SECOND CHANCE PROTECTOR

When a speeding car almost hits Dr. Christina Jennings, it’s the quick reflexes of FBI agent Dylan Hunter that save her. They soon realize the driver’s purpose—dumping an unconscious Amish girl on Christina’s doorstep. The small-town doctor’s set on finding out who’s responsible, but doing so throws her into the path of a killer…and leads her to a past she’d rather forget. On leave after his partner’s death, Dylan can’t possibly ignore the need to keep Christina safe. But as the man who once shattered her heart, he has to convince her to trust him first. Because the deeper Christina’s propelled straight into danger, the more she comes to believe that relying on Dylan may be her only chance for survival.

“What is it?” Christina hated the shaky quality of her voice.

Dylan placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “Come on. We can call the sheriff. Then have your car towed.”

“No, I need to see.” Christina brushed past him and peered through the hole in the driver’s side window. Shards of glass dangled from the hole, waiting for gravity to drop them to the ground.

She blinked a few times, trying to process the scene. Her vision narrowed and tiny dots danced in her line of vision. Whoever did this didn’t leave a note. Instead, they had left a large knife sticking out of her headrest.

Christina turned around, squaring her shoulders. Steeling her spine. “Who would do this?” Had Roger already made good on his promise to make her sorry if she caused trouble?

The look of compassion on Dylan’s face weakened her resolve. She wasn’t used to relying on anyone. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“We’re going to find out. And I won’t let you out of my sight until we do.”

ALISON STONE lives with her husband of more than twenty years and their four children in Western New York. Besides writing, Alison keeps busy volunteering at her children’s schools, driving her girls to dance and watching her boys race motocross. Alison loves to hear from her readers at Alison@AlisonStone.com. For more information, please visit her website, alisonstone.com. She’s also chatty on Twitter, @alison_stone. Find her on Facebook at Facebook.com/alisonstoneauthor.

Plain Cover-Up
Alison Stone

www.millsandboon.co.uk

You are my hiding place;

You will protect me from trouble

and surround me with songs of deliverance.

—Psalms 32:7

To Scott, Scotty, Alex, Kelsey & Leah.

Love you guys always and forever.

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TITLE PAGE

BIBLE VERSE

DEDICATION

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

ONE

The gathering storm clouds hastened nightfall’s arrival. In the distance, lightning split the sky. Christina groaned. If she hadn’t been so swamped at the healthcare clinic, she might have taken a second to check the weather forecast and realized a more prudent decision would have involved driving to the Apple Creek Diner for takeout versus walking the half mile.

A gust of wind whipped up and rustled through the trees, thick with green foliage after a harsh northern winter. The air was heavy with the expectation of rain. Dr. Christina Jennings wrapped the plastic handle of the takeout bag around her wrist and quickened her pace. The thought of getting drenched when she still had hours of paperwork to do in the clinic was about as appealing as, well, dealing with the paperwork itself.

As the soft footsteps of her tennis shoes sounded on the pavement, fingers of awareness kneaded the back of her neck and she resisted the urge to glance back at the diner. No doubt Dylan Hunter had a perfect view of her on the street from his window booth when she left the diner. She refused to let this man occupy her thoughts. A man who had broken her heart in two.

Christina’s stomach growled, snapping her focus back to the purpose of her short break from work. The thought of the BLT sandwich in the bag dangling off her wrist made her walk even faster. She was so hungry.

Georgia Summers, the newly hired physician assistant at the clinic, often joked that Christina probably would never stop working if she could find a way to function on no food and zero sleep. The sleep she sacrificed, food, not so much. Christina smiled at the memory of Georgia’s laugh. It was nice to have someone to work with after running the clinic by herself for so many years.

With her free hand, Christina pulled her light jacket closed and fastened the zipper at the bottom. A shudder twined its way up her spine, making her feel unsettled.

Had chatting with Dylan for a few moments at the diner really thrown her this off balance?

Christina had carefully avoided him since he moved to Apple Creek earlier in the year to teach at the law school. She still had no idea why he was on leave from the FBI, his self-proclaimed dream job. And frankly she didn’t care. She figured he had lost interest and moved onto his next thing, much like he had done with her. Maybe he’d go back. Maybe he wouldn’t.

But tonight she’d had no choice but to make small talk with him because the diner was empty and Flo, the long-time waitress, took a while to pull her order together. If Christina had been suspicious by nature, she’d have thought Flo’s delay had been intentional.

What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. Franny’s favorite expression floated to mind. Well, one of many favorite expressions of her parents’ housekeeper.

A deep rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Maybe she should have taken the ride Dylan had offered.

She probably would have taken the offer if it had come from anybody else.

Christina hustled past the stores on Main Street to the residences with postage-stamp-size lawns. She used to rent one of these apartments, until she’d realized she wanted a more rural setting where she could have privacy.

Cigarette smoke wafted in her direction. Instinctively, she turned to see where it was coming from, but could only see the red glow of a cigarette in the shadows. Feeling like she was being watched, she squared her shoulders and walked with an air of authority.

Don’t walk like a victim.

The notion that a victim somehow asked for it by acting a certain way made her bristle. However, being aware of one’s surroundings was always a good idea. A college student had been attacked in the nearby apartments a couple of weeks ago.

Christina had treated the woman for minor injuries, including a superficial knife wound across her cheek. Thank goodness the young woman had gotten away, but Christina and her brother, Deputy Nick Jennings, worried the attacker might grow bolder. The woman couldn’t identify whoever had assaulted her, and any leads had dried up.

Maybe that’s where Christina’s apprehension stemmed from. It had everything to do with a recent attack and nothing to do with seeing Dylan Hunter again.

Christina kept her steady pace, refusing to live in fear.

Been there, done that.

However, there was something to be said about being smart. Safe. Christina walked more briskly, ignoring the whisper of dread sending goose bumps across her flesh.

A gust of wind picked up and whipped loose strands of hair across her face. She hooked a piece of hair with her free hand and dragged it out of her mouth. Even though they were a month away from the official start of summer, a storm could sweep in and drop the temperature by ten or even twenty degrees. All she had on was a light jacket.

