“Jah, it is quite unusual. Since I am widowed, I was accustomed to seeing him every day, when he would come to care for my animals. I live close by. I have looked for him many times at his house, but this is the first I came to this cabin.” She gestured toward the back of the SUV, where her bike rested. “One person can travel only so far by bicycle.”
“Do you ride your bike often?” He felt his eyes narrowing into what felt like his customary expression during interrogations, and he quickly forced what he hoped was simply an inquisitive look. He knew from his grandparents that the Amish were not fond of law enforcement, and he didn’t want her to stop talking. At least not until he had all the information he needed.
“Jah, it is easier sometimes than hitching up Molly, my horse. I live over on Five Pines Road, a couple of miles from here.”
“How long have you lived in Northern Indiana?”
“All my life.”
“And you said you were widowed? What about other family?”
“Nein. My daed and mamm died about three years ago, just a few days apart. Daed died of a massive heart attack, quite suddenly. A few days later, Mamm died of a broken heart. That is what the doctor said.” She took a deep breath and stared out the side window, seeming to refocus. “My husband was killed in an accident at work. That was two years ago. Now I only have my twin girls, Ruth and Rebekah. They are four.”
“Where are your twins now?”
“They are with my friend Sarah and her husband, Jed. I left them for a little while so I could go to mein bruder’s house. I needed to talk to him. To find out what struggle keeps him from his family and the church.”
He studied her profile, the drooping prayer kapp, the hair that had escaped and now trailed across her cheek, the fine lines around her eyes. She looked tired, exhausted even. Everything she said seemed genuine, and Adam relaxed in his seat ever so slightly. She may not be in cahoots with the shooter, but she still might be a helpful source of information. “Tell me about Sarah and Jed. Who are they, and how do you know them?”
“Sarah has been a gut friend since she moved here from Lancaster County several years ago. She was a widow also and had a little girl, and we would help each other out. A few months ago, she married Jedediah Miller. He used to be a police officer from Fort Wayne, but now he is Amish. He works at the same sawmill where my husband did.”
He felt a muscle spasm in his jaw, the same one that ticked when he was trying to figure out a case, and he rubbed to soothe it. “If he’s Amish, then there’s no way I could call him. Or does your church allow telephones?”
“Nein. There is a phone shanty not far from their house, but if you are taking me home, you can meet him. I need to pick up my twins, if you are willing.”
“Fine. I need to check in with the sheriff, and then we’ll be on our way.”
He slipped out of the car and closed the door gently, so as not to shake her up further. Katie seemed to be made of tough stuff, but everyone had a limit to their endurance. The slamming of the heavy car door would only add to her jitteriness.
The scene in and around the cabin was intense and busy, but that was the way Adam liked his work. He leaned against the driver’s side door and pulled his pocketknife and a small piece of wood out of his pocket. Whittling helped him think, and right now he especially needed to concentrate. A ring of smugglers out of Chicago had expanded, ICE believed, toward Cincinnati. That would take them right through the Amish communities of Northern Indiana. He hadn’t had much success in his investigation thus far, and now this Amish woman landed right in the middle. What should he think about it? Where did she fit?
“Troyer!” Sheriff Moore, a man with a thick torso and a jovial demeanor, sauntered toward him. The sheriff’s easygoing attitude seemed to be appreciated by the Amish, who apparently had had some difficulty with their last sheriff, but he was a little too laid-back for Adam’s preference. Still, the man was well-liked and got the job done. “Find out anything?” He nodded his head toward Katie in the SUV.
“Not much. You know her?” Adam took a few steps toward the sheriff as he scraped his knife over the little piece of wood. It would soon be a squirrel, a twin to the one that already resided in his pocket.
“No. Haven’t met her yet.”
“She says she’s friends with a Sarah and Jedediah Miller. Says Jed’s former law enforcement from Fort Wayne.”
