Page 90 of The Hidden One

“Stop!”

I dart to the stairs; they’re steel with pipe rails. I take them two at a time to the top. Windows to my right. Glass broken out. Rain and wind pelt me as I ascend the steps. At the top, I go through a doorway. Wood floor littered with debris. Machinery to my left. Not many places to hide. Where the hell did he go?

I sidle toward the machinery. My .38 in my right hand. The butt slick against my palm. Maglite in my left. Wrists crossed. “Come out and talk to me!”

A figure emerges from the shadows. I shift my light, blind him. Recognition kicks. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” I say.

Henry Stoltzfus raises his hands, shields his eyes from my beam with his left. “Don’t shoot me.”

No weapon in sight. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one tucked into his waistband. It doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

“Are you armed?” I ask.

“No.”

I don’t lower my pistol. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at me. Eyes wide. Mouth open.

“What were you doing at the Hershberger farm?” I ask.

No answer.

“Did you start the fire?”

He raises his gaze to mine. “I did what I had to do.”

If I were in uniform, I’d get him on the ground and cuff him to secure the situation and keep both of us safe. Of course, I’m not in uniform; my zip ties are in the Explorer.

“Do not move,” I tell him.

Never taking my eyes from his, I set my Maglite on the floor, the beam pointed toward him. Keeping my .38 steady, center mass, I work my cell from my pocket and hit redial with my thumb.

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency.”

“This is Kate Burkholder. I’m at the old mill with Henry Stoltzfus. I think he’s involved in the fire at the Hershberger farm. Send a deputy right away. It’s an emergency.”

The dispatcher speaks, but I hit End, drop my cell back into my pocket.

I look at Henry and frown. “This might be a good time for you to start talking.” I have to raise my voice to be heard over the pound of rain against the roof, the roar of water cascading over the dam outside, and the spattering of water onto the floor through a hole in the roof.

“You can’t possibly understand,” he says.

“Try me.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he tells me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I knew you were going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” I ask, more gently.

He emits a sob, looks around as if searching for a route of escape. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Feet restless. Hands raised. Acting squirrelly.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I tell him.

He squeezes his eyes closed. He’s trembling now. His face is wet; I can’t tell if it’s from the rain or if he’s crying, but he’s struggling with some internal demon.

“Henry, I’m the best friend you’ve got right now,” I say softly. “Stay calm. Let me help you.”

His gaze meets mine. In its depths, I see a tangled mass of pain and desperation and hopelessness.