A fat drop of rain hit her head. Christina held up her palm to confirm what her head already knew. With her free hand, she flipped up the hood on her spring jacket.

Christina untwisted the plastic bag from around her wrist, fearing it was cutting off the circulation to her tingling fingers. She switched hands and focused on the crunching of the gravel under her feet as she turned onto the country road. The healthcare clinic was only a hundred yards or so away, across the street from some ball fields. If she hurried, she’d make it before the skies opened up.

Too late.

The intermittent drops turned into a wall of torrential rain. Holding her jacket closed with both hands—the bag dangling from her hand—Christina ran toward the clinic with her head down. Her dinner in the plastic bag banged against the tops of her thighs. Already she lamented the demise of her sandwich.

The slam of a car door made Christina glance up. The headlights of a sedan parked in front of the clinic blinded her. She squinted against the brightness, the rain peppering her face. Unease slid its way up her spine.

Heart thundering in her chest, she raced toward the car. Perhaps someone had had an emergency. She waved to them in case they had come looking for her and found the clinic locked. Christina had told Georgia to leave if she needed to and to put a sign on the door that the physician would be right back.

As Christina got closer to the vehicle, the hairs on her arms prickled to life as if charged by an electrical storm. The pounding of rain on the metal gutters of the nondescript building mingled with her frantic heartbeat. The car’s tires spun before gaining traction in the gravel parking lot.

Christina dropped her takeout bag and waved her arms frantically. Maybe they couldn’t see her in the rain. The car covered the ground between them. Christina froze for the briefest of seconds before she saw a dark form bearing down on her out of the corner of her eye.

Christina closed her eyes tight as she was shoved sideways and a man landed on top of her. Her shoulder hit the ground with a resounding thud. She groaned. The sound of gravel churning close to her head sent terror racing through her heart.

Shivering with icy panic, Christina opened her eyes a fraction and saw Dylan Hunter staring down at her. “You okay?”

“I...um...” Christina shifted her head to see the rain and dusk swallowing up the taillights of the vehicle that had officially ruined her evening.

Dylan rolled off her and stood. He held out his hand to help her up, his gaze locked on the departing car. Her wet hair whipped against her face. Before she had time to mourn the loss of her BLT—now scattered across the gravel—she acknowledged her gratitude.

Thank you, Lord, for protecting me from that car. For keeping me safe.

Getting to her feet, her hand still in his solid grasp, she shook her head in disbelief. “What in the world...?”

“I was only able to get a partial plate. It’s something. And he had a busted taillight,” Dylan bit out between breaths.

Where had Dylan come from?

It was then that she noticed his truck and the driver’s side door yawning open on the side of the road, as if he had arrived just in time to push her out of the way.

Something drew her attention to the front door of the clinic. In the dim light of the bulb on the overhang, she saw a heap of fabric. Renewed fear zinged through her system, immediately making her forget about her near-death experience.

Christina yanked her hand out of Dylan’s and ran toward the door. As she approached, she recognized the traditional Amish dress, boots and bonnet.

Her pulse spiked. “Naomi!” The young Amish woman, now curled up by the brick wall of the clinic, cleaned her office twice a week.

“Naomi,” Christina said again, this time more urgently. She touched the young woman’s face and her head lolled back, her eyes closed. Christina glanced over her shoulder and yelled to Dylan who was only steps away, “Help me get her into the clinic.”

With wet, cold, shaky fingers, Christina struggled to dig her keys out of the back pocket of her jeans, all the while repeating a prayer for poor Naomi. The metal key skidded across the lock before Christina was able to insert it into the slot and unlock the door.

Christina pushed the door wide for Dylan and pressed herself firmly against it as he carried her Amish friend over the threshold like a bride. “Follow me to the back exam room.”

Christina strode down the narrow hallway, slapping at light switches as she went. Her heartbeat jackhammered, her body’s automatic response to an emergency. It had served her well as a physician. Her brother always laughed at her and told her she would have been good in times of war. But that had been his gig.

Hers was helping people who couldn’t afford healthcare.

Hers was saving lives.

“Back here,” Christina repeated unnecessarily as Dylan strode down the hall right behind her, carrying Naomi. The young woman’s head flopped against Dylan’s chest. Christina willed Naomi to open her eyes. Respond to them. Respond to something.

Christina reached the first exam room and pushed open the door. It bounced off the wall with a force she hadn’t intended. She reached in and flipped the last switch. The fluorescent bulbs flickered and buzzed to life. One of these days she’d have to replace these migraine-inducing lights, but she hated to ask her parents for additional funds that didn’t go directly toward patient care.

Despite her parents’ wealth and generosity, funds weren’t unlimited. They had drilled that into her when she was a little girl. The Jenningses understood the value of money and what it could achieve. People had to be good stewards of their blessings. And, like on most everyone else, the economy had been tough on Jennings Enterprises.

Christina shuffled out of the way and grabbed her stethoscope from the hook. Dylan laid Naomi down on the crinkly paper covering the table. Christina found a steady pulse and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Grab a blanket from the top shelf in the closet in the hallway,” she commanded Dylan without turning to look at him.

He slipped out of the room.

“Hello, hello... Naomi.” Christina patted the young woman’s cheek. “You’re at the healthcare clinic with Dr. Christina... You’re safe.”

“Here, I have the blanket and I found some dry clothes in the same closet,” Dylan said as he burst back into the room. He moved with the efficiency of a man who was good at dealing with emergencies. The FBI had probably instilled that in him.

“Thank you.”

Dylan unfolded the blanket and placed it over the Amish woman. “You know her?”

Christina nodded. “Yes, she does some light cleaning for me here at the clinic a few days a week. Her name’s Naomi Mullet. I’ve gotten to know her because I’m usually still working when she arrives to clean.”

The young woman stirred and Christina snapped her attention back to her patient and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “You’re safe, Naomi. It’s Dr. Christina.”

Dylan pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll call the sheriff.”

“Neh...neh...” The Amish woman muttered, her voice groggy.

