Off the Grid (Amish Safe House, Book 1)

by Ruth Hartzler

  “Now, it must have been quite a shock for you to find Mr. Byler like that,” the bishop said.

  Kate looked at him. She wondered for a moment if he was playing along with her cover, but then realized that he was a man of God, after all. Surely she could turn to him for help and advice, even though she herself wasn’t actually Amish.

  “Yes, it was,” she said. “Do you have any idea who would want to, err, do away with Mr. Byler?”

  The bishop shook his head. “Nee, we leave that up to the police.”

  Kate nodded, realizing that she would be unable to question the bishop about suspects. There was silence for a moment, and then Kate spoke. “There’s something I’d like to ask you, if I may.”

  The bishop nodded by way of granting permission.

  “Would you mind explaining to me explain the Amish attitude to death? It seems that no one’s concerned with finding out what happened to Mr. Byler, and while people appear sorry that he’s gone, no one is paying too much attention to the matter.”

  “We are followers of Christ,” the bishop said, “and that means we sometimes suffer, just as Christ suffered for us. You haven’t been here long enough to come to one of our church meetings yet but when you do, you will hear songs sung from the Ausbund. Do you know what the Ausbund is?”

  Kate had to admit that she didn’t.

  “Most of the hymns in the Ausbund were written by men under sentence of death,” the bishop continued. “They believed in adult baptism, and for this, many were imprisoned and then put to death. So then, many of the words of the hymns tell of deep loneliness and great sorrow. Jesus suffered, so we should be willing to suffer.”

  Kate thought for a moment. “So does such a belief take away the pain of sorrow?”

  “Yes and no,” the bishop said. “Everything that happens is the will of Gott, and there is comfort in that. If one of our loved ones goes to be with the Lord, we know that person is in a better place, with Gott.”

  “I did notice that the whole community rallied around for Mr. Byler’s funeral,” Kate said.

  The bishop nodded. “Always remember, Kate, that Gott is love, and so, for us death holds no fear.”

  This was a foreign concept to Kate, and she sat silently as she tried to understand. It was clear that the Amish had a strong sense of community, and they also appeared to be content. Yet why didn’t they care who killed Mr. Byler? Kate decided just to come straight out and ask.

  “Forgive me if this isn’t the sort of question I should be asking,” she said, “but why aren’t you interested in the identify of Mr. Byler’s killer? Don’t you want to be reassured that he will be found and brought to justice?’

  The bishop smiled patiently. “It is not up to man to judge,” he said. “Rather, it is up to Gott to judge. Our duty is simply to forgive. The Bible says, Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us. The Bible also says, If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

  “I know those verses,” Kate said, “but is that meant for today?”

  “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever.”

  Kate supposed that was the bishop’s way of saying Yes. “So does that mean that you don’t judge someone who has done something terrible?”

  “More than that,” the bishop said. “We are to love our enemies. The Bible says, If your enemy is hungry, give him food; if your enemy is thirsty, give him drink.”

  Kate’s eyes narrowed. She thought about the man who was responsible for her having to go into hiding. If he was hungry, would she feed him? Certainly not. She could think of many things she’d like to do to him, and none of them involved giving him a drink or some food. How do these people do it? Kate wondered.

  Psalm 23: 1 - 3.

  The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

  He makes me lie down in green pastures.

  He leads me beside still waters.

  He restores my soul.

  He leads me in paths of righteousness

  for his name's sake.

  Chapter 14.

  Kate did her best to keep the fake smile pasted on her face. It was bad enough that she had to leave her life behind and pretend to be a simple Amish girl, but now she had to take place in, of all things, a knitting circle. Every lady in the room seemed twice her age, some even appeared to be close to three times her age.

  “Knitting is so relaxing, don’t you agree?” an elderly woman said.

  “Oh, look at these.” Another held up a pair of baby booties. “Won’t my grossboppli, Rachel, be so warm with these on her precious, little feet?”

