felt bad for him.

“How are you doing, Callie?” he asked.

“I'm fine, Roger. How are you?”

“Doing better. Thanks for asking.”

“I'm so sorry about Mary,” I said. “If I can do anything . . .”

“There's really nothing anyone can do,” he said sadly. “I just have to get through it. But thank you. I appreciate it.”

I wanted to say something else. Something encouraging, but I couldn't find the right words. Thankfully, Noah filled in the silence.

“Roger was at the restaurant, and when he heard I was coming to see you, he wanted to ride along.”

“That's so sweet,” I said. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He smiled, but the unhappiness in his eyes remained.

“Been praying for you, Deputy,” Bud said. “You probably know I lost my wife a while back. I can't say I know how you feel, 'cause we're all so different. But I have an inkling. I'm sure sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Bud,” Roger said. “I'm sorry for yours as well.”

“Roger, are you any closer to catching the man who did this?” Hope asked.

Roger sighed and crossed his arms across his chest. “We did get a tip about a possible suspect, but we haven't been able to prove anything. In fact, we haven't been able to find him. When we come across him, we plan to question him. See if we can make any connection to the murders. All we have to do is match the DNA, and we'll have him for the recent murders—and the deaths twenty years ago.”

Was he talking about John Lapp? Had John really disappeared? Could he possibly be a serial killer?

“I hope you catch him soon, Deputy,” Bud said. “All them poor ladies. It's just too much to bear. Did you ever find out who the woman was they found in them red cedar trees?”

Roger nodded. “Her name's Montrose. Carol Montrose. She lived in Junction City. Was on her way to see a friend in Marysville but never arrived. We've notified her family.”

“I'll pray for them,” Hope said. “I can't imagine what they're going through.”

“Well, I can,” Roger said grimly.

Hope's already pale face turned even whiter. “Oh, Roger. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean . . .”

He waved his hand at her. “Don't be silly. Can't have folks walking on eggshells around me forever. This whole situation is just terrible. I can't believe something like this started up right after I signed on with the department.”

“You don't think it had anything to do with you, do you?” Noah asked. “I mean, Mary wasn't targeted because of your job with the sheriff?”

Roger shook his head. “No. We wondered about that at the beginning, but it looks like Mary was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” His freckled face flushed red, almost competing with his light red hair. “I asked her to stay home that night, but she left anyway.”

“Do you know why?” I asked. Frankly, I couldn't imagine the wife of a sheriff's deputy making such a careless decision. Didn't she know better than to go out alone?

Roger took off his hat and scratched his head. “I honestly don't know where she was headed, but my best guess is the store. She kept talking about chuck roast being on sale. I
told her I'd swing by and pick it up on my way home, but it looks like she decided not to wait on me. Her car, with her purse on the front seat, was found on the road between Washington and Kingdom. Obviously someone forced her to drive out of town.”

Roger put his hat back on. I noticed his torn pocket had been repaired, but the stitches were amateurish and ragged. Obviously, he'd done the job himself. Somehow it made Mary's loss clear in an even more tangible way.

“Well, we'd better get Hope back to the quilt shop,” Noah said. “Thanks for keeping an eye on Callie, Bud. I won't be gone too long. Should be back here around three-thirty at the latest.”

“No problem at all. I'll just be workin' in the kitchen.”

“Callie, if you need anything, Bud can call us. The phone's working now.”

I nodded. “Thank you, but I'll be fine.”

Hope came over and kissed my forehead. “I'll be back tomorrow. You be good. Take your pills and rest.”

“I will. And thank you.”

Bud waited in the living room until the three of them left. “I feel so bad for that young man,” he said. “Losin' Thelma wasn't the same as what he's been through. Thelma had been sickly for a while. Hope he didn't think I was speakin' out of turn.”

“I'm sure he didn't. It's so hard to know what to say.”

He nodded. “Can't even allow myself to think about those poor women bein' wrapped up like trash and thrown away. Most awful thing I ever heard of.”

“It is,” I agreed.

“Well, I need to let you get some rest. You want anything before I move the van?”

“No, and thanks again, Bud. I really appreciate it.”

He waved my thanks away with a smile and went outside. I could hear the van pull around back. A few minutes later, I heard Bud open and close the kitchen door. Then came the sound of his tools clanking as he started to work.