“You’re safe,” Christina repeated. She brushed the back of her knuckles across Naomi’s cool cheek—Christina would have to get her to change into the dry clothes—and watched as Naomi struggled to open her eyes a fraction.

The woman strained against the blanket and Christina put her hand on her shoulder to reassure her. “Take it easy. You’re safe. You’re at the clinic.”

“No police. Please. And don’t tell my mem and dat.” Naomi’s voice was racked with panic as she gained awareness of her surroundings.

Christina nodded, understanding Naomi’s aversion to the police, but not sure why she wouldn’t want her parents notified. As far as the police went, the Amish customarily preferred to deal with things on their own.

However, someone had hurt Naomi and dumped her at the clinic’s front door. This was the second woman who had been injured in Apple Creek in recent weeks. Christina’s mind immediately jumped to the first logical thought: were the assaults connected? It seemed a stretch, yet both women were rendered unconscious and things like this didn’t often happen in the small town.

But Naomi’s panicked expression gave Christina pause. Calling the sheriff would have to wait. Naomi’s well-being came first. Maybe she could convince the young Amish woman later, once she had a chance to clear her head. Christina had to swallow the anger simmering below the surface. Not only for this woman, but for the other victim and a younger version of herself. A younger version who had been too afraid to accuse her attacker. A younger version who had also chosen to remain silent.

Christina brushed her hand across her face and forced away the thought. She studied Dylan, hoping he hadn’t noticed her moment of weakness.

“Hold off on making any calls.” Christina’s tone was far calmer than the emotions rioting inside her. She wanted to find whoever had dumped her dear friend off and nearly run over her. She wanted to find him and... She shook away the less-than-Christian thoughts.

Christina had to find justice for this young woman, her friend, one way or another. Over the years, Christina had taken pride in helping a handful of abused women escape their abusers and create new lives elsewhere.

The adrenaline surging through her veins was making her thoughts race out of control. She didn’t even know what happened to Naomi, yet. Maybe Christina had completely misread the situation.

Naomi struggled to sit up, her bonnet askew on her head. Christina held Naomi’s arm and helped her to a sitting position. She stood close, watching Naomi for any signs that she was going to pass out or be sick. She conducted a few tests to check for a concussion. Christina suspected the young woman had been drugged. The normally chatty Amish woman’s eyes were wide with fear. A tremble seemed to ripple through her when she locked gazes with Dylan.

Understanding better than most, Christina smiled apologetically at Dylan. “Can you give us privacy for a minute?”

“Sure.” Unspoken understanding stretched between them. “I’ll be in the hallway.”

“And Dylan,” Christina added, “don’t call the sheriff.”

The Amish woman gasped in relief. “Denki.” Thank you.

The door clicked closed and Christina turned back to the young woman. “Naomi, who did this to you?”

Naomi averted her eyes and shook her head. “Neh.”

“What happened?”

Silence.

“You can trust me. I’ll help you.” Christina brushed her fingers along a tender bruise on the young woman’s cheek. Naomi flinched.

“I don’t know.”

Christina took a steadying breath. “You don’t have to be afraid.” A memory never far from the surface weighed on Christina’s lungs. With determination, she focused on what was right in front of her. Naomi. Her patient. Christina could help her.

Christina had always focused on what was right in front of her. Her education. Her career. Never deviating from the path.

It’s what kept her sane.

Naomi looked up and fear flickered across her face. “I went to a barn party with a friend.” She blinked slowly. “I don’t remember much else.”

Christina clasped her hands in front of her, suspecting Naomi was intentionally being evasive. However, she feared Naomi had been drugged. Perhaps someone had spiked her drink. Or maybe she had been unaccustomed to drinking and had overdone it?

“Have you been drinking?” Christina cringed at the unintended accusation in her tone. Even if Naomi had been drinking, she didn’t deserve to be attacked and dumped like yesterday’s garbage in a parking lot.

Christina’s mind flashed back to her college roommate’s accusatory tone when Christina began to relate her own story after an incident with a man she had trusted.

Are you sure you weren’t a tease? I can’t believe he’d do that to you. He’s such a nice guy. And a friend of your brother’s. He has a wife and kid. Why would he attack you?

As if any of those reasons would stop a predator. As if her roommate’s disbelief and uncertainty had made what happened to Christina less real. Despite the unease quivering in her stomach, Christina placed her hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Even if you did drink, you didn’t deserve to get attacked.”

“One beer,” Naomi said, her voice hoarse. The Amish woman studied her clenched hands in her lap, shame radiating from her hunched posture. “I didn’t plan to drink. I wanted...” Her voice trailed off as if she was carefully measuring how much to reveal.

Christina had been drinking the night she was attacked. Perhaps too much.

A night of hazy memories and accusations.

“Naomi, you can trust me. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Tell me what you remember.”

The Amish woman tugged at a blue and purple yarn bracelet on her wrist, such a small thing but it showed she was straddling two worlds. “I told you everything I remember.”

“Who brought you here?” Christina asked, trying to coax out the answers Naomi was holding back.

Naomi shrugged. A single tear trailed down her cheek. “It’s all so fuzzy. Where did you find me?”

“Outside in the rain.” Christina tilted her head to study the young woman. A deep line creased Naomi’s forehead as if they were discussing someone else altogether.

“You don’t remember?”

Naomi shook her head again. “My Englisch friend Cheryl brought me to the party, but I lost track of her.” Her eyes flashed wide. “It wonders me if something happened to her.” Naomi’s entire body trembled and her lower lip had turned a disconcerting shade of blue.

“Is Cheryl the friend who sometimes drives you to work?”

“Yah. Do you know where she is?”

Christina placed her hand on Naomi’s arm. “We’ll find out. First I need you to change into this gown for an exam.”

“Neh, neh...” Naomi fisted the fabric of her dress at her chest. She shook her head and what little color she had in her cheeks visibly drained.

“You have a right to refuse any exam, but if someone hurt you,” Christina spoke softly so as not to further spook her young Amish friend, “we need to collect evidence.”

“Neh, I don’t want anyone to know. Please.”

