Page 37 of Sworn to Silence
Stone-faced, Rummel held his gaze. “We’re counting on it.”
Full darkness has fallen by the time I leave the police station. The night sky is so clear I can see the Big Dipper. The weatherman promised temperatures would plummet to below zero by morning. Not a good night to be prowling an old grain elevator looking for a corpse.
I finished the press release and handed it off to Lois on my way out. She was gracious enough to stay late for some final editing, and agreed to fax it to Steve Ressler before heading home to her husband and children and the kind of normal life I can only imagine.
I need a shower and a few hours of sleep. I should have already questioned Donny Beck. Those things are going to have to wait until Jacob and I search the grain elevator fifteen miles away in Coshocton County. If we find Daniel Lapp’s remains, I’ll know without a doubt I’ve got a copycat on my hands. If we do not find any remains, I’ll know Lapp survived. The focus of my investigation will shift, and I’ll begin working the case from that perspective.
I turn into the gravel lane of Jacob’s farm to find the windows dark. Parking in the same spot I did earlier in the day, I start toward the door. I’m midway there when I see Jacob striding toward me, holding a lantern of all things.
“I’ve got flashlights,” I say.
“Quiet,” he snaps in Pennsylvania Dutch, then douses the lantern and sets it in the snow.
I wonder if he’s sneaking out of the house. “You didn’t tell Irene?”
His head jerks toward me, and I realize he’s not sure of the meaning behind my question. “She knows nothing about this.”
I ruminate on that as we start toward the Explorer. I’ve always wondered if he told her what happened all those years ago. The way she looks at me sometimes ...
We climb into the Explorer. Tension fills the cab as I start the engine and head down the driveway. I sense an array of emotions radiating from my brother, the most powerful being resentment. He shouldn’t be riding in the car with me, especially since I’m under thebann. But I sense that isn’t the main source of his discontent. He doesn’t want to help and begrudges me asking him for it. I don’t understand that. Once upon a time we were close. He was loving and protective and would have done anything for me. All of that changed the day I shot Daniel Lapp.
“I saw Sarah today,” he says after a moment.
Sarah is our sister, the middle child. Married with a baby on the way, she lives on a farm a few miles away. “How is she?” I ask.
“Frightened.” He gives me a pointed look.
“You told her about Lapp?”
“She heard the talk in town. She is afraid, Katie. She believes Lapp is alive and angry with us for what we did.”
I’d wanted to be the one to tell her. I knew the murders would frighten Sarah. But I haven’t had time to pay her a visit. “I’ll talk to her.”
“She is afraid he will harm us. She is afraid for her unborn child.” He grimaces. “For you.”
I’d known she would worry about me. Sixteen years ago, she watched me come very close to unraveling. “You know I’m fine,” I say.
Jacob nods. “She wants you to tell your English police what happened.”
I nearly drive into the ditch. “No.”
“They do not need to know all of it. Just that Lapp could be alive and killing.”
“No, Jacob. We don’t tell anyone.”
“She is frightened, Katie.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
He looks out the window, then back at me. “I do not believe Daniel is alive. But if he is...” Shrugging, he lets the words trail. “Maybe Sarah is right.”
“I’ll handle this,” I snap.
“How can you when you do not know where he is?”
“Hopefully, in a few hours we’ll know exactly where he is.”
Half an hour later I stop on a desolate stretch of road where railroad tracks bisect the snow-covered asphalt. Fifty yards to my left, the massive grain elevator juts from the earth like some primordial rock formation. I see triple concrete silos. A water tower tilts at a precarious angle. The original wooden structure flanks the rear and is slowly being devoured by the encroachment of the skeletal forest beyond. Front and center, the corrugated steel main building stands three stories tall, impossibly narrow at the top. The lack of proportion gives it the gangly appearance of some ugly waterfowl.
