days raced toward him through the heavy rain, swerving on the wet roads. The driver went over the edge of the road and onto the shoulder three times, the way a frightened rabbit veers back and forth when trying to escape an oncoming car. At one point, Isaac was sure that he saw the vehicle’s left wheels lift off the surface of the road.
The driver had to be drunk or having some sort of issue, possibly health related, like a heart attack. It was also possible that it was a teenager texting. Whatever the reason for the erratic driving, he needed to pull the car over now. No one drove that way in fair weather if they were fully competent. Add in the rain pouring down, that driver was asking to hydroplane on the slick surface. Even as he watched, the back tires hit a pool of deeper water and the back end of the car fishtailed before straightening up again.
Flipping on the siren and his lights, he pulled out from beside the overpass where he had been partially hidden as he watched the traffic. Blue-and-red flashes reflected in the puddles on the road. His hands gripped the wheel as he gave chase. It was fortunate that it was midmorning and the traffic was light. Otherwise, he had no doubt that an accident would have already occurred.
The automated plate recognition system in his cruiser alerted him that the car ahead was owned by someone with a driving record. The car he was chasing down belonged to William Allister, a young man who had multiple tickets and two DUIs already on his record. Well, he was about to get another one.
Isaac wasn’t shocked when the car suddenly veered onto the narrow shoulder, although in his mind he had prepared for the scenario that Mr. Allister would try to make a run for it. A chase would not have been smart, but sometimes drivers panicked when faced with another DUI and the loss of their driver’s license.
He pulled up behind the vehicle, making sure his cruiser was partially on the road. That would make drivers move to the next lane, and it would give him a safe cushion to walk to the car without being too close to it. Isaac turned off the siren, but he left the lights on. He called in the situation to his station, along with the license plate number and the driver’s record. Patting his service weapon in his holster, he slowly exited his vehicle. It was always best to proceed with caution in these incidents. The last thing he wanted was for the person in the car to decide to pull a weapon on him or to attack. Given the way the guy had been driving, it would not shock Isaac if that was exactly what happened.
The rain poured down at a slant, hitting him clear in the face. He couldn’t afford to duck his head as he approached the car. He blinked his eyes to clear them. He needed to be able to see, to watch for potential threats. A lone car sped past him, not even bothering to move to the other side of the road. He narrowed his eyes as the vehicle continued down the road and disappeared. No doubt the driver was going above the speed limit.
As he approached, he could see that there was only one person in the car. He didn’t let himself relax. Far too often, people ducked down to hide in the floorboards. He could view into the backseat. No one was there. He scanned the rest of the vehicle. One of the back windows had been shattered. His suspicions heightened. He took a cautious step closer, enough that he could just barely make out the top of a head around the headrest. Two hands on the wheel. That was good. If he could see the hands, they weren’t reaching for a weapon. He arrived at the car window and stared. Realizing his jaw had dropped open, he closed it with a click.
William Allister might have owned the car, but he certainly wasn’t driving it. Inside the car was a young Amish woman, face wet with tears. She turned her terrified, brilliant blue eyes to him. He motioned for her to roll down the window. He had to repeat the motion twice before she complied. Suspicion darted across her face, but the terror was stronger. A tiny bit of relief mingled in her expression, as well.
Isaac understood the suspicion all too well. The Amish did not, as a rule, involve the police in their business. His own dat had refused to go to the police at a very critical time in Isaac’s life. Joshua had died, the victim of three drunk teens who had found a blind Amish youth an easy mark, and his father would not be moved to see that justice was done. Isaac pushed his memories of his younger brother from his mind. The bitterness was still too strong, even after seven years.
So was the guilt. Isaac had argued with his father, the first time in his life he had refused to give in to his dat’s commands. He’d been so angry, in fact, that Isaac had left his Amish community, and the Plain tradition in which he was raised, instead of being baptized in the faith. His father had died two years ago, and they had never reconciled. A circumstance that weighed heavy on his conscience every single day of his life. With his father’s death, any hope he might have had of ever rejoining the Amish community that his mother and sister still lived in had also died. It didn’t matter that he had not been baptized, therefore meaning he could technically maintain his ties with his community, since his father had made it very clear that if he left, he would not be welcome there anymore. He couldn’t have stayed, though. He needed to find some justice for his brother. Nothing mattered until he’d accomplished that.
He pulled his mind back to the car in front of him.
The young woman finally managed to roll the window down. It was an older vehicle, so the windows were manually controlled. Judging by the way she had to resort to using both hands, they weren’t in the best of condition, either. Her hands were shaking hard and her face was as pale as milk. Was she injured? He slid his glance over her, doing a rapid assessment. No visible injuries. Still, he couldn’t rule out injury or illness.
She was breathing fast and shallow, he noted.
“Miss, do you need help? You’re very pale, and you were driving all over the road.”
When she didn’t respond immediately, he asked again if she needed help, this time in the American-flavored German used by the Amish, sometimes known as Pennsylvania Dutch. He didn’t even stop to think about it. It had been a while since he’d spoken that dialect.
Seven years, to be exact.
Her dark blue eyes widened. She finally responded, though. “Jah, I need help.”
She burst into sobs again, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved. All he could see now was the black bonnet on her head. He frowned. Her cloak looked wet. She must have been out in the rain. Leaning over slightly, he saw the seat on the other side of her was drenched. Yep, she had definitely been out in the downpour.
An unlikely thought occurred to him. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t have stolen a vehicle, but there was still a slight possibility that she had.
“Um, ma’am, this car, did you, um, borrow it?” He didn’t want to outright ask her if she took it.
She lifted her face and bobbed her head. “Jah, I did borrow it. My driver, Bill, got out to do something, and he left me in the car for a long time. I got tired of waiting for him, so I went to find him. He was with another man. They were arguing. The other man shot him. I think he’s dead.”
Isaac’s eyes scanned the oncoming traffic for any visible threats. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean anything. Right now, he was an open target for anyone who was after the young woman in front of him. Isaac didn’t question whether or not she was making up the story. He doubted she could fake terror that deep. Even if she were making up the story, though, he still had a duty to check it out.
“You can’t sit out here in the open. And I need to get the details. Can you come back to my car? I want to call in some backup, too.”
She