Christina’s heart broke for the young woman and she fought to remain calm. She patted the sweatpants and sweatshirt sitting on the exam table. “Would you give me a urine sample? It would help us determine the drugs in your system. You can use the bathroom right there.”

“I didn’t take drugs. I don’t do drugs.”

“Someone could have slipped you something in a drink.”

“I only had one beer.” Naomi bowed her head. “I shouldn’t have had that.”

“No, one’s blaming you.” Christina smiled. “I’d like to do a test to check.”

Naomi seemed hesitant at first, then agreed.

“Okay, then. Take care of the sample, then change into these dry clothes. We’ll chat once you’re dry.”

“You’re not going to call the sheriff?”

Again, Christina carefully phrased her reply. “No, not unless you agree. I believe we should, but I’ll respect your wishes.” She smiled again, trying to reassure Naomi that she could trust her. “Take care of this—” she tapped the specimen container “—then get dressed.”

Naomi looked up at her with trusting eyes and Christina worried that she wasn’t worthy of such confidence. Such trust. Trust she had repeatedly sought from other victimized women who had come through her clinic over the years.

It was a long road.

Christina had failed miserably in protecting herself. She had allowed one night—one man—to define her. To shape her choices.

But would helping Naomi put Christina in harm’s way? Had it already? Christina touched her arm, tender from landing hard on it when Dylan pushed her out of the path of the racing car.

None of that mattered. She had to help Naomi.

Christina patted Naomi’s hand, making a silent promise that she’d protect the woman. To help her not let tonight define who she was.

Dear God, help me do right by this young woman.

TWO

Dylan drummed his fingers on the counter-height surface outside of the exam room in the rear of the Apple Creek Healthcare Clinic. He understood the young Amish woman’s need for privacy, but he was eager to learn who had dropped her off at the clinic because that same person tried to run Christina over with his vehicle.

It didn’t make sense. Someone cared enough to drop Naomi off here, but had recklessly aimed their vehicle at the physician meant to help her. Clearly whoever it was wasn’t thinking. Period.

Or perhaps they hadn’t realized the figure walking toward them was the physician. Either way, they were reckless and needed to be found.

The cold fingers of dread scraped across the back of his neck. What if he hadn’t hopped into his truck to see if Christina needed a ride with the approaching storm? She had refused his offer at the diner, and she could be stubborn. She had proven that by giving him the cold shoulder ever since he moved back to Apple Creek in January. Five months of polite greetings on the street. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He supposed he deserved that. He had broken up with Christina when they were both at Genwego State. She’d been an undergraduate and he was finishing up law school. He had told her he wanted to move to Buffalo to be an FBI agent and had no plans of settling down, least of all in Apple Creek. The breakup had been both efficient and cruel.

But life had a way of getting back at him, dishing out a hearty helping of cruelty. Now here he was serving as an interim professor at his alma mater, on extended leave from the FBI. He hadn’t been the kind of agent he had hoped to be, and his partner, Special Agent Nora Reed, had paid the ultimate price. And when an opening came up at the law school, he figured, why not? It gave him something to do besides ruminate over his failings.

Dylan shook his head, trying to dispel the dark clouds forever hovering over him. He paced the small space outside the three exam rooms, eager to expend his restless energy, eager to hear Naomi’s version of events. He rubbed the back of his neck, grateful that tonight he had been in the right place at the right time. Christina had nearly been run over. His childhood self might have thanked God for the act of divine intervention, but his tough upbringing didn’t give him many opportunities to thank anyone, let alone God.

The floorboards creaked behind the closed door and Dylan watched the door handle turn. Christina appeared, directing Naomi to the bathroom. When Dylan started to ask Christina what was going on, she shook her head. A few minutes later, Naomi emerged, holding wet garments and looking like any other teen fresh out of the shower, with wet hair and comfy clothes.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Christina opened her mouth to say something when the front door crashed open. “Hello?” a female’s voice hollered down the hall. “Hello, I’m looking for Naomi Mullet. Is Naomi here?” The young woman sounded strained as she drew closer.

Recognition dawned on Naomi’s face, with a hint of relief. “Cheryl.” Naomi moved toward her friend’s voice and stumbled over a lump in the carpet. Dylan grabbed her elbow to steady her.

Christina pushed a chair over. “Sit here. I’ll bring Cheryl back.”

Naomi nodded, relief and exhaustion playing on her pretty face.

Cheryl charged into the back of the clinic dressed in blue jeans and a university sweatshirt. Her red hair was pulled into a long ponytail, her freckles prominent on her pale skin. Relief lit her heavily made-up eyes. “There you are! I was so worried.” She gave her Amish friend’s sweatpants and sweatshirt a once over. “What happened to your clothes?”

Christina watched the young woman intently. “Were you at the party with Naomi?” To Christina’s credit, there was no hint of blame or accusation in her voice. During his law enforcement career, Dylan noticed adults tended to blame teens first, ask questions second.

“Yes.” Cheryl’s lips quivered. “I drove her to the party. Naomi didn’t plan on staying.” A smile touched the corners of her glossed lips. “Usually when Naomi used to go to parties with me she tried to fit in.”

“You mean, she didn’t wear her Amish clothes?” Dylan asked, slipping into FBI interrogation mode.

“No, she didn’t. She’d dress casual. Like me. I’m not Amish.” Cheryl giggled nervously. “Lots of Amish kids break the rules. They’re trying to figure things out.”

“You’ve heard of Rumspringa?” Naomi spoke up. “I lost my way for a little while. I did things—” her voice cracked “—I’m not proud of. But I’m determined to live the Amish Way.”

“Then why go to the party?” Christina asked, studying the young Amish woman with her intense brown eyes.

“I heard Lloyd Burkholder was supposed to be there. I needed to talk to him.” Naomi groaned. “Please tell me he didn’t show up.”

Cheryl shrugged. “I don’t know. I was talking to some friends outside the barn. By the time I went in, I couldn’t find you. Someone told me you didn’t feel well and Ben Reist was taking you to the clinic.”