Muffin jumped up on the couch and found a comfortable place to snuggle up next to me. I was happy to have his company. Ignoring the magazines, I picked up the Sherlock Holmes book and opened it to the first story. I'd never read anything like it before and was soon entrenched in the stories of Holmes, Doctor Watson, and the evil Professor Moriarty.

About forty-five minutes later, I heard a faint knock on the front door. Bud was doing some drilling in the kitchen, and I knew he couldn't hear it. I gingerly swung my legs around until I could stand up. Each step I took was painful. It only took a few steps before I could see who was at the door by looking through the front window.

A tall figure dressed in black stood on the front porch.

John Lapp.

I turned too quickly,
trying to get away from the window before he saw me. My socks slid on the wooden floor, and I felt myself falling. Although I tried to put out my arms for protection, I hit the floor hard. Excruciating pain shot through me in waves. I heard the drilling noise stop, and I tried to call out for Bud, but I could barely get a squeak out.

Behind me, I heard the doorknob rattling. John was trying to get in. Had he come after me? Not knowing that Bud was here? I tried again to call Bud's name, but unless he'd been a few inches from me, there was no way for him to hear me. Racked with pain and out of desperation, I did the only thing I could think of. I wriggled over to the tray Hope had set on the edge of the coffee table, grabbed the edge, and pulled it off. The water glass hit the floor and shattered. I had to put my hand over my eyes to protect them. Thankfully, it worked. I could hear Bud coming down the hall.

“Oh, my goodness, Callie,” he said when he came in. “What happened?”

Gasping for breath, I tried to explain about John Lapp.

“Let's get you back on the couch, then I'll have a look,” Bud said.

I tried to tell him to leave me there and call the police, but the pain was so bad, I couldn't get the words out.

Bud's boots crunched on the broken glass. Then he knelt down next to me. “Honey, I'm gonna pick you up. I'm gonna try not to hurt you. Can you put your arms around my neck?”

All I could do was shake my head. I was certain that if I lifted my arms, the pain would be too much.

Gently, he slid his hands under me and began raising me off the floor. True to his word, he kept my body steady, protecting me from the agony that crouched, waiting for me to make a wrong move. Slowly he lowered me down to the couch. I sighed with relief once I was back in a comfortable position.

“You . . . you've got to call the police,” I whispered. “That man. He's the one the police are looking for.”

“What?” Bud said. “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“You okay now?”

I nodded again. “Muffin . . . the glass,” I croaked out. Although Muffin was still on the couch, I was afraid he'd jump down and cut his paws.

“I'll put him where he'll be safe until I can get this cleaned up,” Bud said. He scooped up the small dog and took him upstairs. I heard a door close.

Bud came down the stairs. “Muffin's in the bedroom, Callie. He's fine.” He walked over to the front door. I could hear him turn the doorknob, and I tried to call out to him. To tell him not to open the door. If John had the strength to overpower and choke several women, maybe he could overpower Bud. It was true that Bud was strong, but he was also older
and out of shape. He was probably no match for John. I attempted to get his attention again. This time, my voice was stronger, but Bud didn't seem to be listening. I could hear the door open slowly. Although I wanted to pull myself up so I could see what was happening, I couldn't bring myself to try it. The pain was too great.

I closed my eyes as the door opened, and I felt the cold air rush in. I heard Bud say something, but then the door closed. There was silence for quite a while. Finally, I heard the door open again.

“What's going on?” I asked. I sounded weak and frightened—which I was. “Where are you, Bud?”

“I'm right here, honey,” he said, walking over to where I lay. “There ain't no one out there, Callie. Maybe you was dreamin' about the man at the door.”

I shook my head as frustrated tears rolled down my cheeks. “He was there. I saw him. You've got to call the sheriff, Bud. I mean it. You've got to phone him right now.”

“Okay, Callie. If you want me to, I'll get ahold of him.”

I sobbed, happy he was going to get us some help.

