Amish Covert Operation Page 8

  “Whatever you think is best.” Katie looked out the window as if to give him some privacy for his phone call.

  A moment later, the sheriff’s deep voice boomed through the phone. “How’d it go?”

  “The book doesn’t work. We’re going to have to—”

  “Tell me in person, son. I thought I better stay close to you two, just in case you needed some backup. So I’m at the coffee shop just a couple doors down from where you are. Stop in and we’ll talk.”

  Katie tilted her head as if she could hear the sheriff’s invitation, but she remained silent.

  “I think we’d better keep going—”

  “Son, the Amish make the best coffee and the best sandwiches this side of the Mississippi. Probably the other side, as well. Get on down here and get a cup. You can tell me then.” The sheriff hung up before Adam could reply.

  If he had had any doubt about what to do next, now there was no choice. They would go see the sheriff. He plastered on a smile for Katie. “Hungry?”

  “I suppose, jah.”

  He twisted in his seat to check every direction, but all was well. They had been stationary for long enough, and he was ready to move the vehicle. But the coffee shop was just a couple of doors down. It seemed there was no right answer. With an armed man on the loose, perhaps more than one man, looking for Katie, no place was truly safe.

  “The sheriff is at the coffee shop and wants us to stop there to talk to him. He hung up on me, insisting that we have a sandwich.”

  * * *

  Adam decided to leave the Tahoe parked where it was, outside the bookstore. If their predator did find them, perhaps Adam would see him first if he thought they were in the bookstore.

  Adam turned to Katie with what he hoped was a reassuring look. “Ready?”

  “You would know better than I would. Are we ready?” She tried to smile, but it only slanted across her pretty face. Perhaps his look wasn’t as comforting as he wanted, but she certainly was perceptive.

  “Let’s go.”

  She met him around the back of the Tahoe, and he stepped around her so that she was on the inside, near the stores, and he was on the outside, near the road. He put on his straw hat and then took it off and put it back on, angling it slightly to see if it could have a more comfortable fit.

  “Stop fidgeting with your hat. You look fine in your Amish clothing.”

  “Is my discomfort that obvious?” But his discomfort wasn’t really with the clothing. It was with the life he had been leading and its juxtaposition with Katie’s simple life.

  She simply nodded and looked at the buggies as they passed. He had the sudden urge to take her arm, but this was not a companionable moment. It was a job, an assignment, and soon he would move on to the next assignment and then the next and then the next. It was the nature of his position, a job he enjoyed and from which he derived great satisfaction.

  Until now. What was it about Katie and the Amish faith that made him want to shrug off the burdens of the world and be plain? He had enjoyed the little amount of time spent with his Amish grandparents. That was true. There had been a simplicity and a peacefulness that he hadn’t ever found elsewhere. He certainly had looked for it, including at the bottom of a bottle. But when he hadn’t found that calm and tranquility there, he had managed to overcome his alcoholism. He did like his electricity, but was that enough to keep him tied to his current life? Perhaps not.

  He shook his head to clear away the ridiculous thoughts. With his past problem, he wasn’t good enough for God, for Katie or for the Amish people.

  As they approached the door of the coffee shop, the tantalizing aromas wafted toward them, and Adam’s stomach growled in response. Perhaps a bite to eat was the right thing, something to keep up his strength and help him think clearly. The only way to find the attacker and make Katie and her brother safe was to decode that message. Timothy had risked his life to get that information to Katie, a message that should ultimately keep her safe.

  Two steps from the door, tires squealed on the asphalt, a screech that drove his hand to seek his weapon in the holster. His other hand found the small of Katie’s back, ready to push her down and cover her with his own body. With another shriek of the tires, he thrust her into the doorway, heading her toward what he hoped was safety as he scoured the street for the speeding vehicle.

  SEVEN

  Adam nodded a fast thanks as the sheriff pulled Katie inside the coffee shop. He must have heard the squeal of tires, as well.

