all.
“Can you tell me anything about that day?” he prodded. “Sometimes the slightest detail that you might think is unimportant can turn into a lead. If you didn’t see the shooter’s face, can you remember his height? The color of his skin? What he wore? Anything he might have said?”
He paused, giving her time to collect her thoughts, but only moments later the questions came again.
“If you don’t remember seeing anything, use your other senses. Did you hear anything? Smell anything?”
She opened her eyes and stared into his. “I told you.” She choked back a sob. “I can’t...can’t remember. I can’t remember anything at all.”
His wrinkled brow and deep frown let her know this wasn’t what he had expected.
“Maybe you should rest now. I’ll be back, and we can talk more later.”
Sarah watched him cross to the door. Once he was gone, she stared at her hand and wondered why the touch of a stranger had made her feel so safe.
* * *
Sam stood in the corridor and tried to collect his thoughts.
Sarah.
He hadn’t expected to be so touched by her unfortunate circumstances. He had a policy to never let emotions play a part when he was undercover or protecting a witness. Sarah Lapp was a job, nothing more, and he had no business feeling anything for her one way or the other.
But he had to admit there was something about her. He’d been moved by the vulnerability he saw in her face, the fear he read in her eyes. She was terrified. Yet she had stayed calm, processing everything he had to tell her with quiet grace.
She’d been visibly upset when Sam had told her about the shooting. She’d seemed shocked when he informed her that her husband had been killed. But learning that she had had a husband at all seemed to affect her the most.
He hadn’t had an opportunity yet to talk with Sarah’s doctors about the full extent of her injuries. Was she really suffering from memory loss, and if so, was it a temporary setback or a permanent situation?
Sam often relied heavily on his gut. His instincts this time were warning him that he had just stepped into a much more complicated situation than he had first thought.
He needed to talk with the doctor.
When he glanced down the hall, he saw Dr. Clark, as well as several members of the police force, including his superior, with three Amish men in tow. Dr. Clark ushered the entire group into a nearby conference room and gestured for Sam to join them.
Once inside, Sam crossed the room and leaned against the far wall. He saw the men shoot furtive glances his way and knew they were confused by his Amish clothing.
He didn’t blame them. He was disconcerted by it, too. He hadn’t donned this type of clothing for fifteen years. Yet his fingers never hesitated when he fastened the suspenders. The straw hat had rested upon his head like it was meant to be there.
Jacob Lapp, identifying himself as the bishop of their community and acting as spokesperson for their group, addressed Captain Rogers.
“We do not understand, sir. Why have you brought us here?”
“Please, gentlemen, have a seat.” Captain Rogers gestured toward the chairs around the table. “Dr. Clark wants to update you on Sarah’s condition.”
They pulled out chairs and sat down.
Dr. Clark spoke from his position at the head of the table. “Sarah is in a very fragile state. She was shot twice in the back, once in the arm and once in the head. She has a long road to recovery, but I believe she will recover. To complicate matters, she is suffering from amnesia.”
“Will her memory return?” Jacob asked.
“I’m afraid I honestly don’t know. Only time will tell.”
The man on Jacob’s left spoke. “Excuse me, sir. My name is Benjamin Miller. I do not understand this thing you call amnesia. I had a neighbor who got kicked in the head by his mule. He forgot what happened with his mule, but he didn’t forget everything else. He still remembered who he was, who his family was. Why can’t Sarah?”
The doctor smiled. “It is common for a person not to remember a traumatic event but to remember everything else. What is less common, but still occurs, is a deeper memory loss. Some people forget everything—like Sarah.”
“When she gets better, she will remember again, ya?” Jacob twirled his black felt hat in circles on the table.
“I hope that once she returns home, familiar surroundings will help, but I cannot promise anything,” the doctor replied.
The men looked at each other and nodded.
“There is something else. Sarah is sixteen weeks pregnant.”
Sam felt like someone had suddenly punched him in the gut. Wow, this woman couldn’t catch a break. As if amnesia, gunshot wounds and widowhood wasn’t enough for her to handle. He raised an eyebrow, but steeled himself to show no other reaction to the news.
The doctor waited for the men at the table to digest the information before he locked eyes with Jacob. “Mrs. Lapp has informed me that Sarah has had two prior miscarriages.”
Jacob nodded but remained silent. The information regarding this pregnancy seemed to weigh heavily upon him.
“I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Lapp, that even though she has made it into her second trimester, she still might lose the child. She has experienced severe trauma to her body, and currently she is under emotional stress as well.”
“With my son gone, this will be our only grandchild.” Jacob’s eyes clouded over. “What can we do to help?”
“You can allow me to protect her.” Sam pushed away from the wall and approached the table.
The bishop’s expression revealed his confusion. “Protect Sarah? I don’t understand, sir. The man who hurt Sarah is gone, ya? She is safe now.” Jacob looked directly at Sam. “Excuse me, sir. We do not recognize you. What community do you call home?”
Captain Rogers nodded permission for Sam to answer the questions.
“My name is Detective Samuel King. Standing to my left is my partner, Detective Masterson. To his right is Special Agent Lopez from the FBI. We believe Sarah is in grave danger.”
“From whom?” Benjamin spoke up, gesturing with his arm to the men sitting on either side of him. “Her family? Her friends?”
Sam addressed his words to Bishop Lapp. “Since I was raised Amish, Captain Rogers thought it might be easier for me to blend in with your community as Sarah’s protective detail.”
All three men gasped, then turned and whispered in their native Pennsylvania German dialect commonly known as Pennsylvania Dutch.
Sam understood not only the words, but also the emotions and objections the men were expressing. The Amish do not
