Meghan Carver - Amish Covert Operation

“Praise Gott for His protection.” She closed her eyes for a quick prayer, but when the darkness began to spin, she popped them open again. Gott would hear prayers with eyes open, as well.

Adam had stepped away from the door of the ambulance, but he soon returned with a long, stout stick. He dug out a pocketknife and began whittling one end of the stick.

With a gentle touch, the paramedic cleaned and bandaged her forehead. “You have some minor abrasions, probably from your fall from the tree. They will also heal up with time. I don’t expect you to have any scars.”

“Did I faint? Is that why I am so dizzy?”

“Yes. It’s called vasovagal syncope. Do you faint at the sight of blood?” She nodded toward Adam. “Special Agent Troyer told me you found your injury first by the blood on your skirt.”

Katie glanced at Adam, but he was studying his stick. Surely he was listening. “ Nein. Not that I know of. When one of my twins scrapes a knee, I do not like that she is hurt, but the blood does not bother me.”

“Extreme emotional distress is probably your trigger then. You’ve been shot at twice. That makes for a difficult afternoon. In response, your heart rate slowed and your blood pressure dropped. That made you faint.”

The paramedic made it sound so matter-of-fact, but that was her job. Still Katie pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, an effort to wipe away the stickiness of anxiety.

“Would you like to go to the hospital? They can do a more thorough examination there.”

“Do I need to?”

“Not necessarily. It’s completely up to you.”

Concern for her bruder was pushed aside by thoughts of her twins. The sun was slanting lower and lower, and the four-year-old girls must be anxious for her return. Her friend Sarah would take gut care of them, feeding them supper and probably too many treats. But Katie didn’t like to be away too long. A mother needed to be with her children, and children needed to be with their mother. A trip to the hospital would most likely extend into the nighttime hours.

“ Danki , but nein . I am sure I will be fine with some rest.” How much would an ambulance cost, anyway? For sure and for certain, it was expensive, a cost with which she did not want to burden the community.

“I’ll take you home.” Adam looked up from his whittling. It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement, and a shiver stairstepped down Katie’s spine. Was it from the richness of his baritone voice or the insinuation that he had more questions for her?

An hour later, with the help of the paramedic, Katie scooted off the cot. A strong twinge of pain shot up her leg from the site of the wound. In the couple of steps toward the ambulance door, though, she determined that she could make it. But Special Agent Troyer was there with hand outstretched, and she willingly leaned most of her weight on him to get out of the vehicle.

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.”