“Ben?” Naomi’s eyebrows drew together. “I sort of remember. Maybe not...” She bit her lower lip. “Does he have short blond hair?” She touched her own head for emphasis.

Excitement drummed in Dylan’s veins. They had a possible name for the driver who nearly ran Christina over.

“What kind of kid is Ben Reist?” Dylan asked, his tone harsher than he intended. Naomi looked like a scared rabbit and he didn’t want her to dart.

Cheryl laughed, a sound void of humor. “Good kid. I was surprised he was at the party. Not really the partying kind.”

“Do you think he meant to hurt me?” All that Naomi’s question didn’t ask tore at Dylan.

“No way. Ben’s a good guy. Someone said he could tell you seemed out of it and he wanted to get you out of there.” Cheryl’s eyes grew wide. “As soon as I heard, I jumped into the car. I figured you had too much to drink. The party was getting out of control anyway. All the kids were bailing. They were kinda freaked that the sheriff would show up once some underage drunk Amish girl was dropped at the healthcare clinic.”

“I believe she may have drugs in her system,” Christina said, matter-of-factly.

“Drugs?” Cheryl’s voice cracked.

“I didn’t take drugs.” Naomi said without much conviction. “I only had a beer. And I don’t remember finishing it. Dr. Christina thinks someone could have put something in my drink.”

Dylan watched Naomi closely for signs she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Does that seem about right to you, Naomi?” Christina asked.

“It makes sense.” Naomi’s eyes got a faraway look. She glanced at the clock. “I wasn’t there that long and then everything went fuzzy.”

A hint of relief settled into the soft lines around Christina’s eyes. They both must have been thinking the same thing. The time frame didn’t likely allow for a sexual assault. This Ben Reist kid had ushered Naomi out of there before whoever drugged her drink had had a chance to act.

“If Ben is such a nice guy, why didn’t he stick around to make sure Naomi was okay?” Dylan ran through the events in his mind, including the fact that Christina had nearly been run over.

Cheryl shrugged. “Probably didn’t want to get into trouble. Kids don’t always think.” She said it in a way that made him wonder how old she was. “I hear he’s got a scholarship to some big university starting in the fall. I imagine he didn’t want to jeopardize that. Rumor has it he was in trouble with the police earlier this year. He can’t get in trouble again.”

Dylan shook his head, frustrated at the dumb decisions kids sometimes made.

Christina gathered Naomi’s wet clothes. “I’m going to run these through the wash.”

Dylan pulled her aside. “Is that...?” He wanted to ask if that was a good idea. That the clothes might serve as evidence, but he could tell by the look on Christina’s face that she had already waged and lost that battle with the young Amish girl. Even in the case of a possible sexual assault, in New York State the victim had the right to refuse evidence collection. And if Cheryl was to be believed, Ben had brought Naomi straight from the party to the clinic, minimizing the opportunity for such an assault.

His lips thinned and he gave Christina a quick nod.

Christina grabbed Dylan’s arm and pulled him down the hall toward the laundry. She leaned in close and whispered, “I fear sending this sweet girl home in a dirty dress or sweatpants will create far more questions than she’s willing to answer. I think we need to get her cleaned up and see her safely home.”

Dylan nodded, sensing Christina was searching for his agreement.

Christina stepped away from Dylan and they returned to where the young women were standing. “The laundry’s in the back. We’ll wash your dress before you go home.”

An unmistakable look of relief swept across the young Amish woman’s face. “Denki. My mem and dat would ask a lot of questions if I showed up in a wet, dirty dress.”

Point made.

Christina gave the girl a quick nod and disappeared toward the back of the clinic. He heard the unmistakable crank of a noisy knob on a washer and the gush of water filling the tub.

Cheryl put her hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Going to that party was a dumb idea.”

Naomi frowned. “I thought I could patch things up with Lloyd.”

Dylan wasn’t interested in Naomi’s love life, but he wondered what this Ben knew about Naomi getting drugged. “Do you know where this Reist boy lives? I’ll call the sheriff and have them run by his house. Get a statement.”

Naomi looked up with worried eyes. “I’ll be ruined if the police are involved. My parents will find out. They won’t understand.” She pulled the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt down over her hands. “I should have never gone to that party. My mem and dat would be disappointed.”

Dylan understood all about disappointing a parent. His demanding father wasn’t exactly reasonable. And his mother died when he was barely eight. She had been the calming force. The reasonable one.

“Here’s the thing...” Christina reemerged from the laundry room, as if she had been giving something considerable thought. “Dylan can help without getting the police involved. Give us the address and we’ll check it out.”

Naomi shook her head frantically. “I don’t remember.”

“Cheryl knows, then,” Christina said, obviously not taking no for an answer.

Dylan cleared his throat. “You were fortunate nothing more happened.” He hoped they weren’t making a leap in their assumptions. “We need to find out who may have drugged you.”

Naomi’s hand flew to her midsection. She looked like she was going to be sick. “I can’t get involved.” She balled up the cuff of her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. “I don’t know the address or anything.”

“I don’t know the exact address, either, but I know how to find the house. I’d have to show you. There was a sign in front,” Cheryl said.

“I want to forget this night. Please.” Naomi bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. “I want to forget it ever happened.”

Christina pressed the palms of her hands together. “You can’t go home until your clothes are cleaned, right?” She opened her eyes wide, pleading. “We’ll take a drive in Dylan’s truck. You can show us the location. We won’t stop. We won’t get out of the car. No one will ever know it was you. Okay?”

“Why?” Naomi said, the defeat in her tone evident. “It won’t change anything.”

Dylan was about to say something when he noticed the rigid set of Christina’s body. Anger and maybe something akin to regret flashed in the depths of her eyes. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but it’s important that you seek justice.” Christina’s voice cracked over the last word and she shook her head briefly, as if trying to snap out of it. “Another young college girl was drugged recently at a party. We need to put a stop to this.”

Dread knotted Dylan’s gut. Christina spoke as if this were personal. Was it? Had something happened to her? Shame washed over him. He had returned to Apple Creek with his own bags packed to their bursting seams with regret, guilt and anger. Never once did he consider that Christina—the physician with wealthy parents, the woman who had everything, the woman who followed her dreams—had had her own share of troubles.