  With his weapon drawn, Adam spun back to the parking lot. He ducked as best he could behind a tall potted plant, praying it would provide adequate concealment. A white cargo van swerved close. A shot hit the cement step below him, sending small chunks of concrete flying. Adam crouched lower, his eyes squinting out of instinct to keep the flying debris out, but preventing him from getting a clear look at the shooter.

  The van jerked back toward the road. Adam stepped out from behind the plant, prepared to fire back, but the vehicle sped away too quickly. With dismay, he saw that there was no license plate. With no tag number, the sheriff would probably be unable to identify the van.

  Sheriff Moore stepped out from behind him. “Katie’s safe, and everyone’s staying inside. What happened?”

  Adam didn’t stop his scan of the area. “Warning shot. I think the driver could see that he wouldn’t get Katie, but he wanted to make sure we knew he was here.”

  “I radioed my deputy. He’s on his way.”

  A few moments later, the law enforcement vehicle arrived, and the deputy began processing the scene.

  Adam stepped inside the café, behind the sheriff. At least he knew his senses were alert. Now he needed to make sure they stayed that way.

  More coffee would help with that.

  He took a deep breath and willed his pulse to stop pounding as he confirmed that Katie was unharmed.

  “You’re doin’ fine, son. Let’s sit down and catch a breath. You can fill me in while the deputy searches outside.” Sheriff Moore clapped him on the shoulder and led the way to a table near the back. Adam had been an ICE special agent for enough years to develop some maturity in his skills, yet the sheriff’s words of encouragement were a balm to his nerves.

  Katie smiled demurely and said, “Danki,” and then followed the sheriff to his table. Wide-eyed, she nodded to a server she seemed to know, an Amish woman with the same style of white starched prayer kapp, as she sat.

  Adam selected a chair on the side of the table, from which he could see both the front and the back of the little café. Instinctually he visually scanned and made mental notes of the exits, the customers and what he could see through the kitchen door. “Not many customers now?”

  “No, and that’s a blessing.”

  “But now the step out front is damaged.”

  “Everyone’s just glad no person is damaged. We’ll get the cement fixed.”

  The Amish server approached and poured coffee for Adam and Katie, and then brought chicken-salad sandwiches with a pickle and a side of potato chips.

  “So, the hymnal from the bookstore isn’t the key to the cipher?” The sheriff took a large bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a drink of coffee.

  “No. We figure it’s a more recent printing.”

  “The copy of the Ausbund that mein bruder and I used seemed to be old even then, when we were children. It could have been printed a half of a century ago. It probably is no longer being printed.” Katie added sugar to her coffee and stirred.

  “So, we can’t find one online.” Adam recapped as he took a sip of the strong black coffee. The sheriff had been right. It was the best he had ever tasted. “There’s no time to order one. And the Amish bookstore doesn’t sell one that will break the cipher. I think Katie’s brother must have thought she had one of the old hymnals, otherwise he wouldn’t have made cracking h
is code this difficult.”

  Sheriff Moore wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What about the bishop? Maybe he can help.”

  The bishop. Adam’s pulse spiked. “Okay. Sure.”

  “Maybe he still has a copy of the old hymnal.”

  “That’s what Katie wondered.” Adam’s leg began to jiggle underneath the table, a nervous habit he thought he had conquered in school. He was a federal agent of some experience and caliber of skill. Meeting an Amish bishop shouldn’t be intimidating. But it most definitely was. “I guess it’s worth asking. And I’m eager to get this resolved before someone gets hurt.”

  “I would be happy to go with you. Perhaps my presence would make the visit seem more like official business. Of course there’s no guarantee that would help, but most likely it wouldn’t hurt.”

  Katie folded her napkin and laid it on the table. “It is true that the Amish do not usually care for law enforcement. But this is a simple request about a book. I do not think the bishop will take issue with that.”

