Off the Grid (Amish Safe House, Book 1)

by Ruth Hartzler

  Kate thought back to that night as the final events unfolded. She knew there had to be an explanation for why the attack took place. Still, she was at a loss. She realized not all cases had any sort of logic to them, but she couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that she was missing something important.

  The service was remarkably short. Again, there were no songs or speeches, no eulogy. The pallbearers lowered the simple, pine coffin into the grave, while a minister read a hymn aloud. There were no flowers anywhere to be seen. It was all carried out with a great deal of somber dignity.

  Once the brief event ended, the small crowd began to disperse. A few gathered in small groups to talk. This was the most social Kate had seen any of them all day. Even the Kauffmans began a quiet conversation with another of their neighbors.

  Seeing her chance, she walked briskly over the grounds to where Officer Ryan Weaver was directing his men. As she moved, she noticed the figure of a man in the distance walking away. He was too far away to make out any features, but she was fairly certain that he was not Amish. She watched him for a moment as she walked. He was dressed in a dark shirt and dark pants, and his head was tucked down as he made his way briskly off the scene. Had she been on the case, she would have had someone check on them. Of course, she wasn't on a case, and seeing the person walk away was making her most anxious indeed.

  “Officer Weaver?” she called.

  He turned to her voice and inclined his head in greeting. “Hello, Ms. Lambright, isn’t it?”

  Kate simply stared at him. She had noticed that the officer was good looking, but in strong daylight, he was quite handsome. It was apparent that he trained regularly to keep conditioned for his work. There was no spare tire to be seen, and his skin was tanned from working outside the office. His striking green eyes contrasted with his auburn hair. One brow quirked as he waited for her to speak.

  “Yes, hello, Officer Weaver.” Kate cleared her throat as she cast her eyes downward. This whole demure thing was not her at all. Things were so much simpler with a badge. Walk up. Demand updates. Nice and direct. Of course, that wasn't an option, and wouldn’t be again, not until someone found that mole and got her out of this mess.

  “I just wanted to check whether if you found out anything new about the case,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and ladylike as she could muster. She really needed to study how the Amish people functioned more closely. Surely she didn't need to act like she was from the Victorian era to keep from drawing attention to herself.

  Ryan Weaver stared at her for a moment, making her heart thump wildly. Why was she so attracted to this man? Weaver’s hesitation got to her. Despite her attempts to be a proper, demure lady, she found herself staring up at him.

  “The case is ongoing,” he finally said. “Don't worry, Ms. Lambright. We'll pass on anything we find to your authorities,” he said in a measured voice.

  Her authorities? Oh, he means the bishop, she realized after a moment.

  “I hope you’ve been okay since finding Mr. Byler like that. It must have been such a shock.” His tone was gentle and considerate.

  Kate nodded. “Do you have any suspects? Anyone matching the description of the man I saw?”

  Ryan fixed her with a steely gaze. “Ms. Lambright, please don’t concern yourself with such matters. The suspect is still at large, and he may think you’re able to identify him. It’s best you keep a low profile until all this is over.” He inclined his head dismissively, giving a small wave of his hand to gesture toward the lingering people in the crowd. “If we have any further questions, we'll let you know.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes at him. She missed her badge, and her cell phone with contacts to fix situations like these. If she wasn't supposed to be a civilian, she would show him what questions looked like. She forced herself to smile, trying to radiate goodwill. “That is wonderful to hear. Thank you,” she managed to say through gritted teeth.

  He nodded as she turned to leave. She tried not to notice Beth’s quiet disapproval from where she stood by her husband. Apparently wandering off to talk to strange men was frowned upon in this community. She could appreciate their world, but she was missing the streets back home more and more every day. She knew how to solve problems with her tech and her network. Not so much in this culture. She felt helpless and awkward and out of place. It was not a good feeling.

  As she made her way back to the group, she stole a glance back at Weaver. To her surprise, he wasn't studying the area. He was watching her. And there was something entirely non-official about the way he was studying her.

  Kate felt her face burn. Could he feel the same way about her that she felt about him? Don’t be silly, Kate; you don’t even know him, she silently scolded herself. She made herself walk stiffly back to the buggy, forcing herself not to look back at him.

  Psalm 28: 7.

  The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him.

  Chapter 12.

  As they were leaving the cemetery, Beth explained that Mr. Byler did not have any familye to host the funeral meal, so everyone was meeting at the Schlabachs’ haus.

  There was yet another polite offer to take her home, if the day had tired her. In normal circumstances she might have been tempted to play the sick card. She’d had her fill of traditional socializing for one day. What’s more, she had a booming headache developing from meeting with Officer Weaver. Her temples were pounding, and she hoped that the Schlabachs would have a home headache remedy on hand.

  Kate wondered what in fact was being done about the murder. Of course, the police were hardly likely to keep her informed of their progress. She missed her world. She doubly missed her badge. It was hard to believe how different a crime investigation was without it. Once again, Kate thought that she had never been on the civilian end of a crime before, and she most certainly did not like it.