“The Amish ways are not like yours,” Naomi said flatly. “We handle things among our own.”

Christina blinked her eyes slowly, as if trying to tame her frustration. “I consider you a friend, Naomi. We’ve chatted a bit each time when you’ve come in to work, right? I know you’re happy in the Amish community.”

“Yah.”

“This person may try to spike other girls’ drinks. He may have already done it.”

“Are you serious?” Cheryl asked in disbelief, her long ponytail swinging as her hooded eyes darted from Christina to Dylan and back to Christina.

“Yes, I’m serious.” Christina threaded her fingers and held her hands in front of her, pleading with Naomi. “I want you to show us, but I won’t force you.”

Naomi rubbed her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve, then pulled it away, revealing watery eyes and a tear tracking down her cheek.

“Yah,” Naomi whispered, her shoulders easing down from her ears. “We’ll show you. But please don’t tell anyone.”

* * *

Cheryl was the far more chatty of the two as she gave Dylan directions to the location of the party. She seemed to enjoy the spotlight. Something about it rubbed Dylan the wrong way, or maybe her manner seemed so forward in contrast to Naomi’s quiet nature.

“How did you two meet?” Dylan finally asked.

“Naomi cleans homes in town.” Dylan wished Cheryl would let Naomi speak for herself.

“The extra money helps my family,” Naomi said, her voice low.

“You were at the Webbs’ house—right?—and heard about his party.” Cheryl didn’t wait for Naomi to answer. “Aaron Webb had a big party and invited you. I was floored when I found out you were Amish.” She scooted up on the edge of the backseat so her voice got louder. “Naomi was dressed normally, like in jeans and T-shirt.” Then as if realizing her backhanded slam, Cheryl added, “I mean, you weren’t dressed Amish. Anyway, we started seeing each other around at different parties and stuff and became friends. Like what, six months ago?”

“Yah.” Naomi sounded resigned. “Cleaning all those homes, I started to think I’d rather live in the outside world. But I was wrong.”

“Well, thanks.” Cheryl laughed, obviously not offended.

“You know what I mean,” Naomi said. “I’m more suited to the Amish Way. I went to the party tonight dressed the way I was raised because I was hoping to talk to a friend. I wasn’t looking to drink and I certainly never expected to have someone put something in my drink.” Her voice grew softer and Dylan looked in the rearview mirror to see Naomi staring out the window. “I should have never had that beer.”

Christina shifted in her seat to face Naomi. Christina’s hair had begun to dry in ringlets around her face. “None of this is your fault.”

“Turn right at the stop sign,” Cheryl interjected.

In the rearview mirror, Dylan noticed Naomi biting her bottom lip. Something about this entire story didn’t add up, but it wasn’t his job to figure it out. He wasn’t FBI. Not while he was on leave. He was a college professor. He was only here because he cared for Christina and for the well-being of this young woman.

Dylan stopped at the corner and was surprised to see a young Amish man in a wagon entering the intersection. It was after ten in the evening. The rain had stopped and a bright moon illuminated the countryside.

In the back, Naomi gasped and slouched in the seat.

“It’s Lloyd,” Cheryl whispered, a hint of awe in her voice. Then to him and Christina, “Lloyd Burkholder is the boy Naomi hoped to see at the party.”

Naomi covered her face with the palm of her hand. It was unlikely the young man would have recognized anyone inside the dark cab of the truck, but she obviously didn’t want to take any chances. “He’ll never take me back if he thinks I haven’t forsaken my former ways. Do you think he knows what happened?”

“You know how people talk,” her friend said. “You’ll have to explain what happened. He’ll take you back. I know it.”

“How can I explain when I don’t even know?” The young woman sounded on the verge of tears.

“I’ll help you any way I can,” Christina said. “Maybe you should reconsider calling the sheriff.”

“Neh.”

The horse and wagon proceeded through the intersection and Lloyd tipped his broad-brimmed hat in their direction, not an unusual gesture in the friendly Amish community.

Dylan lifted a hand in greeting, then turned right as instructed. He knew they were almost near their location when Naomi slid farther down in her seat; any farther and she’d be curled up in a ball on the floor. “The barn is behind the house with the sign on the front lawn.”

Dylan scanned the landscape and noticed a gold Sold sticker splashed across an Apple Creek Realty sign staked in the front lawn. The house and adjacent barn were dark.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s moved in yet,” Christina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do either of you know who was hosting the party?”

“Neh,” Naomi said.

“A bunch of kids probably heard it was an empty house. Prime party spot,” Cheryl said. “I heard about the party in town.”

“I don’t see any cars or horses by the barn.” Dylan slowed to a near stop.

“Like I said...” Cheryl sounded like a girl who didn’t like to repeat herself. “Everyone scattered when Ben went tearing out of there with Naomi in the backseat.”

Dylan glanced over at Christina who seemed intent on studying the landscape. “Do you think anyone’s still out there?” she asked.

“Not likely. Don’t you remember bolting from a party when you were a kid? They’re probably long gone by now.”

Christina clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure what we should do now.” She glanced over her shoulder into the backseat. “Are you okay, Naomi?”

“I’m gut.”

“Please know you can talk to me anytime. Sometimes after the event...” Christina’s voice trailed off and she seemed to change course. “Know that I’m here.”

“Yah.” Naomi’s reply sounded less than convincing. “How did you know Lloyd was supposed to show up?” Naomi asked Cheryl.

“Just heard a bunch of people talking, that’s all.” A hint of defensiveness crept into Cheryl’s tone. “You were the one who really wanted to go.”

“It wonders me what I was thinking.” Naomi tugged on the bottom of the sweatshirt. “Lloyd, the boy in the wagon, was courting me. We rode home together after Sunday singings. I thought it was a matter of time before we started making plans for marriage. And then...” She sniffed. “I started to doubt things. I met Cheryl. I thought she had so many more choices in life. I thought maybe it would be fun to live Englisch.”