  “If it’s any help, son, I’ve met the bishop. I’ve had a piece of his wife’s fabulous strawberry pie, and he seemed to be an upstanding guy.”

  Somehow Adam couldn’t see an Amish bishop taking kindly to being called a term so casual as guy. And good pie didn’t make for a pleasant visit, necessarily, but since the sheriff had met him and Adam hadn’t, Adam would take his word for it. At a loss for an intelligent reply, Adam stayed silent.

  “Danki, Sheriff Moore,” Katie said in the gap of silence, “but we will go. Bishop Zook worked with and studied under my daed, and Daed always spoke of him fondly. That relationship, to my daed, as well as to mein bruder and me, will soften him to both the visit and the request. Then Gott will handle the rest.” She smiled at Adam, dimples deepening that he hadn’t noticed before. “All Agent Troyer needs to do is get us there.”

  And keep her safe, she didn’t say. But from the look of peace on her face, perhaps she hadn’t even thought it. What would Adam give for that kind of calm about life? That level of trust that the best would work out, that Someone was watching over him?

  The realization hit him square in the chest. He would give everything.

  Adam gradually became aware of the sheriff and Katie staring at him as he gazed at his half-empty cup of coffee. “Ahem, yes. We’ll take care of it. Do you think this Bishop Zook will see me as making an effort, due to my Amish clothing? Or will I be perceived as an imposter?”

  Katie gently touched his hand. “It will be fine. Gott is gut, and He looks after us.”

  The sheriff made eye contact with Adam, his gaze penetrating to Adam’s soul. Then he turned to Katie with a gentler look around his eyes. “Would you like to visit with your friend who’s working here? Why don’t we see if she can take a break?” He looked to Adam. “I’ll take her back to the staff break room and make sure the area is secure.”

  He returned a moment later and took a sip of his coffee. “Want to tell me what’s going on, son? Your shaking leg is about to upset everything on this table. There’s something more here than just pursuing a lead in a case.”

  The sheriff’s gaze softened, reminding Adam of the few good times he had had with his father. Adam had been forced to be strong for so long that he wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond to genuine interest and concern. To buy himself some time, he took a gulp of his coffee, but he choked on it and sputtered into his napkin. The sheriff clapped him on the back, a knowing look in his eyes.

  “I’m just nervous about meeting the bishop. Someone who is harsh and critical of outsiders.”

  “What makes you think he’ll be harsh and critical?”

  “My dad always thought so. That’s why he left his Amish roots. My grandparents were kind people, but that only caused me more confusion about the Amish and religion in general. I mean, isn’t the Amish life one that someone is usually born into? You don’t just join them like you join a health club.” Why was he saying all of this? Was he that desperate for someone to talk to? He had stuffed his past down for so long and moved into the future as if the past hadn’t existed, that now, here in this Amish world, he felt like he was going to explode with questions and confusion.

  “Grandparents, huh? I thought Troyer sounded like an Amish name.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t spend time with anyone other than my grandparents and a neighbor every now and then. Certainly not a bishop.” And if the bishop knew of his past? Well, the man wouldn’t want to be tainted by close proximity to such a sinner as Adam.

  “Obviously I don’t know your grandparents, but I think you’ll find that most Amish are more like them—kind, generous, thoughtful. They’re good people.”

  “Too good to be around someone like me.” Adam toyed with his coffee mug, unable to look the sheriff in the eye.

  The table creaked as the sheriff leaned forward. “Well, I don’t know about that. The Amish have their share of problems, as well. No one is perfect, not even the Amish.”

  “Okay, but they still haven’t had the problems I’ve had.” And in response to the empathetic look in the sheriff’s eye, before he could even think it through, Adam found the rest of the confession tumbling out uncontrolled. “My dad started drinking in his running-around time. Got involved with the wrong crowd. So he was never baptized into the church. He got married. Had me and my brother. But he never could conquer the drinking, and my mom left him.” He grabbed a glass of water and gulped. “Well, isn’t there a verse about the sins of the father? It wasn’t long after my dad and my brother were killed in a drunk-driving accident that I succumbed, as well. Stupid, wasn’t it? I had barely buried them, they were killed because of my dad’s drinking and I chose to bury my guilt in the bottle.”