  Still, Kate was not the sort to walk away from an open case. Despite the convenient escape offered to her, she insisted on seeing the event through the end. Kate figured that Beth had disapproved of her wandering off to talk to the police right after the funeral. Her boss had warned her that the community was strict about their isolation from the modern world, which, of course, was part of its appeal in hiding her in plain sight.

  When Kate, Beth, Rose, and Isaac arrived at the Schlabachs’ haus, Kate knew, of course, that the place would be devoid of technology. And four kids - was that what Beth said? How did they keep sane without television, Nintendo, and iPads to distract them from tearing up the house? Kate’s elderly friend, Helen, had two grandchildren who were constantly fighting and getting into mischief. Kate had managed to dodge a weekend or two of babysitting the pair. She could not imagine having four children to keep up with.

  The door opened to reveal a woman who looked to be in her late twenties. She wore the same simple dress and over-apron that Kate had grown accustomed to seeing. Wisps of red hair peeked out from under her bonnet, and her cheeks were decorated with a pretty splash of freckles.

  “Good afternoon, Esther.” Beth smiled at the other woman.

  “Beth, it's so good to see you.” The young woman smiled over the older woman's shoulder at Isaac. “Good afternoon to you too, Isaac. How is your leg doing?”

  “I can't complain. It gets sore in the cold still, but Gott saw fit to let me keep using it a while longer,” Isaac answered.

  The young lady smiled, and her eyes trailed over to Kate.

  “Esther,” Beth said. “This is Katie, the young lady recovering from an accident.”

  “Jah, hullo, Katie. I apologize that I haven't been down to greet you yet. I thought you might want to rest a while before you took company. How are you getting along so far?”

  Kate was a little taken aback by the familiarity. She nodded in greeting. “It's nice to meet you, Esther. I’m getting along fine, denki. I'm just taking it a day at a time.” Kate smiled to herself at her use of the
Pennsylvania Dutch word.

  “That's about all we can do, isn't it?” Esther was warm and friendly. It was a stark contrast to how Kate had initially imagined that the community would be.

  After a moment of small talk, Esther escorted them inside. She was so busy helping others, that it was hard to believe that she was a mother of four. Many people from the funeral were already there, all chattering among themselves. A table in the back was laden with pots and pans. The smell of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and other foods made Kate's stomach rumble. She watched as Beth gave a basket of shoo-fly pies and the apple bread she made early that morning to Esther. She felt a small wave of remorse for not having anything to offer herself. She had, however, helped Beth make the funeral pie, a delicious concoction the ingredients of which included cinnamon, raisins, spices, and brown sugar.

  Kate was overwhelmed by greetings and introductions, and was dragged from one person to the next by her over-eager hostess. This man raised cattle on the hill over yonder; this woman ran the knitting circle. She quickly lost track of who was the school teacher, who were the ministers, and who chopped wood for the elderly every winter.

  Despite her withdrawals from WiFi and cable, Kate could not help but admire the way everyone seemed to band together. She was given at least a dozen offers to ask for help anytime. What’s more, people were catching up about their lives and checking on each other to see if any help was needed. One lady offered to give a ride to another lady to town that week. There was a woman telling a pregnant lady how she was half done with a baby blanket for her. Another woman was talking to two boys on a bench. Based on their bright red hair, Kate assumed they were two of Esther's boys. Kate was amazed at how well behaved the children were.

  Kate had to admit the scene was unlike anything she had ever seen. No one was off in a corner with their head drooped over a phone. To the contrary, everyone was talking and happily interacting, one with another. To top it off, the children were quiet and spoke politely to the adults at all times.

  “Mir gleiche die Amische brieder bsuche.”

  Kate looked at the speaker, startled. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t seen him approach. “Sorry?” Was his name Jacob? Or John? Perhaps Jeremiah? The names were all blurring together. It would easily take her a year to memorize everything she had been told. And what on earth had he said?

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the young man said. “I just said that we all enjoy visiting our Amish brethren. I forgot that we were all told to speak only Englisch around you until you get your memory back. I hear you had a bit of an accident.”

  “Yes.” Kate hoped he would not pursue the matter. While she knew the story by heart, she was not eager to have too many opportunities to mess up the retelling. She knew that one could never tell what detail or inconsistency a listener would latch onto. She was acutely aware of such matters, given her job in witness security.

  “Must have been rough,” he persisted, studying her with open curiosity. Kate guessed he was in his late teens or early twenties. “What’s your community like?”

  Thankfully, Kate was rescued by an older woman who gave the young man's arm a light pinch and a scolding glare. “Now don't go bothering her about that today. There will be plenty of time when she's rested up.”

  “The poor girl has had her share of trials,” another woman chimed in, “and a good scare the other day.”

  “Gott is certainly watching over you,” Esther said, as Kate found herself surrounded by a handful of reinforcements. Nevertheless, the women looked just as curious as the young man, but they were clearly too polite to press her for information just yet.

  “Do you need anything at all?” the older woman asked.

  “No, no, I'm all right,” Kate said quickly, and then added, “Denki.” She did not want to be fussed over. Before she could plot a quick escape, she suddenly realized that she couldn't ask for a better opening. “It’s a shame about Mr. Byler.”