  All the other ladies agreed.

  “I’m knitting these booties for my new grossboppli, Sarah,” one of the group declared. “My dochder, Nancy, just had her a month ago and she grows sweeter every day.”

  Kate smiled genuinely at that. The baby was indeed one of the most beautiful she had ever seen, and Sue was a kind, soft spoken, young woman.

  “Katie, do you need help with that scarf?” another voice asked.

  Kate looked down at what was supposed to be a long, black, triangular shawl in the making. “I’ve dropped a few stitches, I think,” she said, holding up the offending section.

  “En Schtich in Zeit is neine wart schpaeder naus,” one lady said.

  “Now ladies,” a woman called Lillian said, “we have to speak in Englisch. Katie, that meant, A stitch in time, saves nine. Perhaps you forgot how to knit because of the amnesia.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Kate said, instead of speaking her true feelings. This deep undercover business was going to be the end of her. She just wanted to back to where the world made sense.

  “Not to be a nosy busybody,” Lillian said, “but Katie, have the police come back to talk to you?”

  “Lillian!” Several voices all spoke at once.

  “Nee, they haven’t,” Kate said. She smiled to herself knowing that the other ladies were just as curious as Lillian, despite their protestations.

  Kate’s thought drifted to the handsome cop, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. I’m sure he’s not interested in me, she thought, but then again, why did she care what he thought of her anyway? He seemed to be one of those men who thought a woman couldn’t take care of herself. But then again she could hardly judge him too harshly. He thought she was a sweet Amish lady, not a U.S. Marshal who could help him catch a murderer. If only she could break character, but of course, if she did, whoever was after her would be bound to get word and come for her. And as much as she hated knitting, she didn’t want to put anyone in the community in danger, least of all for the sake of her pride.

  Kate looked up, wondering if the ladies were staring at her while she had been lost in thought, but she was relieved that the ladies were laughing together over another matter. Kate smiled. While she was sure she would never grow accustomed to knitting, much less enjoy it, chatting with this group was not all that bad after all.

  Kate wanted to ask questions, but wasn’t sure the best way to word it. Finally, she decided simply to come right out and ask. “I was wondering if Mr. Byler had any enemies. I mean, who would want to murder such a man?”

  “Such a shame,” Lillian said, “murdered on his own property. You would not expect that here.”

  “The world is getting smaller with the Englischers’ internet and what not,” one lady said.

  “We need to pray harder for the younger generation,” another voice piped up.

  “Who said it wasn’t someone older?” Lillian asked. “Why I saw Esther’s grossmammi, Rhoda, chase the cat that always tears her dresses on the clothes line with a frying pan. She ran nearly half a mile at gut speed, and she’s over eighty!”

  Everyone collapsed into helpless peals of laughter.

  Kate took in all that was being said. These women were more like everyone else than she had first thought.
They even made jokes with each other.

  “Anyway, Katie asked a question.” Lillian got them back on track.

  Finally, Naomi, the one who Kate guessed to be the oldest lady in the room, leaned forward in her rocking chair. “I think his sohn did it,” she said in a croaky voice.

  A hush fell over the room.

  “Nee,” Lillian said. “Jah, he’s had trouble, but you can’t think that.”

  “His son?” Katie asked. “What did his son do?”

  “Moses was a lovely little boy,” Lillian said. “Joseph Byler and his fraa, Barbara, adopted him because they couldn’t have kinner. Oh, hush,” she said when the others gasped at her disclosure. “When he grew older, he wanted to know about his birth familye and was bothered by the fact they didn’t live in town. He left town looking for them, and got into trouble with the law. But there is still good in him; I saw it in his eyes before he left. He is still that lost little boy and he would never harm his vadder.”

  The oldest lady spoke again. “Sometimes it’s the person you would least expect.”

  Lillian shook her head.

