The Amish Buggy Horse BOXED SET Books 1-3 (Amish Romance Book Bundle: Faith, Hope, Charity) (Boxed Set: The Amish Buggy Horse) (20 page)

John 13: 34 - 35.

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

Chapter 5
.

Isobel pulled Blessing to a stop in front of the police station and took a deep breath. She knew why she felt nervous, and it had nothing to do with the investigation, and everything to do with being in close proximity to Detective Stutzman. She had no idea why, but she had felt an instant attraction to him, and he had been on her mind ever since. He made her heart race and her stomach churn. It was foolish to have such silly thoughts, especially over an
Englischer
. Why, the
mann
probably hardly even knew she was alive, and even if he did, he would never be interested in an Amish girl. And even if he happened to be, there was no hope of any future for an Amish with an
Englischer
. Such marriages were strictly
verboten
.

“Come on,” Isobel said to herself, taking one more breath and then climbing down from the buggy. There was a loud honk as a car in the street swerved to avoid the buggy. Isobel buried her face in her hands. She had to stop thinking about the detective. He was an
Englischer
, she told herself for the umpteenth time, but there was simply something about the detective that she admired.

Isobel tied Blessing to the rail in the place reserved for buggy parking. She hurried to the sidewalk and then to the front door of the station. Inside the station was a small lobby with faded linoleum flooring that could stand to be washed, and a long, tall desk manned by a stern-looking woman with a sharp face and short black hair.

“Hello,” Isobel said to the woman as she stopped at the desk. “My name is Isobel Slabaugh. I’m here to see Detective Stutzman.”

The woman looked up briefly, punched some keys on her computer, then nodded and opened a drawer. She pulled out a name tag that could be stuck to Isobel’s over-apron. Instead of a name, the word
Visitor
was printed across a line in thick black letters. She handed it to Isobel. “Third floor.”

With that, the woman looked back down at her computer, leaving Isobel to head to the elevators by herself. She stepped into the small box and pressed the button for the third floor. The doors slid closed in front of her and the compartment started moving upwards. There was a soft ding after it came to a stop, and the door slid open.

The third floor was a mostly open room, with desks placed in two rows within it. Men and women moved this way and that; some sat at the desks, talking on phones and typing on keyboards. It was monochrome, all gray with white desks. Isobel smoothed her apron and stepped out of the elevator. She stood there a moment, scanning the room, trying to spot Detective Stutzman.

Finally, she saw him near the back, leaning against a desk and speaking with an older man who was sitting at the desk. The older man had thinning white hair and a big belly that he barely managed to keep contained behind the desk. Isobel moved away from the elevator, weaving her way through the crowd of detectives and police officers until she came to stand behind Stutzman.

She reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun, a laugh fading from his lips.

“Oh, hello, Miss Slabaugh." His tone was less formal this time. Stutzman turned and spoke to the other man. “Don’t forget the rest of that joke, Jake,” he said. “I have something to take care of.”

Jake nodded and reached for the half eaten candy bar sitting on his desk. Detective Stutzman turned back to Isobel and then jerked his head to the side, as if to indicate
follow me
. Isobel nodded and let herself be led across the room, to a much tidier desk. The detective sat behind it and she took a seat on a small fold out chair across from him.

"Now, please describe the man to me again."

"Again?" Isobel's voice rose. "Again? But I've described him a thousand times already. I described him in that report you read.”

“Humor me, will you?” Stutzman said. His tone was now icy.

Isobel looked down at a photo on the detective's desk. It looked just like the man she had seen, judging from the brief glimpse, but the detective snatched it up and put it in a drawer. “You've found him, haven’t you?" Isobel asked.

The detective rubbed his chin. "We did find a man fitting the description you gave," he said slowly and carefully, "but it wasn’t him.”

“It has to be him. Who else could it be? I'm sure not too many people look like that,” Isobel said. The conversation was just starting and she was already feeling frustrated. “I want to see him,” she said. “May I see the picture?”

