Sworn to Silence Read Online Free

open up.
    He looks out the window, wipes his palms on his uniform slacks. In my peripheral vision I see him glance my way. “You ever see anything like that, Chief?”
    He’s asking about the eight years I was a cop in Columbus. “Nothing this bad.”
    “He broke her teeth. Raped her. Cut her throat.” He blows out a breath, like a pressure cooker releasing steam.
“Damn.”
    At thirty, I’m not that much older than T.J., but glancing over at his youthful profile, I feel ancient. “You did okay.”
    He stares out the window and I know he doesn’t want me to see his expression. “I screwed up the crime scene.”
    “It’s not like you were expecting to walk up on a dead body.”
    “Footwear impressions might have been helpful.”
    “We still might be able to lift something.” It’s an optimistic offering. “I walked in those drag marks, too. It happens.”
    “You think Stutz knows something about the murder?” he asks.
    Isaac Stutz and his family are Amish. A culture I’m intimately acquainted with because I was born Amish in this very town a lifetime ago.
    I make an effort not to let my prejudices and preconceived notions affect my judgment. But I know Isaac personally, and I’ve always thought of him as a decent, hardworking man. “I don’t think he had anything to do with the murder,” I say. “But someone in the family might have seen something.”
    “So we’re just going to question him?”
    “
I’m
going to question him.”
    That elicits a smile. “Right,” he says.
    The lane curves left and a white clapboard farmhouse looms into view. Like most Amish farms in the area, the house is plain but well kept. A split rail fence separates the backyard from a chicken coop and pen. I see a nicely shaped cherry tree that will bear fruit in the spring. Beyond, a large barn, grain silo and windmill stand in silhouette against the predawn sky.
    Though it’s not yet five A.M ., the windows glow yellow with lantern light. I park next to a buggy and kill the engine. The sidewalk has been cleared of snow and we take it to the front door.
    The door swings open before we knock. Isaac Stutz is a man of about forty years. Sporting the traditional beard of a married Amish man, he wears a blue work shirt, dark trousers and suspenders. His eyes flick from me to T.J. and back to me.
    “I’m sorry to bother you so early, Mr. Stutz,” I begin.
    “Chief Burkholder.” He bows his head slightly and steps back, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
    I wipe my feet on the rug before entering. The house smells of coffee andfrying scrapple, an Amish breakfast staple consisting of cornmeal and pork. The kitchen is dimly lit, but warm. Ahead, a mantel clock and two lanterns rest on a homemade shelf built into the wall. Lower, three straw hats hang on wood dowels. I look beyond Isaac and see his wife, Anna, at the cast-iron stove. She is garbed in the traditional organdy
kapp
and a plain black dress. She glances at me over her shoulder. I make eye contact, but she looks away. Twenty years ago, we played together. This morning, I’m a stranger to her.
    The Amish are a close-knit community with a foundation built on worship, hard work and family. Though eighty percent of Amish children join the church when they turn eighteen, I’m one of the few who didn’t. As a result, I was put under the
bann
. Contrary to popular belief, shunning is not a type of punishment. In most cases, it’s thought to be redemptive. Tough love, if you will. But it didn’t bring me back. Because of my defection, many Amish do not wish to associate with me. I accept that because I understand the ideology of the culture, and I don’t begrudge them in any way.
    T.J. and I enter the house. Always respectful, T.J. removes his hat.
    “Would you like coffee or hot tea?” Isaac asks.
    I’d give up my side arm for a cup of hot coffee, but decline the offer. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about something that happened last night.”
    He