  Kate listened to everything that was said. Now, at long last, she had had a suspect. Maybe the shooting was an act of revenge for perceived wrong doings? Or maybe there was an inheritance which the young man wanted to get his hands on in order to fund his criminal lifestyle. Moses was certainly sounding like a legitimate suspect. Kate wondered if the police were following up on him. Surely they were, as it was standard procedure to look into those closest to a victim in a murder case.

  “But what about that developer who was going to buy Joseph’s farm?” Beckie, one of the ladies, said. “Joseph told me he was in two minds about selling the farm, ‘cause then the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission could force the farm on the far side to have power lines built right through it. They could even force them to sell their farm cheaply.”

  Another suspect, Kate thought. Aloud she said, “The other farm: are they Amish?”

  “Nee,” Lillian said. “Englischers, and very wealthy at that.”

  Kate risked another question. “Was Joseph Byler selling to the developer, or just thinking about it?”

  “His mind was made up,” Lillian said. “He was going to sell for sure. He was an elderly man, running that farm by himself. No one knew where his son was, so he couldn’t carry on the farm. Joseph had no choice but to sell, really.”

  All the ladies nodded their agreement.

  “Beckie, do you think the developer have killed Joseph?” a lady asked.

  “Nee, Abigail, that would make the owner of the farm a suspect,” Beckie said, “and the developer would have no reason to kill Joseph if he was selling. In fact his death would slow down the whole process, even stop it, if his heir didn’t want to sell.”

  “I guess you have a point,” Abigail said, “but does that mean the wealthy Englischer did it? I’ve heard he has quite the temper.”

  The oldest lady, Naomi, leaned forward once again. “If he found out that Joseph was selling out, maybe. That would give him the motive. Plus he’s quite handy with firearms since he’s gone hunting every hunting season right from the time he was a boy.”

  “What does he hunt?” Kate asked, shooting a look at the elderly lady. She had no idea that Esther’s mind was so sharp. In fact, she had no idea that the Amish ladies would be so analytical, let alone show the slightest interest in the subject.

  “Enough now,” a frowning lady by the name of Gloria said, her lips tightly pursed. “We are here to knit, not to spread unfounded rumors about our neighbors. The Bible says, ‘Whoever keeps his tongue and his mouth shut keeps himself out of trouble.’ That kind of talk is what gets a woman stuck without a husband.” She looked pointedly at Kate.

  Kate stared at her feet. She had just been censured by one of the ladies, but she hadn’t blown her cover, not even close. After all, several of the ladies were quite keen to discuss the matter, and this came as quite the surprise to Kate. The Amish were managing to surprise her each and every day. They were nothing like she had imagined.

  “Oh, don’t be so Scripture smart, Gloria,” Lillian said with a wave of her hand, earning for herself an angry glare from Gloria. “I’m sure Katie will find herself a gut mann in our community; isn’t that right, Katie?”

  Katie forced a smile onto her face. Not if I can help it, she thought. I don’t want to be Amish any longer than I can help it. Besides, the only man I have my eye on, is Officer Ryan Weaver. She suppressed a smile at the thought of him.

  At least Kate now figured that she had two suspects, and each had a motive. The first suspect was the son who had left the community after falling out with his parents. Was it simply a case of an adopted child leaving to seek out his biological parents? Beckie seemed to believe he wasn’t a bad person, but Kate had to wonder whether the older woman was right or whether she was simply blinded by the child she knew, instead of the adult Moses had become. Kate was only too aware that such things sometimes happened with civilians who were too close to the suspect. Nevertheless, Moses was certainly a suspect, at least in her eyes.

  The second suspect was the wealthy man from the farm on the far side of the Byler farm. Money was one of the main motives in murder cases. At the very least, the wealthy landowner would have to have been upset by Joseph Byler’s intention to sell the farm to a developer who was putting power lines right through the middle of the property.