“Yeah, he’s out of it now. Decided he wanted the plain life.”
“How’d he end up Amish?” Adam could appreciate a lack of complication as much as the next guy, but leaving electricity behind seemed a little drastic. Why couldn’t he just have a sticky bun with his Saturday-morning coffee and old-fashioned newspaper?
“From what I’ve heard, he was working undercover and about to testify against a ring of counterfeiters when he was found out. Had a snowmobile accident, hit his head on a rock and woke up with amnesia. Sarah found him and took care of him. He’s fine now. A real upstanding guy.” The sheriff swiped a hand across his brow and adjusted his hat.
The more he heard, the more Adam thought Katie’s story was legitimate. There didn’t seem to be any other way to explain her presence at the cabin. If her brother was involved in whatever nefarious activity was occurring in the area, she could be a helpful asset. She certainly seemed concerned enough about her brother, despite his wayward ways. He had to take her home anyway, so he’d have a few words with this Jed.
Adam nodded back toward his SUV. “The bullet grazed her leg, so she won’t be riding her bike anytime soon. I’ll take her to her friends’ house to pick up her twins and see if I can get a private word with Jed.”
“He’ll tell you what he can.” The sheriff plucked a long piece of foxtail grass and stuck the stem between his teeth.
“Good. I’d appreciate being kept in the loop with what you find here.”
“We don’t hope for much. So far we’ve pulled a bullet out of a tree trunk. We’ll look for a match, but I’m doubtful at being able to find the weapon. I’ll keep in touch.”
“Thanks.” Adam turned back to the Tahoe, determined to get a little more of Katie’s story from another law enforcement officer, even if he was Amish now.
THREE
As the crow flies, the drive would probably have been only a few minutes, and that certainly would have been safer. But the back roads through the hills and hollows of Northern Indiana Amish country took a bit more of a winding route. Adam found he couldn’t get over thirty miles per hour in most stretches. Slowing down for a couple of buggies didn’t help either.
The painfully slow speed also didn’t help his anxiety at the shooter still being on the loose. Would he come back for Katie? Why was he shooting at her in the first place? Would he go after a law enforcement officer? Some criminals did, and some didn’t. Adam just didn’t know enough about who this shooter might be to be able to determine his probable next move.
He tore his attention from the rearview mirror and checked both side mirrors. Through the drive, all had been clear. As he crested a hill, an Amish homestead came into view.
“There. On the right.” Katie leaned forward as if it would help her get to her children faster, her hand on the cane.
The property wasn’t large, but the whitewashed house was sizeable, the barn a cheerful red. Colorful flowers—marigolds, maybe—dotted the edge of the house and the barn. A large vegetable garden filled a back corner. As he approached, a malamute bounded forward, tail wagging and tongue lolling.
Memories of childhood time spent with Amish grandparents struggled to free themselves from the dusty corners of his mind. His grossmammi with a plate full of oatmeal cookies and a pitcher of warm milk that was fresh from their dairy cow. His grossdaadi sitting on the porch, showing him the finer points of whittling, while his cousins swung from the hayloft. Adam swallowed hard and shoved the memories back to their places. His father’s
rumspringa and continuing alcoholism had altered not only his father’s life but the lives of his future children, as well. And after his father’s and brother’s untimely deaths in the automobile accident, those remembrances didn’t deserve the freedom to roam unhindered through his thoughts. The only way to assuage the grief was to maintain his laser-like focus on his job and the justice for victims that he sought every day.
Adam pulled into the lane, and a man emerged from the house, placing a straw hat on his head as he approached the vehicle. Adam opened the car door and hopped out. He smiled as warmly as he could and raised a hand in greeting, palm open and facing out, as he jogged around the front of the Tahoe. The man’s countenance was expressionless until Adam helped Katie down from the SUV. As she emerged from behind the door, a wide smile split the man’s face, and a woman with three girls, all in identical blue Amish dresses and white starched prayer kapps, stepped out of the house.