Detective Stutzman raised his hand and shook his head. “Actually, I had you come in today because, as I mentioned to you already, I want to have you sit down with a profile artist. Give him the description, and let’s see what the two of you can come up with.”

“I gave you the description already,” Isobel said, her annoyance levels rising.

“I know, but I need you to work with the Identi-Kit detective. He’ll put what you say into some computer software, and then we will get a really good understanding of what the guy looked like,” Stutzman said.

“And you didn't want me to see that photo because you think I’ll say that’s him, whether it is or not.”

The detective squirmed. “Right.”

Isobel crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, sending a cold gaze across the desk to the detective. How could she be simultaneously attracted to him and angered by him? "Why don’t you believe me?"

Peter Stutzman leaned back as well, but not in anger. He took a breath. “He has a solid alibi. More than solid, it’s airtight. He was with his lawyer. We have the lawyer confirming, and some other things I can’t tell you about.”

“You can’t tell me some things?” Isobel said, her voice rising. “My boss was murdered, and there are some things you can’t tell me?”

Matthew 5: 38 - 39.

You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also
.

Chapter 6
.

Detective Stutzman stood up. He raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Let's go see the Identi-Kit detective, okay? Talk to him, hash some things out, and let's see what you come up with.”

Isobel was exasperated. She knew what she had seen. “But what if I come up with a picture that looks exactly like the
mann
that you're so sure is innocent? What then?”

Stutzman shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s see what we get first.”

With that, he turned and walked away, beckoning for Isabel to follow. She followed him down a bare corridor until they came to another room. Inside was a desk, and at it sat a man bending over a computer.

The man at the desk, another detective, stood up at once. “My name is Scott,” the man said, before Detective Stutzman could make the introductions. He had a shock of wiry red hair and a thin face with a nose that was just a tad too long for the rest of his features. His eyes were a brilliant blue, and his smile was large and welcoming. Isabel liked him at once.

“I’m Isobel,” she said, leaning forward and shaking the man’s offered hand.

“Great, let’s get started, shall we? Come and sit in this chair beside me.” He patted a plastic chair.

“Sure.”

Stutzman butted in. "I’ll go back to my desk. Buzz me when you're finished, Scott?"

"Sure." After the detective walked away, Scott turned to Isobel. “Now, I’ll explain how this works. This is facial composite software. By the time we're finished, it will give us a highly realistic, photo-accurate, facial composition picture. It will do skin tone, everything, you name it."

Isobel felt a bit sick to the stomach. Could she even remember the man's skin tone? She wasn't sure. Yet Scott proved to be encouraging, and soon helped put her mind to rest. Isobel found it hard going at first, but presently became used to the process. They progressed through the features until they came to the eyes.

“Okay,” Scott said with a nod as his hands punched in keys. Isobel leaned over the desk to watch. "How is this right eye?"

“A little wider, but not much,” she said.

With a sweep of his mouse, Scott made it wider and Isobel nodded. "Then the other one, the left one was almost closed."

This part of the composite seemed to take longer, but finally Isobel was satisfied with the result. “Perfect,” she said. “And his lips, they were thick and wide. And he had a beard, just a little, narrow one, just on his chin.”

“A goatee?”

Isobel was puzzled, until Scott showed her something on the screen.

“Yes,” she exclaimed, "just like that. His hair was very short, and dark, although it had a lot of gray through it.”

After a while, Scott indicated the picture on the screen. “Like that?”

“Exactly like that.”

And it went on like that for nearly a half hour, after which Isobel was astounded at the likeness. Scott summoned Detective Stutzman, who returned shortly. He stood by the desk, bending over the screen. He looked at it for a long moment, while Isobel searched his face for any information she could glean. Had she described the man she was sure was guilty, or was she way off? She knew the image looked remarkably similar to the man she had seen, so similar in fact, that she had the chills.

Stutzman sighed. He sat in the chair opposite and sighed again.

“What is it? Is it him?” Isobel asked, leaning forward.