“I'll go call him, then come back and clean up this mess. Everything will be all right. Don't you worry, okay?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Bud.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, which was a mistake because it hurt. Just breathing hurt. I hoped I hadn't done any further damage when I fell. I spotted the bottle of pain pills on the table. But now I didn't have anything to swallow them with. At that moment, relief from the pain seemed more important than worrying about water so I tossed two pills into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed them. The bitter taste made me shiver and gag. I rested in the knowledge
that in a few minutes, I'd feel better. Right now, though, knowing where John was seemed much more important. Was he gone or was he trying to get in another way? Maybe he'd realized I wasn't alone and left. But what if he hadn't? What if he was still out there? I wished the sky wasn't so dark. It was like night outside. Much easier for him to hide in the dark.

I waited patiently for Bud to return. What was taking so long? The room seemed to be growing colder, but the fire in the fireplace was still going strong. Suddenly, a thought struck me that took my breath away. The cold air was coming from the kitchen. Was the back door open? What did that mean? Fear gripped me with tight fingers. Why would Bud go outside on a day like this? And why would he leave the door open?

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “Help me. Please help me.”

I knew I had to get up and go to the kitchen. The phone was there, and I had to have help. Had John lured Bud outside? Was Bud still alive? Not trusting my feet, I rolled off the couch and onto the floor. I would have to crawl to the kitchen. There was no other choice. I brushed the broken glass out of the way. The last thing I needed was to cut myself again. My knees were still healing from the last time I'd crawled on shards of glass.

Praying softly, I slowly made my way to the kitchen. Sure enough, the back door was wide open. Bud was nowhere to be seen. First, I crawled to the door and shut it. Then I pulled myself up with the doorknob and pushed the lock shut. At least now no one could get in. I dragged myself along the counter, using it to support most of my weight. When I reached the phone, I cried with relief, but my joy
was short-lived. I put the receiver to my ear and discovered it wasn't working. I hung it up and tried again. Silence. It was obvious I wasn't going to get any help from the dead instrument.

What could I do? I looked out the kitchen window and saw Noah's damaged truck sitting next to Bud's van. It still looked wrecked, but I remembered Noah saying he'd gotten it running. I'd noticed a basket on the counter with keys in it, so I looked inside and found a ring with a large key. Could that be for the truck? I'd never driven a motor vehicle, but I'd watched Lizzie and Noah several times. Surely it couldn't be that hard.

I grabbed the key and made it to the back door. Even though the truck wasn't that far from the house, I had no idea how to get to it. I was standing next to the broom closet, so I opened it and found a push broom. Although it was a little long, I was able to put the broom end under my arm and use the handle like a crutch. Going outside in my stocking feet, without a coat, would be uncomfortable, but I had no other choice. John could show up at any moment.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Then I grabbed the side of the door and turned backward, putting my feet on the steps while holding myself up. The pain was there, but thanks to the pills, it was dull and manageable. I held on to the doorframe as long as I could, but I finally had to let go and use the crutch. Thankfully, I stayed on my feet. I began moving across the snow-covered ground as quickly as I could, trying to reach the mangled truck before John could find me. I noticed a long cord lying on the snow. The phone line. It had obviously been cut. My feet felt like blocks of ice, and my body shivered from the cold and the wind.

I finally reached the truck with no sign of John, but the heavy cloud cover made it hard to see more than a few yards. Maybe he was lurking in the shadows, getting ready to pounce. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. My plan was to lock the doors as soon as I got inside so that John couldn't get to me. Once I was locked in, out of the elements, I would be safe. But as I took hold of the steering wheel in an attempt to pull myself inside, I felt hands on my shoulders. I screamed and tried to wrestle away. The twisting hurt so much I felt myself go down. Strong arms grabbed me and kept me from falling.

“Callie. Callie, it's me. What are you doin' out here?”

I looked up to see Bud's concerned face staring down at me.

“Oh, Bud. I . . . I thought . . .”

“You thought I was that man you're afraid of. But it's just me.” He took off his coat and wrapped it around me, taking away the broom and picking me up in one fell swoop. He carried me back into the house and put me back on the couch.

“Why in the world would you go outside in the snow like that, Callie?” he asked. “You could have really injured yourself.”

“You . . . you disappeared. I thought John Lapp had attacked you.”

“So you planned to drive and get help?”

I nodded.

“Don't look like you would have gotten too far. That truck is a mess.”

I jumped as a twinge of pain rushed through me. “Noah got it running,” I said breathlessly.

“You ever driven a truck?”

“No.”

