Guarding The Amish Midwife. Dana R. Lynn
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watch for potential threats. A lone car sped past him, not even bothering to move to the other side of the road. He narrowed his eyes as the vehicle continued down the road and disappeared. No doubt the driver was going above the speed limit.
As he approached, he could see that there was only one person in the car. He didn’t let himself relax. Far too often, people ducked down to hide in the floorboards. He could view into the backseat. No one was there. He scanned the rest of the vehicle. One of the back windows had been shattered. His suspicions heightened. He took a cautious step closer, enough that he could just barely make out the top of a head around the headrest. Two hands on the wheel. That was good. If he could see the hands, they weren’t reaching for a weapon. He arrived at the car window and stared. Realizing his jaw had dropped open, he closed it with a click.
William Allister might have owned the car, but he certainly wasn’t driving it. Inside the car was a young Amish woman, face wet with tears. She turned her terrified, brilliant blue eyes to him. He motioned for her to roll down the window. He had to repeat the motion twice before she complied. Suspicion darted across her face, but the terror was stronger. A tiny bit of relief mingled in her expression, as well.
Isaac understood the suspicion all too well. The Amish did not, as a rule, involve the police in their business. His own dat had refused to go to the police at a very critical time in Isaac’s life. Joshua had died, the victim of three drunk teens who had found a blind Amish youth an easy mark, and his father would not be moved to see that justice was done. Isaac pushed his memories of his younger brother from his mind. The bitterness was still too strong, even after seven years.
So was the guilt. Isaac had argued with his father, the first time in his life he had refused to give in to his dat’s commands. He’d been so angry, in fact, that Isaac had left his Amish community, and the Plain tradition in which he was raised, instead of being baptized in the faith. His father had died two years ago, and they had never reconciled. A circumstance that weighed heavy on his conscience every single day of his life. With his father’s death, any hope he might have had of ever rejoining the Amish community that his mother and sister still lived in had also died. It didn’t matter that he had not been baptized, therefore meaning he could technically maintain his ties with his community, since his father had made it very clear that if he left, he would not be welcome there anymore. He couldn’t have stayed, though. He needed to find some justice for his brother. Nothing mattered until he’d accomplished that.
He pulled his mind back to the car in front of him.
The young woman finally managed to roll the window down. It was an older vehicle, so the windows were manually controlled. Judging by the way she had to resort to using both hands, they weren’t in the best of condition, either. Her hands were shaking hard and her face was as pale as milk. Was she injured? He slid his glance over her, doing a rapid assessment. No visible injuries. Still, he couldn’t rule out injury or illness.
She was breathing fast and shallow, he noted.
“Miss, do you need help? You’re very pale, and you were driving all over the road.”
When she didn’t respond immediately, he asked again if she needed help, this time in the American-flavored German used by the Amish, sometimes known as Pennsylvania Dutch. He didn’t even stop to think about it. It had been a while since he’d spoken that dialect.
Seven years, to be exact.
Her dark blue eyes widened. She finally responded, though. “Jah, I need help.”
She burst into sobs again, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved. All he could see now was the black bonnet on her head. He frowned. Her cloak looked wet. She must have been out in the rain. Leaning over slightly, he saw the seat on the other side of her was drenched. Yep, she had definitely been out in the downpour.
An unlikely thought occurred to him. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t have stolen a vehicle, but there was still a slight possibility that she had.
“Um, ma’am, this car, did you, um, borrow it?” He didn’t want to outright ask her if she took it.
She lifted her face and bobbed her head. “Jah, I did borrow it. My driver, Bill, got out to do something, and he left me in the car for a long time. I got tired of waiting for him, so I went to find him. He was with another man. They were arguing. The other man shot him. I think he’s dead.”
Isaac’s eyes scanned the oncoming traffic for any visible threats. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean anything. Right now, he was an open target for anyone who was after the young woman in front of him. Isaac didn’t question whether or not she was making up the story. He doubted she could fake terror that deep. Even if she were making up the story, though, he still had a duty to check it out.
“You can’t sit out here in the open. And I need to get the details. Can you come back to my car? I want to call in some backup, too.”
She hesitated. For a moment, he was sure she would refuse. She surprised him when she nodded and stepped from the car. Isaac moved to her side and cupped her elbow in his palm as they walked back to his police cruiser. He wanted to make sure she didn’t slip and fall, but he also wanted to hurry her along so that she was in plain view for as short a time as possible. As long as she was out in the open, she was vulnerable. He kept her along the shoulder, keeping himself between her and anyone passing by.
If someone was going to play target practice with them, hopefully they would hit him first and give her time to flee. Isaac didn’t even think of not protecting her. It was just the way things had to be. The area between his shoulder blades itched. He could almost imagine the crosshairs of a scope lining up.
He increased his pace. She kept up with him. For a little thing, she was quick. Her head barely came to his shoulders, and he was only five foot ten.
A minute later, Isaac squired her into his vehicle.
The young woman shifted in her seat. It wasn’t difficult to tell that being in a police car was not something she was comfortable with. He wished he could make it easier for her, but it was just something she would have to deal with. Isaac was not unsympathetic. He remembered very well the first time he had dealt with the police. Uncomfortable was a mild way of putting it.
Another quick glance out the window assured him that no one with a gun was bearing down on them. He blew out a breath, relieved. He had never been shot in the line of duty, not in the two years he had been a police officer. He would prefer to keep it that way.
Turning his attention back to his passenger, he squelched the pity that he instinctively felt as he viewed the red-rimmed blue eyes. His whole focus needed to be on keeping her safe and catching the perp. That called for objectivity.
“Before you begin to tell me what happened,” he said to her, “let me call in to my station. If there is some guy out there with a gun, I want more than just myself out looking for him.”
She frowned, as if he had offended her a bit by what he had said. What had he said? Oh, maybe it had sounded like he didn’t quite believe her. He didn’t mean it that way.
Isaac quickly radioed in to the station.
“I have a possible shooting,” he told the dispatcher. “Requesting backup.”
“Affirmative, Isaac. What’s the location of the shooting?”
He turned to the young woman sitting beside him. “Can you tell me where you were when this happened?”
She nodded her head. “I am not from here. But I do remember it was about five minutes back. There was an old abandoned place. It was a large blue building. The windows were all broken out.” She bit her lip. “I am sorry. That is all I can remember.”
Isaac flashed her a brief smile. “It’s fine. Believe it or not, that helps a lot.” He pushed the button for the