Stutzman held out the photograph to her. “It’s Raines,” he said, with resignation.

"Raines?" she said.

"I shouldn’t have said his name, but his face is already all over television. The media's already all over this." He was addressing Scott, who nodded his agreement.

Isobel looked at the photograph. She reached out slowly, and took it up between her fingertips. As their fingertips touched, a jolt ran thought Isobel. She looked up at Peter, who flushed and looked away.
He felt it too
, she thought, puzzled.

Isabel forced her attention back to the photograph. The resemblance was uncanny. Isabel assumed it was an old photograph, as the man looked much younger in it, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was, in fact, the very same man. His hair was much thicker in the old photo and there were fewer lines on his face, but the wide mouth, and especially the partially closed left eye, left her in no doubt whatsoever. “I told you,” Isabel said quietly, as she set the photograph back upon the desk.

“It can’t be him.” The detective shook his head in disbelief.

Isobel sighed. She pursed her lips, then breathed deeply through her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she saw the detective was looking right at her.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked him.

“It’s just that he has an iron clad alibi."

Isobel stood up. “It’s him. That proves it. I don’t know anything about the police stuff, but you need to figure out a way to catch that man.”

The detective stood as well, but he shook his head. “This isn’t television; it doesn’t work like that.”

Isobel looked at him. “I don't watch television," she said. "I'm Amish, obviously,” and then she turned and made her way to the elevator.

* * *

The detective watched her go. He nodded to Scott, and then returned to his desk. He didn’t want to be around people at the moment.

The Amish woman infuriated him, but at the same time, there was no denying the pull he felt toward her.
Is this your doing, God?
he silently asked. Then he chuckled aloud. His job had made him so paranoid that he even thought that God Himself was plotting against him. Yet he had to admit that he was heading in a certain direction with his life, and maybe God was in fact pushing him along a little faster.

He scratched his head, and then headed for the coffee room. Thankfully, no one was there. He poured himself a stale, over-brewed coffee while the aged drip filter machine hissed at him, seemingly annoyed to be put to work.

The detective returned to his desk and tried to do some paperwork, but the image of the beautiful Isobel Slabaugh would not leave his mind.

Matthew 18: 21 - 22.

Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.

Chapter 7
.

When Isobel returned from work that afternoon, she was concerned to see a car outside her
haus
. She looked around, but could not see anyone, so took Blessing into the barn, unharnessed him, and tended to him.

When she came out, there was still no one in sight, so she hurried into the warmth of the
haus
. There, sitting in the living room looking very much at home, was Detective Peter Stutzman. What’s more, he was tucking into a plate of pumpkin whoopie pies with cream cheese filling as he leaned back into the comfortable but worn sofa.

"You're home." Her
mudder
beamed at her. Isobel, however, noticed that her
vadder's
face was solemn.

"Hello, Detective Stutzman."

"Call me Peter, please."

Isobel's heart fluttered more earnestly. She looked around the room for somewhere to sit. The obvious place would be next to the detective, but Isobel was nervous enough already. Her
vadder
decided for her. "Sit down, Isobel," he said, pointing to the sofa.

Isobel went to the sofa and sat down, glad that there was room for three people. She sat up the furthest end to get as far as she could from the attractive detective, and leaned against the thick arm of the sofa.

"Now, Isobel," Mr. Slabaugh said, "Peter has brought locks for all our doors and windows and has spent quite some time fitting them all."

Isobel's jaw fell open. Locks on the doors? Whatever would happen next? No Amish in the community had locks on their doors. And for how long had her
vadder
and the detective been on a first name basis?

Her
vadder
was still talking. "Peter has been telling us about the situation, and he advises us that you shouldn't go to the store anymore."

"But,
Datt
," Isobel spluttered, and would have said more, but her
vadder
held up his hand. "
Nee
, it is for the best, Isobel."

"But what about Mrs. Harrison?" Isobel knew that it would be disrespectful to argue with her
vadder
, but she was concerned for Peggy Harrison who had asked her to keep the store open.

