BOBBY HALVERSON HEARD THE BUZZ of the intercom on his desk. With a sigh he pushed aside the files for the case he had been working on. Paperwork wasn’t his cup of tea, especially when it involved Randy Culberson’s new shed being eighteen inches closer to the street than the setback allowed, which was a cause of great offense to Maxine Schuster, who lived directly across the road.
“What is it, Jill?”
“Dutch Peterson on line one.”
“Thanks.”
Bobby picked up the phone. It was always good to hear from the best mechanic in Wayne County. Dutch was getting a little slower now, but he could still make a tractor run like an Indy 500 racecar.
“Dutch, old buddy, what’s up?”
The voice on the other end of the line sounded troubled. “Hey, Bobby, I think I better tell you about something.”
“What’s that, Dutch?”
“Well, I been fixing the van of a hippie kid who came in here a few days ago with a damaged tie-rod. Seems he bent it when he ran up on a curb to keep from running over someone.”
“And…”
“The someone he almost ran over was Jenny Springer.”
“So did Jenny get hurt? I don’t understand.”
Bobby could hear Dutch sigh. “Let me finish, hoss,” Dutch said. “This kid picked up his van and left town today. I seen him driving out.”
“Probably a good thing,” Bobby said. “We don’t have a lot of patience with hippie types.”
“Yeah, but, Bobby, Jenny was with him when he left.”
“What?”
“Jenny Springer was with this kid. His name was, uh….Johnny…Johnny…wait a minute, I got the bill right here. Oh yeah, Johnny Hershberger.”
“Hershberger! You say he was a hippie, not an Amish kid?”
“Let me finish,” Dutch said. “When I saw Jenny this morning, she was dressed in regular clothes. She weren’t wearing her little hat either. And her hair was short! I almost didn’t recognize her. And I think the boy got in some kind of trouble while he was here because Bull Halkovich dropped by to make sure I expedited his departure from town. What do you think it means, hoss?”
“I don’t know, Dutch. I’ll call Reuben and check it out. Thanks for letting me know.”
Bobby hung up the phone. Every day since he and Reuben had lunch together, he had been thinking about Jenny. She was certainly an impulsive girl—and now this. Something bad must have happened between her and Reuben. He clicked the intercom button.
“Yes, Sheriff?”
“Jill, can you call Hank Lowenstein for me and ask him if he can go next door and bring Reuben or Jerusha over to the phone?”
“Right away.”
Bobby put down the phone and waited. In about ten minutes the intercom buzzed.
“Yeah, Jill.”
“It’s Reuben Springer.”
Bobby grabbed the phone. “Reuben, I didn’t expect to hear from you. Thought you’d be out working.”
“Not today, Bobby.” There was a great weariness behind Reuben’s voice.
“Reuben, what’s going on? Is Jenny in trouble?”
There was a pause. Reuben was a very private man, and Bobby knew he didn’t like to air his dirty laundry. “Come on, Reuben, this is Bobby. What’s going on?”
“Jenny’s gone,” Reuben said. “We had a fight, and we said some terrible things to each other. I got really angry with her, and she laid into me.”
“Was it what you talked to me about? About her birth mother?”
“Well, yes, but there was something else. She told us that she had fallen in love with a boy, an Englischer. We had to do something, so I had the bishop come…”
“What did you do to Jenny, Reuben?”
There was another long pause. Bobby thought Reuben was stonewalling him, but when Reuben answered, Bobby could hear the pain in his voice.
“Jenny was placed under a temporary bann, Bobby.”
“You mean she went under the meidung, the shunning?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Bobby breathed out a long breath. “Well, Reuben, I hate to say this, but I think you overreacted, and now it’s backfired on you.”
“What do you mean?” Reuben asked.
“Dutch Peterson saw Jenny leaving town with the young man she told you about. They were headed east.”
“Apparently they left town this morning. But here’s the strange part. Dutch said she wasn’t wearing her Amish clothes. And her hair was cut off.”
The silence from Reuben’s end was deafening. Then Reuben spoke. “Bobby, can you help me with this?”
“I’m not sure what I can do, Reuben. Jenny’s nineteen. She can basically do whatever she wants. Unless the kid she’s with has a record or some warrants, I have to stay out of it.”
“Can you at least check on that?”
“Sure, Reuben, I’ll make some calls, and I’ll talk to Bull. I guess he had some kind of a run-in with the boy. By the way, his name is Hershberger.”
“Hershberger?” There was genuine surprise in Reuben’s voice.
“Yeah, Johnny Hershberger,” Bobby replied. “I found that a bit odd too. All the Hershbergers I know are Amish. Look, Reuben, I’ll find out what I can, and then I’ll either come over or have Hank come bring you to the phone.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
The line went dead. Bobby flicked the intercom switch again.
“Yes, sir,” Jill said.
“Is Bull around?”
“Sure, he’s in the break room grabbing a cup of coffee.”
“Have him come in here, would you please? And have him bring his report on Johnny Hershberger.”