“Katie, are you all right?”
“Jah, Jed.” She leaned heavily on Adam’s forearm. Grasping the cane, she stepped toward Jed but still held on to Adam’s arm.
The woman who must have been Sarah flew toward them. The three girls followed on her heels, all chattering at once.
“Ach, Katie! Where have you been? You are injured!”
“Mamm! Are you all right?”
“What happened, Mamm?”
Sarah frowned in Adam’s direction and took Katie’s arm from him as twin girls threw their arms around Katie’s waist. Both had the same shade of dark blond hair and the same pert nose, although one appeared to have a few more freckles than the other. Adorable seemed too blasé of a word to describe them.
“Liebchen! My loves!” Katie smiled broadly and shrugged at Adam as she tried to hug both twins with Sarah hanging on. “I will be fine, Sarah. I will tell you everything inside.”
He felt himself begin to trust her a little bit more as he observed Katie’s affection for her girls. She gently pulled her arm from Sarah, and, leaning on the cane, she tucked a stray hair back into one girl’s kapp and then ran her finger down the cheek of the other girl. A smile played about her lips as she seemed to relax. With a reflex honed from training and experience, Adam glanced around the yard and down the lane to make sure all was quiet. Then he stepped toward Jed.
“You must be Jedediah Miller. Sheriff Moore told me you’re retired from Fort Wayne PD.” He extended his hand, and they shook. “I’m Adam Troyer, special agent with Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Homeland Security.”
“Call me Jed. And yes, retired police officer.”
Adam felt his eyebrows scrunch together. “You don’t sound Amish, like Katie and Sarah.”
Jed smiled. “No. Most of my growing-up was in the Englisch world. I just took my vows to join the Amish church a few months ago, so I’m still learning. I imagine it’ll be a lifelong process.” He looked Adam up and down, the smile sliding off his face. “What’s your business here?”
Before Adam could respond, Sarah called from the house. Jed turned to wave and then spun back to Adam. “Before you can answer that, we’re required to head in the house for cookies and coffee. Or tea. Or milk. Whatever’s your pleasure. It’s the Amish way.”
In the house, Adam squeezed into a place at the long table and gobbled down three of the most delicious oatmeal cookies he had ever eaten. A twin leaned on either side of Katie as she told of going to her brother’s house and then to the cabin. All eyes widened at the mention of the gunman, and Jed nodded an acknowledgment to Adam.
“You must leave Ruth and Rebekah here overnight, then.” Sarah leaned forward to run a hand down Katie’s arm. “You will rest better.”
Katie paused before answering. “Danki. That would probably be best for my recovery.”
As he reached for a fourth cookie, Adam’s phone rang, the ringtone a loud gong in the quiet Amish house. “Excuse me,” he said softly and stepped outside the back door before answering.
The late afternoon sun was beginning to cast sleepy shadows across the property, shadows that, to Adam’s way of thinking, could hold danger. But Sheriff Moore’s voice filled his ear, and the best he could do was visually survey the perimeter.
“Yeah, Troyer? We got nothing. You said you wanted to be kept in the loop, but there’s nothin’ there. We pulled the bullet from the tree.”
“I knew that before I left the site.”
“Yeah, and there was nothing worth fingerprinting inside the cabin. Pretty bare in there. All rough wood surfaces, way too porous and too recessed to collect fingerprints. Even if I could find a print, it wouldn’t stick to the lift tape. There’s no way to lift a print in a wooden cabin.”
“So, we got nothing.”
“That’s what I said.”
The door closed behind him, and Adam turned to see Jed step outside. “Thanks anyway, Sheriff.” He pocketed his phone.
“Sheriff Moore is a good guy.” Jed hesitated. “Learn anything you can share?”