“Bubble burst.” Cheryl laughed and Dylan watched her make an explosion gesture with her widespread fingers.

Dylan drove past the property, scanning the entire area without detecting anything suspicious lurking among the shadows. But that only meant the kids were good at hiding. He went to the first cross street and turned around.

“When I realized Lloyd wasn’t there, I was upset and decided to have a beer.” Naomi’s voice got very soft. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Naomi. Don’t be hard on yourself.” Christina shifted in the seat next to him.

“I had the beer and then I felt dizzy. Tired. I still feel a little dizzy.”

Christina sighed. “The lab will be able to determine from your urine sample what they gave you.”

“I don’t see why it matters. I want to forget the whole thing.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Cheryl said. “Easier to move on. Lloyd will never know what happened. You guys might get back together yet.”

Dylan cut a sideways glance at Christina. She was clenching her jaw, obviously holding back. Staring out the windshield, she asked him in a softer voice, “You see anything suspicious?”

He shook his head. “It’s dark. Once they scatter, it might be near impossible to find the responsible party. Especially if Naomi’s memory is hazy. And if she doesn’t want to pursue this.”

“I don’t,” Naomi spit out, probably the most forceful thing she had said since they got in the car. “What Amish man will want me if he thinks I’ve been...” She let her words trail off. “Nothing really bad happened to me. Someone put something in my drink. I’m fine now. But I don’t want people to talk about me. Make up stories about things that never happened.”

Christina turned to face Naomi as best she could. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I went to the party. I drank the beer.”

“That doesn’t give anyone the right to take advantage of you.”

“Nothing happened,” Cheryl repeated, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Everyone said Ben noticed you acting strangely so he got you out of there. Ben’s a good guy.”

Naomi sniffed but didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go back to the clinic. See about Naomi’s dress. Once it’s dry, she can change, then I’ll drive her home,” Christina said with her well-honed bedside manner.

“What will I tell my parents?” a panicked Naomi asked, as if she had only now thought of the fact she’d have to go home eventually. “They’ll wonder where I’ve been. I hadn’t planned on staying out this late.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Christina said. “If it makes it easier for you, I’ll explain that you were with me. They know you clean my office. We’ll omit the details so you don’t have to lie.” Christina paused. “If you think that will help.”

“Yah, denki.”

When they reached the clinic, Dylan climbed out of the car and met Christina, Cheryl and Naomi at the door.

“Well, I better go,” Cheryl said. “I don’t imagine Naomi’s parents will want me dropping her off.”

Naomi smiled, a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for being a gut friend.”

“I try,” Cheryl said with more than a hint of self-deprecation. “Even though being English is rotten eggs and you’d rather be Amish.”

Naomi’s eyes widened. “It’s not that.”

Cheryl smiled and took a step backward toward her car. “I was teasing. Trying to lighten the mood.” Then Cheryl’s expression grew somber. “I feel bad that I didn’t warn you to never leave your drink unattended. They taught us that in high school health class.”

“Do you remember who gave you the beer? Was it already opened?” Dylan asked, mentally scolding himself for not asking the question earlier.

Naomi slanted her eyes away as if giving it considerable thought. “I don’t remember.”

Cristina unlocked the door to the clinic. “I’ll go check on her clothes.”

They made small talk while they waited for Naomi’s clothes to dry. Finally, once they were done, Christina handed them to Naomi who gave her a weary smile.

“Go change and we’ll take you home.”

Naomi disappeared into the exam room and Dylan turned to Christina. “Chasing down the bad guy goes above and beyond the duties of the town doctor.”

Christina’s eyes held a clarity he had never noticed before. “If I don’t help her, who will? She’ll never go to the police.” Turning her back to him, she straightened a stack of papers on the counter behind her. “It will eat at her forever.”

Dylan resisted the urge to touch Christina’s arm, to comfort her. He could tell by the rigid set of her shoulders that his attempts would only be rebuffed. He wanted to ask her so many questions, but right now, one question lingered foremost on his mind. “What next?”

She turned around. “Take Naomi home.”

“That’s fine. But you can’t go snooping around on your own. It’s not safe. Do you think, even if they’re kids, that they’ll take kindly to you turning them in for using drugs?”

Christina jerked her head back. A shadow lurked in the depths of her eyes. “Snooping around? Don’t make it sound like I’m some cartoon sleuth.”

Dylan held up his palms, realizing his protective—his controlling—nature had offended her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, softening his tone.

“I know. And I appreciate that.” She tilted her head. “What brought you out here tonight anyway?”

“I thought you might have changed your mind about that ride, with the rain and all.”

“I’m fortunate you were there. Thank you.” The corners of her mouth tipped up, softening the concern in her eyes. “But please don’t think I’m helpless. I can take care of myself.”

“We don’t know if this is related to the other assault where the girl was drugged.” He widened his eyes, trying to emphasize the seriousness of this situation, trying to dissuade Christina from asking too many questions on her own. “We’re talking about a real sociopath.” He paused a minute. “Who does that? Who drugs women at parties?” The criminal mind had always fascinated him, especially the moment a person took their first steps toward a life of crime. How did a person go from hanging out, drinking with friends, to drugging drinks? Was it premeditated? Random? Or was Naomi targeted?

Dylan missed working a case for the FBI. Teaching law and ethics didn’t give him the same adrenaline rush.

“Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them.

Christina planted her fists on her hips. “I’ve run this clinic for years. I’ve dealt with everything from runny noses to spaced-out patients trying to get me to write them a script for painkillers so they could get their next high.” Her eyes flashed anger. “I know how to handle myself. I know how to handle people. I know how to dial 9-1-1. If someone thinks he can drug girls at parties, he needs to be stopped.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I have every right to ask questions. And I’m careful. I know it can be a dangerous situation.”

Dylan dared to step forward and touch her chin with a hooked index finger. He waited for her to look up at him. When she did, he said emphatically, “Not. Your. Job.”

Christina jerked away. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “No, I suppose it’s my job to patch up the women after they’re attacked.”