In a few minutes there was a knock, and then Bull Halkovich came in carrying his ticket book.
“What’s up, Bobby?”
“Did you run into a kid named Johnny Hershberger in the past few days?”
“Yeah, the hippie kid with the freak-o bus.”
“Freak-o?”
“Yeah, well, it was all painted and had pictures of weird guys pasted on it. A regular sideshow at the circus.”
“What do you have on him?”
Bull leafed through the ticket book.
“Here we go. The van had New York plates, 6S-5844. I ran them but didn’t get any hits, so I let him go. He said he was a musician. He’d been in San Francisco, but he was on his way to join a band in Nashville. I…uh, I encouraged him to be on his way.”
“You mean you ran him out of town?” Bobby said with a chuckle.
“Well, sort of. He bent something in his suspension running up on a curb. That’s the funny part. He did it to keep from hitting Jenny Springer, and I guess she gave him an earful. I sent him over to Dutch to get it fixed. Dutch had the van for two or three days. What’s it all about, Bobby?”
“Dutch called me to say he had seen the Hershberger kid headed out of Apple Creek. Jenny Springer was with him.”
“Jenny? That’s strange. What would she be doing with that weirdo?”
“I’m not sure. I know you didn’t get a hit on the plates, but our resources are a little limited here. You said he was coming from San Francisco? Would you mind calling out there and seeing what you can come up with? And maybe check the registration on those plates again.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Bull picked up his pad and left.
Bobby sat tapping a pencil on the top of his desk.
The three-hour drive back to Wooster had been uneventful. Johnny was driving, and Sal sat in the passenger seat. Sal hadn’t spoken two words the whole time. Maxie was sitting in the back. He had also been silent, but the bulge under his coat spoke volumes. Johnny’s thoughts were in turmoil. Jenny was clearly in danger, and he could do nothing. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Silently he began to pray.
God, if You exist, I’m asking for Your help—not for me, but for Jenny. She’s in real trouble, and I can’t help her. I need to get away from these men. Please help me. I don’t know who else to ask.
After he prayed, Johnny felt his heartbeat slow down. The beads of sweat on his forehead dried, and he felt a strange calm. And then he knew what to do.
Bobby was thinking about Jenny and what kind of a disagreement would make her leave Reuben and Jerusha. It must have been a dilly, he thought just as the intercom buzzed, startling him.
“Yeah, Jill.”
“It’s me, Boss,” Bull said. “I called the boys out in Frisco and got some information you need to hear.”
“Come on in, Bull.”
In a minute, Bull came in holding a notepad with some handwritten notes on it.
“What’s up?”
“I checked with the San Francisco sheriff’s department, and it seems Johnny boy is a wanted man.”
“Really?” Bobby asked.
“Yep. He was involved in a shootout at a motel just outside of San Francisco about a week ago. I guess one of the residents at the motel was awakened by gunfire and peeked out his window. He saw a hippie van just like Hershberger’s tearing out of the parking lot, and shortly after that another car went after it. They left a dead guy in the parking lot.”
“How do they know it was Hershberger’s van?” Bobby asked.
“The witness just happened to be an ex-cop. He was able to describe the van in detail. He also remembered both license plates, out of habit I guess. Sure enough, the plates on the van were from New York—6S-5844. The other plates were newer but also from New York—AX-3636. The van is registered to Ronald Hershberger of Levittown, New York. The other car—a Lincoln—is registered to Moretti Trading Company, Brooklyn, New York. Looks like our boy is involved with some bad people.”
“Bull, put out an APB on the van and the Lincoln in case they’re still in the county. I’ll call Emmett over in Stark County and have him do the same there.”
“Right, Bobby. I’m on it.”
Johnny drove into Wooster in the early afternoon. Sal finally spoke.
“Okay, Mr. Candyman, where’s the dough?”
“At a farm outside of town. I only remember the street I came in on, and I don’t know this town so I have to backtrack my way out of town. I have to go down Walnut and then out Liberty.”
Johnny turned on North and headed west. In a few blocks he saw what he was looking for on the right—the big brown building that housed the sheriff’s office. He drove slowly by, hoping. Bull, if you’re ever going to be observant, now’s the time!
Johnny turned south on Walnut and then turned left around the block, hoping to make one more pass before Sal and Maxie caught on.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Sal asked suspiciously.
“I turned the wrong way back there. I have to go north out of town on Walnut. Just bear with me.”
Johnny felt Maxie’s gun barrel against his neck.
“Just don’t try anything funny,” Maxie said.
Johnny turned onto North and went by the sheriff’s office once more. As they did, a sheriff’s patrol car passed them going the other way. Johnny’s hopes rose, but the officer kept driving.
Then they turned north on Walnut and headed out of town. Johnny’s heart sank.
Once again the intercom buzzed.
“Yeah, what?”
“Boss, you won’t believe it, but our boy just drove through town. Tony Garrison was on Walnut Street, and the van passed him going the other way. It looked to Tony like they were headed north, so he went up to the intersection, turned around to follow them and called me pronto. He said Jenny’s not with the kid, but there are two men in the van with Hershberger. What do we do?”