“That's what I thought.” He leaned down and helped me take off his coat. “You get yourself under this quilt and warm up.”

I allowed him to pull off my wet socks and cover me with the quilt. Then he went over and added another log to the fire. The rush of warmth felt wonderful.

“D-did you find John?”

“No. No one there.”

I frowned at him. “But I
did
see him. He was standing right there on the front porch.”

“Well, he ain't out there now.”

“But the phone line . . .”

Bud turned around to stare at me. “What about the phone line?”

“Someone pulled it out. It's lying on the ground out back. Didn't you see it?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. Maybe you imagined that too.”

I shook my head slowly. Could the pills really be affecting me that much? I didn't have much experience with narcotics. My eyes fell on the Sherlock Holmes book still lying on the table. For some reason, the story I was reading when I'd heard the knock on the door jumped into my mind. Something about a suspect saying something he shouldn't have known. His comment had given him away. Suddenly, I remembered something Bud had said, and I looked at him in horror.

“The red cedar trees,” I said, almost in a whisper. “No one knew about that. Or that the victims were wrapped in plastic. You mentioned the trees earlier, and a while ago you made a comment about the women being wrapped up like trash.”

Bud lowered himself down slowly to the hearth and sat there, staring at me.

“You. It's you . . .”

Bud raised an eyebrow as he studied me. “I don't know what you're thinkin', Callie. Maybe you're just in a drug-induced haze. Don't know what's real and what isn't.”

“Where's John?” I asked. My voice sounded like it was coming from far away, and my heart pounded so hard I could feel it.

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. “I took care of him. You don't have to worry about him no more.”

I blinked back tears, determined to maintain my composure. “Is . . . is he dead?”

Bud shrugged. “If he ain't, he will be before long. Nice how he showed up. I didn't know the police suspected him. I appreciate you tellin' me.”

“You killed those women.”

“Now, why in the world would you say that?” The blaze from the fire highlighted his face, making him look demonic. As the flames danced, the light shifted across Bud's broad face.

A voice inside screamed at me to shut up, but I knew it was too late for that. Maybe it was the pills, but I couldn't seem to control my thoughts—or my mouth. “Why would you kill John? He's no threat to you.”

“I had no intention of doin' anything to him until you told me the police thought he might be the murderer. Then an idea just kind of presented itself. The way I got it figured, your friend, Mr. Lapp, broke in while I was workin' in the kitchen. He snuck up behind me and knocked me out. Then he killed you. I woke up and chased him outside. He tried
to kill me, and I defended myself. Sadly, he died. By the time I could get help, it was too late for you and Brother Lapp.”

“But why, Bud?”

He shrugged. “Things are gettin' a little too hot. This gives me some time. At least until they figure out John couldn't have done it.”

“The DNA won't match.”

“Nah, it won't. I'm sure other facts won't line up as well. But I'll be gone by then. Already decided to move on. Things got . . . messed up here. Someone's puttin' their fingers in the pot and stirrin' up trouble.” He gave me a morose smile. “I didn't have any intention of hurtin' you, Callie. But after I went outside to move my van, I realized what I'd said. About the plastic and all. I realized it was only a matter of time before you realized it.”

“But you mentioned the red cedar trees in front of Roger and Noah. They'll remember and you'll be caught.”

“Can't believe I slipped up like that. Must be outta practice.” He shook his head slowly. “That's why I gotta misdirect them for a while so I can get away. I'm sorry. I really am, but this is the only chance I got.”

It was clear to me that Bud Gruber was insane. It was that simple and that complicated, all at the same time. Unless God himself decided to save me, I wasn't going to make it out of this house alive.

“I . . . I just don't understand,” I said, hoping to stall him for a while. A quick look at the clock revealed it was way too early for Noah to return, but he was my only chance. I had to try.

“I could give you lots of reasons, but you wouldn't understand them,” Bud said softly. “If you don't mind, I won't give
you a laundry list of what made me take what they call
the road less traveled.
I just wait until I see someone who appeals to me. Nothin' I can put my finger on.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “It ain't because my mama didn't love me or nothin' like that. Them psychologists think they got it all figured out, but they don't know what they're talkin' about.” He frowned and seemed almost puzzled. “I tried for years to understand my compulsion, but I never did.