eased some of his misgivings. She was more familiar with the Amish in the Hope Springs area than almost anyone. If she thought he was doing the right thing, he was willing to follow her recommendation.
Miriam didn’t say another word. It was a struggle to keep from staring at her. He couldn’t believe she still had such a profound effect on him. He had stopped seeing her the summer he turned twenty because he knew how strong her faith was and how important it was to her. He hadn’t been willing to make her choose between her religion and his love.
The truth was he’d been afraid he would come out the loser. As it turned out, he had, only for a different reason.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve checked for reports of missing or abducted infants. Just because you saw an Amish buggy driving away doesn’t automatically make this an Amish infant. Fortunately, there aren’t any babies under one week of age that have gone missing nationwide. We’ll go with your theory until there is evidence otherwise. If an infant girl is reported missing, that changes everything.”
He paused. They weren’t going to like the rest of what he had to say. “Now, I’m not willing to let someone who dropped a baby on your doorstep just waltz in and take her back. If they do show up, this will be immediately reported to Social Services.”
Miriam glared at him. “I thought the point of us keeping the baby was to avoid that?”
“By letting you keep the baby, I’m making it easier for the mother to return or for her family to come forward when they might not do so otherwise. I’m sorry. I won’t budge on this. Someone who is desperate enough to leave her child with you in the dead of night needs help—she needs counseling. I mean to see that she gets it.”
The women exchanged looks. Ada and Miriam nodded. Nick breathed a mental sigh of relief. He said, “The note is too vague to open an official investigation into the mother’s whereabouts. I see concern, but there is no evidence of a crime. ‘It’s not safe’ could mean any number of things. However, I agree that we need to make an effort to find this young woman. The sooner, the better.”
Amber threw her arms around him. “You’re the best cousin I could ever ask for.”
“That’s not what you said when I wouldn’t tear up your speeding ticket.”
Amber blushed and cast a quick look at Miriam. “He’s joking.”
He rolled his eyes. “Right. Ladies, I don’t want word of this baby getting out to the general public. Keep it in the Amish community and keep a lid on it.”
Miriam frowned. “I would think public exposure is exactly what we want.”
“When news of an abandoned baby surfaces, the nut cases come out of the woodwork. Women who desperately want children will claim it’s their baby. Some are crazy enough that they will try to take legal action against you. People who want to adopt and simple do-gooders will come forward with offers to take the child. Trust me, it could become a media circus and a nightmare trying to sift fact from fiction.”
“All right. Where do we start?” Amber asked.
“We can start by trying to tie the basket or the quilt to a specific family.”
Ada spread the blanket open on the table so they could examine it. It was a simple quilt of patchwork blocks with a backing of blue-gray cotton. She said, “I don’t see a signature or date, nor do I recognize the stitch work. It’s fine work. Perhaps someone in the community will recognize it.”
Nick put the basket on the quilt and snapped several pictures with his cell phone. “I’ll email these photos to some of the shops that carry Amish goods. Maybe we’ll get a hit that way.”
Amber’s cell phone rang. She opened it and walked away to speak to the caller.
“What else can we do?” Miriam asked.
“Do you recall what kind of buggy it was?”
“It was dark. I saw a shape, not much else.”
“Did it have an orange triangle on the back, reflective tape or lights?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“So we can’t even rule out the Swartzentruber Amish families in this area. They don’t use the slow-moving-vehicle signs. What about the horse? Could you recognize it again if you saw it?”
“No, I didn’t see the animal, just the back of the buggy.”
Amber returned to the room and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I have a patient in labor. Miriam, I’ll leave the car seat with you. Nick, can you help me get it out of my car?”
“Sure.” He followed his cousin outside to her station wagon knowing she was going to grill him about his past relationship with Miriam.
Amber opened the door to the backseat. “It sounds like you have a history with the Kauffman family. Why don’t I know about it?”
He leaned in to unbuckle the child safety seat. “It was years ago. You were away at school.”
“Care to fill me in now?”
Lifting the seat out of the car, he set it on the roof and stared out across the fertile farmlands waiting for spring planting. He could hear cattle lowing in the distance and birds chirping in the trees. The tranquility of the scene was at odds with his memory of that long-ago night.
He closed his eyes. “The summer I turned nineteen, I started working for Mr. Kauffman as a farmhand. They lived over on the other side of Millersburg back then. It was our grandmother’s idea. She thought I should learn how hard it was to work a farm the way the Amish do. She thought it would give me a better appreciation of the land.”
“Grandmother is usually right,” Amber said with a twinkle in her eye.
“She is. Anyway, I worked there for two summers. Miriam, her brother Mark and I became good friends.”
“Why do I sense you and Miriam were more than friends?”
“We were kids. We fell in love with the idea of being in love, but she was strict, Old Order Amish. We both knew it wouldn’t work. We chose to remain friends. It wasn’t until a few years later that things changed.”
“What happened?”
Nick took a stick of gum from his pocket using the added time to keep his emotions in check. Even now, it was hard to talk about that night. He popped the gum in his mouth, deftly folded the foil into a small star and dropped it back in his shirt pocket.
“Ten years ago I was a brand-new deputy and a bit of a hotshot back then. I didn’t go looking for trouble, but I didn’t mind if I found it. One night, we got a report of a stolen car. On the way to investigate, I caught sight of the vehicle and put on my lights. The driver didn’t stop. Long story short, a high-speed chase ensued. A very dangerous chase.”
“What else were you supposed to do?”
“Protocol leaves it up to the responding officer’s discretion. What I should have done was drop back and stop pressing him when I saw the risks he was willing to take. I should have called for a roadblock