“Tell Tony to stay with them but far enough back so they don’t catch on. Grab your cruiser and your shotgun and meet me out front. We’re going hunting.”
Johnny drove slowly out toward the farm. He knew without a doubt that as soon as he handed over the money, Sal would kill him and probably bury him right there. No one would ever know. And Jenny would surely be killed too. Desperation grew in Johnny’s heart.
What do I do now, God?
He was turning onto 585 when he looked in his rearview mirror and saw flashing lights.
His heart jumped. It was a sheriff’s cruiser.
Sal put his gun in Johnny’s ribs.
“Pull over but don’t say nothin’. If you want to live and you don’t want to see this cop dead, play it straight.”
Johnny pulled over and waited, but the cruiser just sat behind them. Then two more sheriff’s cruisers pulled up across the road, and another roared past and took up a position in front of the van. Bull got out of one of the cruisers, and a smaller man who was carrying a rifle got out of the other. The two took up positions behind their cars with guns leveled. A voice came over the bullhorn from the cruiser behind them.
“You, in the van. Put your hands in plain sight and step out of the car.”
Sal swore and shoved the gun in Johnny’s stomach. “Roll down the window.”
Johnny rolled it down and Sal shouted, “If you don’t want me to kill this guy, let us go.”
“Bull, they have Jenny!” Johnny shouted.
Sal grabbed Johnny’s head with his free hand and turned it so the police could clearly see his gun now pressed against the back of Johnny’s head. Johnny closed his eyes.
“Back off, Sheriff!” Sal screamed. “We’re driving out of here. Do what I say or the kid dies and so does the girl!”
“Throw the gun out and step out of the car,” came the voice from the bullhorn. The sheriff with the rifle took aim at the car.
“Okay, Sheriff, I warned you!” Sal shouted.
He pulled back the hammer of the pistol with his thumb. Suddenly there was a crack of a rifle and Johnny felt something hot zip by his ear. It struck Sal’s hand, and the gun flew away. Sal screamed and grabbed his injured hand. Maxie leaned forward, threw his gun out the window, and raised his hands.
“Now climb out and lay facedown on the ground. All of you.”
The three men climbed out and stretched out facedown on the ground in front of the van.
“Lock your hands behind your head.”
Johnny heard footsteps running toward them, and then strong hands jerked him to his feet. He found himself staring into the eyes of a very determined-looking man. The badge on his coat said “Sheriff.” When the man spoke to him, Johnny could tell that he wanted an answer, fast.
“Where’s Jenny?”
A half-hour later a police cruiser pulled up in front of the Springer home. Bobby Halverson got out, walked up on the porch, and knocked on the door. Jerusha Springer answered, her face pale and drawn.
“Bobby, what is it?”
“Hello, Jerusha,” Bobby said. “Is Reuben home too?”
“He’s out at the barn. Come in while I go fetch him in.”
Bobby went inside and stood with his hat held in front of him while Jerusha went out the back door to find Reuben. He glanced around. It had been a while since he had visited the Springer home. The last time was last Thanksgiving. Bobby remembered it as a pleasant time. The conversation had turned to another Thanksgiving during the Great Storm of 1950, when Jerusha had found Jenny and he and Reuben had rescued both of them from the storm. The Springer family had been close-knit and loving that day. Obviously a lot had happened since then.
Just then Reuben came in with Jerusha. He walked up and gripped Bobby’s outstretched hand.
“Guten tag, Bobby. You have news?”
“I’m afraid it’s not good, Reuben. We found the Hershberger boy, but Jenny wasn’t with him. He was with a couple of tough characters with guns. I haven’t sorted out all the details yet, but the Hershberger kid told me a pretty troubling story about a drug deal gone wrong and fifty thousand dollars the bad guys were trying to get back.”
“But what about Jenny?” Jerusha cried.
Bobby paused. “She’s being held captive until the guys we captured come back with the money. It doesn’t look good. This brand of criminals doesn’t like to leave any witnesses. I’m sure once they have their money…”
Jerusha gasped and sank down in a chair. Reuben took Bobby by the arm with a steel grip.
“Are you telling me that Jenny is in danger of being killed?”
“It doesn’t look good, Reuben. She’s in danger.”
“What can we do?” Reuben asked as he let go of Bobby’s arm.
“Our only hope is to get the guys we caught to talk. They need to tell us where Jenny is, and then we have to try to get her back. I’ve got them down at the station, but as of now, they aren’t talking. Johnny Hershberger has told us everything he knows, but I’m not sure how to proceed from here.”
“Bobby, are they going to kill my girl?” Jerusha asked.
“I don’t know, Jerusha. It’s not a good situation.”
Jerusha stared at her husband. She got up slowly and turned to leave.
“Where are you going, wife?” Reuben asked.
“I must pray for Jenny. It’s the only hope I have left.”