feel we need your protection, and neither does Sarah.”
Sam sighed heavily. “You are wrong.” When he had their full attention, he said, “If you do not allow us to help, Sarah will be dead before this week is over, as well as her unborn child and many of the kids who were inside that schoolhouse when the shooting occurred.”
Samuel noted the sudden pallor in Jacob’s face. He recognized bewilderment in the other men’s eyes and glimpsed hesitation in their body language, but they continued to listen.
Sam pulled out a chair and faced the men. He explained about the diamond heist and the murders of the other thieves, which led to the shoot-out in the school.
Matthew Kauffman, the third Amish man in the group, spoke up for the first time. “If you were once Amish, then you know that we cannot allow police to move into our homes. It is not our way.”
“I understand your dilemma,” Sam responded. “I assure you that although I left my Amish roots behind, I never abandoned my respect for the Amish ways.”
“You do not speak like us,” Benjamin insisted. “You sound like an Englischer.”
Sam slipped easily into the lilt of the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect. “Many years of living with the Englisch, and you can start to sound like one, ain’t so?”
“Why did you leave your home, sir?” Benjamin asked.
Sam took a moment to decide just how much he was willing to share with these men.
“In my youth, I witnessed too many things for a young boy to see. I witnessed theft of Amish goods that went unpunished. I witnessed bullying and cruelty against the Amish people, yet I could not raise my hand to retaliate.”
The men nodded.
“I witnessed worse. I witnessed drunken teens race their car into my father’s buggy just for the fun of it. My parents did not survive their prank.”
Several heartbeats of silence filled the room as everyone present absorbed what he’d said.
“The Amish forgive.” Sam shrugged. “I could not. So I left.”
“It is difficult sometimes to forgive, to not seek vengeance and to move on with life.” Jacob’s quiet voice held empathy. His eyes seemed to understand that Sam’s emotional wounds had not healed and still cut deep. “I understand how hard it can be. I just lost my only son. But...” He looked Sam straight in the eye. “It is not our place to judge.” When he spoke, his voice was soft and sad. “Judgment belongs only to God, ya?”
“And vengeance belongs to the Lord, not us,” Benjamin Miller added.
“I am not talking about vengeance,” Sam said, defending himself. “I am talking about justice.”
Jacob scrutinized Sam as if he were trying to determine his character from his words. “How do you know whether what you call justice, Detective King, is what God would call vengeance? Is it not best to leave these matters in God’s hands?”
A sad ghost of a smile twisted Sam’s lips. “I believe God intended for us to love one another, to help one another. I believe He expects us to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Children. Unborn babies. An innocent woman who doesn’t even know the gravity of her loss yet. Isn’t that God’s will?”
Jacob remained silent and pensive.
Sam had to work hard to control his emotions. There was no place in police work, particularly undercover police work, to let emotions control your actions or thoughts. But he understood these people. He’d been one of them. He knew they were pacifists who refused to fight back. If a gunman walked up and shot them dead on the street, they’d believe it was God’s will.
How was he going to make them understand the danger they were in? Or worse, defend against that danger? Jacob was their bishop. He was the one he had to win over. Sam knew the only hope he had of convincing Lapp to go along with the plan was to drive home the pain the man was still feeling from his loss. He challenged him with a hard stare.
“Are you willing to accept responsibility for the deaths of your loved ones, Bishop? Your neighbors’ loved ones? To never see your grandchild? To attend the funerals of your neighbors’ children? Because you will be killing them just as if you held the gun and shot them yourself.”
Sam’s voice had a hardened edge, but he made no apologies for his harshness. He had to make these men understand the seriousness of the situation if he stood any chance of saving their lives.
“Please, sir, listen to me,” he continued. “A stranger entered your Amish schoolhouse on a beautiful, peaceful spring afternoon. He cared only about diamonds, not about God or the sanctity of life.” Sam placed his forearms on the table and leaned closer. “This isn’t his first crime. We suspect him of many other crimes, but have been unable to bring him to justice.
“No one who would be able to describe him has lived to talk about it—except Sarah. Don’t be fooled. He will return. He will find a way to walk freely among you. He is not above using your children—perhaps killing your children—to accomplish his goals. You will never sense the danger until it is too late.”
The three men shot concerned glances at one another.
“Please,” Sam pleaded. “Even with your help, we cannot promise that he won’t succeed. We are chasing a shadow.”
Sam paused, letting the men absorb his words. He gestured toward the other law-enforcement officers in the room.
“We are not asking you to take up arms or fight back. But we cannot protect you from the outside alone. If we stand any chance of stopping this man, then we must be close. We must be on the inside. We are asking for your help.”
Jacob’s head bent, and his lips moved in silent prayer. After a few moments of silence, he wiped a tear from his cheek and turned to the other Amish men.
“How can we not help?” he asked. “This is our Sarah. Hasn’t she been hurt enough? These are our children he speaks of. Is it not our duty as parents to protect them? And what of the innocent child Sarah carries? Must we not protect that child, too?”
“Jacob, you know if this horrible thing he speaks of happens, then it is the will of God.” Benjamin’s voice was insistent. “We must accept the will of God.”
Jacob nodded slowly. “Ya, Benjamin, you are right. We must accept the will of God.” After a moment, he made eye contact with Benjamin. “Your Mary was in that classroom...and your Daniel and William.” Jacob glanced from him to the other man. “Matthew, your children, Emma, Joseph, John, Amos...they were there that terrible day, too.” His eyes implored both men. “Are we so eager to let the wolf snatch them away that we stand aside and open the door?”
Benjamin blanched as the realization of what was at stake finally hit him. Visibly shaken, he lowered his head, his voice almost a whisper. “But if it is God’s will...”
“I agree. We must accept God’s will.” Jacob leaned forward and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I have to ask you, Benjamin, how many detectives do we know who used to be Amish? Maybe sending Samuel to us is the will of God.”
The men exchanged looks, whispered together