  She paused as the women nodded their agreement and muttered among themselves.

  “You never got a chance to meet him, did you?” Esther asked.

  “No, that day was supposed to be my first time meeting with him. I was just supposed to deliver some whoopie pies for Beth.” Her response was met with a couple sympathetic gasps. “What was he like?”

  “Oh, he was wunderbaar.” Esther said. “Such a lovely mann.”

  “Was there anyone who might have wanted to cause him harm?” Kate asked, trying to keep her tone light.

  Her question was met with confusion. The women looked at each other. “Nee, of course not,” one of them said. “Who would want to harm Mr. Byler?”

  “He’s gone home to be with Gott,” Esther said. “His fraa had already gone home, so she’ll be waiting for him there.”

  To Kate’s surprise, Esther’s comments were met with nods and approving expressions. They were talking as if Mr. Byler had simply had gone away to another state or moved out to the Bahamas.

  Kate couldn’t help but think of her parents. Were they with God? Were they waiting for her? She had never thought of it like that; she had only ever acknowledged the simple fact that they were gone. Yet these people seemed so absolutely sure that there was a life beyond this earthly life.

  “Do you think the police will catch the man?” she persisted.

  “Katie’s fretted about it for days,” Beth explained to the others in a patient, sympathetic tone. “She's rightly shaken up about it.”

  “I imagine so. Poor thing. You came here to rest up, and got mixed into such a terrifying situation.” One of the ladies reached over and patted her hand. “Don't you worry, though. You are quite safe. Whatever happens is the will of Gott.”

  “Maybe you should speak to the bishop about your fears,” one of the ladies suggested. The others brightened at the idea. In fact, it very quickly turned from a suggestion to a mandate, as Beth promised to have her husband take Kate to the bishop the following day.

  “He’s a compassionate and patient mann,” the same lady said. “He’ll be best at dealing with your delicate condition and shaken nerves.”

  It took every shred of willpower Kate had to not throw her hands up in exasperation. She wasn't worried about her delicate condition, and her nerves were just fine. She just wanted to figure out why someone would slip into Amish territory to kill a man who didn't even like to interact with the outside world. Was that really too much to ask?

  Kate took a deep breath and thanked the ladies for their concern, and after assurances that she would talk to the bishop, the topic swapped once again to daily chatter.

  Kate slipped outside to get some air. She had never realized just how suffocating a crowd of people could be. Crowds were routine at a crime scene and the busy streets, and it wasn't like she was a recluse. However, she had never had experienced so many strangers who were so deeply interested in her own well being.

  Kate took in a couple of deep breaths and mulled over the idea of simply walking back to the house. She was puzzled by the fact that the people were so accepting of a loss like this.

  She leaned against the wall and looked up at the late afternoon sky. Around the corner, she could hear some men talking to each other.

  Kate knew no one was immune to random acts of violence. Yet even so, something about the crime didn't feel random at all. She was missing something important. Her instincts had never been wrong before. If only her instincts would be slightly more specific.

  Psalm 4: 8.

  In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

  Chapter 13.

  Kate was more than a little anxious as Isaac drove her to the bishop. Despite the fact that the bishop knew her true identity, Kate was concerned that the bishop might not be happy with her behavior in the Amish community thus far.

  And so it was with some relief on her part that the bishop greeted her happily, and appeared to be genuinely pleased to see her. Isaac drove off in his buggy at on
ce, and the bishop’s wife, Martha, promised to take Kate home later.

  Kate followed the bishop and his wife inside, thankful that she could let her guard down for a while. Martha at once disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and the bishop indicated that Kate should sit on a chair opposite him.

  “How are you finding it all?” he asked.

  Kate smiled. “Well, it’s very different to what I imagined. I do miss the internet, TV, and my phone, but I’m kept so busy helping Beth with the chores that I wouldn’t have much time for them anyway. I hope no one suspects that I’m not Amish.”

  The bishop shook his head. “There are various Amish communities, and all of them with different ways. The fact that you’re supposed to be from another community in another state throws any suspicion off you.”

  Martha chose that moment to return. “I supposed you’re used to hot meadow tea by now, Katie,” she said, as she deposited two steaming mugs on the little round table.

  “Yes, I’ve developed quite a liking for it,” Kate said. “I like peppermint and I like sugar, so this tea’s ideal for me. I’ll have to get the recipe so I can keep making it when I leave.” When I leave. The words caused a heavy lump to nestle in the bottom of Kate’s stomach. How long was she going to stay here, trapped in an Amish community? It was like going back in time, to another era.

  Martha chuckled. “It sounds like this pie will be ideal for you, too. It’s Sugar Cream Pie.” She scooped up a generous serving of the pie and deposited it on a plate, which she handed to Kate, and then cut a noticeably smaller piece for her husband. With that, Martha left the room, leaving Kate to talk to the bishop.

  Kate looked at her slice of pie and her mouth watered at the sight of the baked whipped cream with cinnamon on top. The pastry was simply delectable. One thing about the Amish, Kate thought, they are superb cooks and you can’t fault their work ethic.