  Sheriff Moore sat silent, giving him room to talk and breathe.

  “I kicked the habit eventually. I’ve been sober for three years now. But don’t you see? I’m not good enough for the Amish. Not good enough even to be around them. Not good enough for God.” He swallowed hard at the bitterness that rose in his throat.

  “Now, son, it sounds to me like you know a little bit about your Bible. And so you know that God forgives, if we ask Him to. It’s that simple.” The sheriff scrubbed his hand through his hair. “As far as the bishop goes, remember that this is only for the hymnal. It’s no big deal. The bigger issue here is the way you look at Katie and the way Katie looks at you.”

  A sudden heat smacked Adam in the face. Had it really been that obvious, his admiration of her simple beauty? She didn’t wear a bit of makeup and wasn’t bedecked in jewels like other women he knew, but she radiated an appealing wholesomeness.

  “Is something brewing here?”

  Adam scooted his chair back to get some distance from the idea that Katie might be looking at him. “N-no, sir. Not that I know of.”

  “Okay. Well, there’s still time. The important thing to remember is that what’s in the past needs to be left there—in the past. The Amish—and the Lord—are a lot more forgiving than you might think.”

  * * *

  Katie peered through the round window in the swinging door, her hand paused before she pushed it open to return to the table. Adam and Sheriff Moore seemed to be in an intense conversation. Whatever their topic was, it had made Adam red in the face. He had a finger crooked into his collar, as if trying to loosen its stranglehold on his neck. Was he really that nervous over meeting Bishop Zook? She could understand that. Considering the circumstances, she would do most of the talking. Perhaps that would calm him.

  Her friend, the server, walked up from behind and pushed the door open for her. “Is everything all right, Katie?”

  “Jah. Danki for the Danish.”

  “Come back anytime. And I will pray that Gott would protect you.”

  Katie nodded and stepped through the door. She quickly approached and smiled, what felt like a feeble attempt to reassure
him. But before she could sit, he glanced at the sheriff and reddened with whatever look the sheriff had on his face. What about her could possibly make him anxious? So far as she understood his job, this was routine. Seeking out bad guys, protecting innocent parties—it was all part of his position with ICE.

  Was he worried that if something happened to her, it would not look good for him in his job? Or was he bothered that he was tasked to protect her, because he had other, better, things to do? She glanced at his place at the table. The remains of half of a chicken-salad sandwich sat on his plate. Perhaps the mayonnaise wasn’t settling well in his stomach.

  “Did you have a good visit?” the sheriff asked as she sat down.

  Adam was silent, barely able to look at her. He reminded her of a boy in sixth grade who had sat behind her at school and couldn’t even utter her name when she said hello. She had eventually heard through the grapevine that the boy was sweet on her and excruciatingly shy. That couldn’t be Adam’s problem, could it?

  She focused on the sheriff, suddenly unsure what to say or do around Adam. “Jah, danki.”

  Adam stood abruptly. “Ready to visit the bishop?” Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the register, retrieving his wallet as he walked and visually scanning the exterior through the windows.

  Katie reached the front as he received his change. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with what looked like a hard swallow as he put on his straw hat. Then he turned toward the sheriff, who had followed him to the register.

  “Thank you, Sheriff.” Adam shook Sheriff Moore’s hand. “I’ll keep in touch.”

  “No problem, son. Anything you need.” The sheriff laid his bill on the counter and reached into his jacket pocket for his money clip, nodding to the server behind the register. “My deputy’s cleared the area, but go out the back. I’ll go ahead of you and double-check.”

  A few minutes later, as Adam and Katie waited in the kitchen, Sheriff Moore unlatched the back door and signaled that they could leave.