“No. Didn’t learn anything at all. I don’t know anything more about what happened today than Katie does, and you know that means the investigation is at a standstill.” Adam couldn’t share anything more with Jed, but he walked slowly around the house and toward the lane, surveying, as Jed fell in step beside him. The night air cooled his skin as he breathed deeply. “You might be able to help, though. What do you know about Katie’s brother, Timothy?”
“Probably nothing more than she told you. He’s a stand-up guy and an excellent furniture-maker. Then, a couple of months ago, he stops coming around. He’s not caring for his sister’s horse anymore, not coming to church services or visiting on the off Sundays. Basically he’s nowhere to be seen.”
“What about his customers? His business?” Adam looked up and down the road and then turned to walk back up the lane.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him to be able to ask him. I know that’s not helpful, but I don’t have any further information. It’s like he just disappeared.”
“But he didn’t leave the community? Quit being Amish? Did he and Katie have a falling-out?” The sun dipped behind the tree line, and the first fireflies of the evening began to flash. Darkness was fine when it worked in his favor and hid him, but it could be deadly when it concealed the enemy.
“No. He’s still around. There’s evidence of that. When I stop by, his dog is obviously cared for. His yard is kept. I’ve even seen wash on the line. But he’s never there.” Jed crossed his arms over his chest, a sign of resignation. “He’s there but not there.”
“So, he knows that you’re coming and takes off?”
“It seems so. I’ve thought of contacting an old buddy of mine in Fort Wayne, but I don’t have anything to tell him. There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of wrongdoing. He just doesn’t come around.”
“You’re still in contact with people from your...former life?” Adam just couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of leaving law enforcement to be a farmer or to build furniture, or whatever it was that Jed did to earn his living.
“Sure.”
“How did you ever decide to—”
“Join the Amish church?” Jed chuckled. “I had amnesia.”
“And then you remembered you were Amish?” Adam couldn’t keep the sarcastic tone from his voice. But to give up a career in law enforcement, a job that righted wrongs and fought for justice? He couldn’t understand that.
“No, but as I worked through the difficulties of my loss of memory, including my run-in with the guys who were after me, I realized I’d been wanting a more relaxed and slower pace to my life. I was ready to settle down, spend time raising a family, eat pie.” An easy smile stretched across his face.
It still wasn’t anything Adam could understand, although he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he admired the peace Jed seemed to have. He was ready to move on to the next topic. “What ab
out Katie? All she told me was that her brother is her only family left.”
“That’s probably about all you’re going to get as far as information goes. I haven’t known her long, but Sarah tells me Katie’s husband was killed in an accident at the sawmill. It’s been a struggle for her since, but we help as much as we can. And her brother has always been helpful, until just recently. The Amish take care of each other, especially families.”
“Would she be helpful in the investigation?”
“The Amish don’t like to mix with law enforcement. They keep to themselves as much as they can. Considering what the former sheriff was like, I can’t say I blame them all the time.” Jed shook his head and smiled. “I should say we keep to ourselves as much as possible. It’s only been a few months since I joined the church, and it’s going to take a while to get used to. With Katie, though, I think she honestly doesn’t know anything about her brother. Just give her time. The Amish believe patience is a virtue.”
Adam touched his weapon in its holster, his fingers rubbing on the smooth leather, and scanned the perimeter again. For too long he had been investigating a suspected ring of identity-document smugglers. Counterfeit passports and social security cards had been leaching out of the Chicago area and turning up all over the Midwest. Katie’s brother had been missing in action for two months, there but not there, and now it seemed that someone was willing to shoot at Katie. Patience may be a virtue, but he didn’t have time to wait. The sooner justice could be administered, the better.
* * *
Katie might be Amish but that didn’t mean she was naive. She noticed things. A lot of things. Facial expressions. Unspoken words. Nearly imperceptible gestures. She had clearly seen Adam’s skeptical look in her direction when he had stepped out to take his telephone call. His brown eyes had clouded with uncertainty. The man doubted her, and to some extent she could understand why.
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