Once both of her feet were firmly planted on the ground, Adam held the stick out to her. “It’s a rough job since I didn’t have much time, but I think it will serve its purpose.” His voice sounded apologetic.
She took the walking stick from him and touched the simple spiral handle he had whittled at the top. It fit in her hand perfectly. Without letting go of his arm, she leaned into the cane. It held her weight comfortably. “Danki. You have skill. That is gut.”
Between the cane and Adam’s arm, she hobbled to his vehicle, a large black monster of an SUV called a Tahoe. The Amish Taxi that she used was a simple minivan. She had traveled in a van that had carried fourteen of them from their community in Northern Indiana for shopping in Fort Wayne several years ago. Most likely, vehicles like this had passed her buggy many times on the roads, but she had never noticed. Why would she when she had little use for or interest in cars?
“I’ll get your bicycle.” He left her leaning against the side of the vehicle, retrieved her bicycle from the trees and loaded it into the back. Without breaking a sweat, he returned to her.
At the door, she stared up at the seat. Ach, how would she ever get up that high?
As if he had read her thoughts, Adam leaned in and pointed. “Lean on me to get your good leg on the running board. I’ll help you up.”
A moment later, with Adam lifting on her elbow, she was perched in the SUV. Adam jogged around the front and quickly seated himself behind the wheel. He didn’t start the vehicle, though, but turned to her with his eyebrows scrunched into a questioning look.
Apparently he wasn’t just going to take her home. She would have to answer more questions first. Her heart thrummed within her chest.
“Why don’t you tell me about your brother. What’s his name? When did you last see him?” He tapped one finger against the steering wheel.
From this height and location, she had a clear view of the cabin. Several officers were working at various tasks, including one putting yellow tape around the perimeter. What had Timothy been doing there? She couldn’t imagine, but it hadn’t involved sketching.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but everything began to spin. With her eyes open, it wasn’t much better. Anxiety overwhelmed her, and her hands began to shake in her lap. Her brother was still out of contact, she sat in the vehicle of a law enforcement officer who had saved her from two bullets and she wasn’t sure when she would see her twins again. She grasped one hand with the other, an act of will to stop the trembling, but it only worsened until tears cascaded down her face. She swiped at her cheeks, desperate to get some control over her emotions and be strong for her daughters, but it felt hopeless. Her parents were gone, her husband had been killed two years ago and now she seemed to have lost her bruder, as well.
Was she in custody? What were the intentions of this agent? When would she get to Jed and Sarah’s house to see her twin girls again? With no husband to step in for her, she would have to have a special reliance on the care of Gott. Her leg throbbed, and although the officer was kind enough to make a cane, how would she keep up with the household chores?
Her world was crashing down, and she had no family to which to turn.
* * *
The Amish woman sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, lifting a dainty finger to wipe away a stray tear.
She was lovely, wholesome, innocent-looking. But Adam couldn’t let that influence him. Until he found out exactly what she was doing there and confirmed it with someone reputable, he would consider her a person of interest.
He shifted in his seat to get a better look at her. As he waited for her to begin answering his questions, he noted her light green dress with the white apron, which was soiled from the tree and the shooting. Her dark blond hair was pulled back into a bun, but her kapp now sat askew.
Stray thoughts wandered unbidden through his mind. Where would he be right now if his own father hadn’t rejected his Amish upbringing? Adam knew a little of the Amish from his infrequent visits to his grandparents, but the faith and lifestyle he had seen in them hadn’t saved them from difficult circumstances, including outright rejection and scorn from their own son, Adam’s father.
He shook his head to force himself back to the present task, a responsibility that had nothing to do with his own Amish heritage, a generation removed.
Katie stared out the front window, not blinking, and said, “Mein bruder is Timothy Schwartz.”
Okay, that was a start. Silence stretched between them, but Adam could sit for as long as it took.
“I last saw him on Easter. I do not know where he is or what he has been doing. That is why I was looking for him today.” She paused, but he waited patiently. “I found a social security card in his shop, but I do not know the name on it.”
Adam hid his surprise. He tucked that valuable piece of information away for later examination as he quickly completed a mental calculation. “So, it’s been over two months since you talked to your brother. Isn’t that unusual for the Amish? Unless you don’t live near here?”
“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?”