Peter Stutzman turned to her. "I've spoken to Mrs. Harrison and advised her of the circumstances, and she fully agrees that the store must remain shut until this all blows over."

"But she needs the money," Isobel said in a small voice.

Peter simply shrugged. "Mrs. Harrison told me that she was thinking of selling the store and her apartment, and living permanently with her sister."

And so that was that. Isobel was more than a little annoyed that the handsome Peter Stutzman had gone behind her back and gone straight to her parents to get their support. The three of them were taking sides against her. Worse still, her parents seemed to be getting on very well with the detective.

"Peter also says you must carry a cell phone." Her
vadder's
voice was firm.

A cell phone?
Her voice rose with dismay. Isobel looked from her
vadder
to her
mudder
, but they were both expressionless. "But we're not allowed to have cell phones."

Peter Stutzman waved one hand expressively. "That's okay; I've cleared it with the bishop. He agrees that you need to have a cell phone with you at all times due to the seriousness of the situation."

Isobel again looked from one parent to another, but this time they were both nodding. "
Datt
,
Mamm
, surely you can’t agree with this?" she asked them.

"It’s for your own safety," Peter said.

Isobel shot him a glare. Her whole world was being turned upside down. Now there were four people against her: her parents, the bishop, and the detective.
Well, not exactly against me
, she told herself, trying to come to terms with the situation, but she felt as if she had lost her independence. She no longer had a job, and now the very details of her life were being decided for her.

Peter pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and moved closer to Isobel. Her heart fluttered wildly and her breath came in short gasps. "I'll show you how it works," he said. "My number is already in there. All you have to do is sweep your finger across it at the bottom to open it, like this," - he demonstrated - "and now it’s open."

Their fingers touched for a brief moment, and Isobel was not prepared for the powerful jolt that ran through her. She kept her eyes averted, not wanting the detective to see the effect he had on her.

The detective was still talking. "Now, you can see how it works?

Isobel nodded, looking aghast at the sight of the cell phone. She had not gone on
rumspringa
and had never used a cell phone before.

"And my number is the only number in there. I've put it in
Favorites
to make it easier and faster for you to call me, in case of,
err
, well, should you need to call me in a hurry."

The full weight of the situation settled on Isobel like a cold, dark, heavy blanket.
Should she need to call in a hurry
. Did the detective really think the
mann
would come for her as she was the witness? She shuddered involuntarily.

Peter made Isobel call him several times, to make sure she knew how to use it.

Finally, Isobel asked the question she had been dreading asking, for she did not really want to hear the answer spoken out aloud. "Detective, am I in danger?"

She saw a flash of concern pass across the detective's face but he hid it just as quickly. "I don't know, Isobel. If it is Raines, the man you are convinced you saw, he is a dangerous man, but as he has a water-tight alibi, he might not risk,
err
, coming after the only witness."

"But as I'm the only witness, won't he want to…" Isobel's voice trailed off, and she was embarrassed to hear her own voice sounding so shaken.

To her relief, the detective shook his head. "No,
if
it is Raines, it will look suspicious if he does try anything, and he can rest on his alibi."

"What if it isn’t the same
mann
?" her
vadder
asked, his voice full of concern.

Peter Stutzman shifted in his seat. "Your daughter is convinced it is the same man," he said. "What’s more, the Identi-Kit image was the same as the Raines' image."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?

Everyone turned to look at Mrs. Slabaugh. The question had come out of the blue.

"Thank you, Mrs. Slabaugh, but I had better be getting home. Thank you so much for your time." Peter stood up, and looked down at Isobel. "Are you sure you know how to use the cell phone now?"

Isobel nodded.

"Please remember to keep it on you at all times, no matter what."

Isobel nodded again and watched her
vadder
show the detective to the door. Part of her was pleased he was leaving, but part of her was sorely disappointed that he had not accepted her
mudder's
invitation to stay for dinner.