  If Joseph Byler had completed the sale, then at some point, the wealthy landowner could be forced to allow the power lines right through the middle of his land. Worse still, there was even a chance that he could be forced to sell his land. Kate doubted he would ever receive a price even close to what the land was worth. All this added up to making the man the leading suspect in Kate’s mind.

  By the time the knitting circle ended for the night, Kate could not wait to get back to her cottage. She planned to ask Beth for a herbal concoction which she could smear all over her sore hands to relieve the aches from the torture she had put them through. Knitting! Who would’ve thought it could be so hard? The knitting circle was also a surprise; who would have thought that Amish women would be so keen to look into the intricacies of a case?

  Kate had made up her mind. Tomorrow she would go and see Officer Ryan Weaver. She imagined the police wouldn’t take her seriously, but she could not let that stop her. If only she could flash her badge and tell them that she was a U.S. Marshal, then they would sit up and listen. Instead, she had to keep up her act and just do the best she could, while not revealing her true identity.

  And, as much as Kate didn’t want to admit it to herself, it would be nice to see Ryan again. She had to tell herself in advance not to think of his handsome face. No good would come of it; after all, he thought she was an Amish woman. It wasn’t as if they were both Englischers. Kate suppressed a chuckle when she realized she was even beginning to think in some Pennsylvania Dutch words.

  But there was one thing for sure. No matter how she felt about the handsome police officer, there was no way that she was spending the rest of her life in this town. For now, she would settle with helping to solve a murder and ensuring the right person was caught and punished.

  Proverbs 19: 23.

  The fear of the Lord leads to life, and whoever has it rests satisfied; he will not be visited by harm.

  Chapter 15.

  As Beth’s daughter, Rose, drove Kate into town, Kate rebuked herself for allowing her heart to beat a million beats faster at the thought of Ryan. But still, it happened, and she was also aware that she blushed when she was around him. If her co-workers ever knew a man could have such an effect on her, she’d never hear the end of it.

  Right now, however, Kate was going to the station to share what she had found out last night. She presumed she would be met with the same condescending attitude as before. If only they’d catch the mole soon, she thought. Then I could return to my old life and all this ridiculousness would be over. Life was complica
ted enough without having to live a double life. Worse still, she was doing it without television, the internet, and cell phones – without mirrors, even! And she hadn’t worn make up since she arrived in town. She had no idea how she looked without makeup, given that there were no mirrors. She had tried to look at her reflection in the base of a pan, but all she had been able to see was a blurred outline of her face. It made her realize just how much she had relied on appearance in her old life.

  The second Kate stepped into the police station, her stomach twisted in knots. She was not used to being on this side of the desk. Oh, how the tables had turned.

  “Good morning,” Kate said in the most polite voice she could muster. “Is Officer Ryan Weaver in, please? I’d like to speak to him.”

  The frowning female officer looked up at her. “What’s your name?” she snapped. “I’ll see if he’s available.”

  “Kate Br… Katie Lambright,” Kate said, hoping that the officer didn’t notice her lapse.

  The officer simply picked up the phone, waited a moment, and then barked, “Katie Lambright at the front desk to see you.” After a moment, she grunted, and hung up the phone. “He’ll be right along.”

  “Thank you.” Katie looked at the woman, but she was already looking down, making notes on a sheet of paper in front of her. Katie looked around the room. What should she do: stand there, or sit on a chair?

  After a moment of indecision, Katie headed for a chair, but just then, Ryan walked in.

  “Ms. Lambright.”

  “Katie, please.”

  “Katie.” He smiled and Katie almost clutched her stomach due to the fact that a thousand butterflies seemed to be flying around in her insides.

  “Come along to my office.”

  Katie followed the cop down a long corridor. It smelled of coffee, and another smell she was unable to identify. A few officers were chatting amongst themselves, and shot her curious glances as she passed.

  The corridor opened up to a large room, and there was a dim hustle and bustle as uniformed cops moved this way and that. There were desks here and there, each one with a computer, each one with various personal effects and photographs.