* * *

Christina woke up in the middle of the night with a blinding headache. Fortunately it had dulled to a quiet roar by morning. She was grateful for that. Lying awake most of the night rehashing the events surrounding Naomi had contributed to her blah feelings. But as much as she’d like to, her work ethic wouldn’t allow her to stay in bed all day. Before Georgia, she could never call in late. Even now, she didn’t like to take advantage. But today she decided she had to. Fortunately, Georgia had already been scheduled at the clinic this morning and insisted she had everything covered.

By the time Christina climbed behind the wheel of her sedan and pulled out onto the main road, the midmorning sun was like needles to her eyes. She dropped the car’s sun visor and grabbed her sunglasses. Ahhh...

As Christina drove to the clinic, almost on autopilot, she rehashed, yet again, the events of last night. After Christina and Dylan had dropped Naomi at home, Christina had called her brother, a sheriff’s deputy. She hadn’t wanted to betray Naomi, so Christina left her name out of the conversation, but she needed to let Nick know that someone had potentially drugged a young Amish woman at a party. Law enforcement often watched trends. Maybe someone would be arrested for a similar incident.

Christina purposely omitted the part about almost getting run over in the parking lot. Her overprotective brother would have lost all perspective then. However, Christina had hoped that when her brother tracked down Ben Reist, he would shed new light on what had transpired last night. And he’d probably reveal Naomi’s name, but in good conscience, Christina couldn’t let the perpetrator go unchecked. Unfortunately, Nick had called her late last night to say that Ben had not come home.

Christina wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Maybe Ben wasn’t such a good guy after all.

When Christina reached the stop sign at the same intersection they had come upon last night, she found herself turning toward the barn where Naomi had most likely been drugged. She hoped that maybe she would see something in the daylight that she had missed in the dark. The thought of letting the person who drugged Naomi get away with it galled her.

You let someone get away with it. The familiar, mocking voice threaded its way through her brain, not helping her headache. Not one bit.

This is not about me, her rational voice countered. This is about Naomi.

Determined not to let her doubts pull her off course, Naomi drove toward the barn then wondered if she had gotten turned around. She wasn’t exactly the queen of directions. A car with an attached trailer sat in the driveway. It wasn’t until Christina drove past that she saw the unmistakable Sold sign and the barn behind it.

Her pulse raced in her ears and her mouth went dry.

Ignoring all the alarm bells in her head, Christina slowed to a near crawl. The front door was propped open, as if movers were bringing in boxes. Her heart raced as she heard Dylan’s stern warning not to do any investigating on her own. Then anger seeped in to replace her anxiousness. What right did he have to tell her what to do?

What harm could it do to knock on the door and welcome new neighbors to the small town? People still did that right? She had never done it, but people did. Indecision had her shifting her foot from the brake to the accelerator.

Go to work.

Go. Go. Go.

No. No. No.

Before she had a chance to overthink it, she glanced in the side mirror, the rearview mirror and over her shoulder, then made a sharp U-turn. She slowed and turned into the driveway and parked next to the trailer and climbed out.

As she approached the house, she promised herself she wouldn’t go inside, instead staying out in the bright sunlight. What could happen out here? She knew better, but she couldn’t stop herself. Naomi’s sweet face flashed in her mind. She had to do this for Naomi.

Christina hadn’t yet figured out exactly what she’d say when a frail woman appeared in the doorway, her head wrapped in colorful fabric. The woman came up short, surprise evident on her pale face. She hadn’t been expecting anyone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Christina smiled, suddenly feeling foolish.

The woman’s skin seemed translucent. Dark shadows marred the skin under her eyes. The vibrancy of her blue eyes wasn’t diminished by the lack of lashes or brows. The pretty scarf hid what was no doubt a bald head. A hesitant smile graced the woman’s thin lips. “May I help you?”

Christina blinked rapidly. Not planning ahead hadn’t been a good idea. It was so unlike her. She had always planned ahead. College. Med School. Clinic in Apple Creek.

Check. Check. Check.

Yet here she was, gesturing awkwardly toward her car, partially hidden by the trailer. “I was driving by the house and noticed someone was moving in. I thought I’d stop by and welcome you to Apple Creek.” She really wished she had thought to stop by the diner to pick up one of Flo’s pies or something. Well, truth be told, she hadn’t expected to see cars in the driveway or to stop when she had.

“Thank you.” The woman’s reply came out more like a question.

“My name’s Christina Jennings. I’m a physician at the healthcare clinic in town.”

The woman nodded slowly, as if she was still trying to figure out what this woman was doing in her front yard. “Any relation to Nick Jennings?”

“Yes.” Christina smiled. “He’s my brother.”

“Small town, right? I knew him from way back when. Actually my husband knew him. My name’s Linda, by the way.”

Before Christina had a chance to ask her more questions, Linda descended the steps and crossed over to the trailer. The back doors were yawning open. The woman reached in and slid a box toward the edge of the trailer and stopped. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to chat. I have a lot of work to do.”

Christina glanced toward the house, wondering if this woman was alone. “Can I help?”

The woman blinked slowly. “No, thank you.” She leaned her hip on the back of the trailer, as if the short walk had drained her. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m tired and there’s so much to do. My son and his father are supposed to help me, but apparently there’s some work to be done on the mechanicals in the basement.” She lifted a thin shoulder. “Figures the first thing we realized this morning was there was no hot water.” She frowned. “We had some work done on the house for the past few months. Then we moved a lot of the big stuff in last week, but we had cleaning and the rest of the packing to finish before we could completely move in. It’s been a long road, but we’re almost there...” She drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. “And I’m tired.” She shook her head and gave a weary smile. “Wow, didn’t mean to unload on a complete stranger.”

Compassion warmed Christina’s heart. “Moving is a lot of work. I moved not long ago myself.” She remembered the cleaning and the sorting and the lifting, and she had been healthy. Christina couldn’t imagine the strain on top of a serious illness.

“Had you moved away from Apple Creek?”

“Oh, no, I just recently relocated a little farther out into the country. I like the space.” Christina didn’t mention that she grew up in the large house on the escarpment. Her parents’ sprawling estate was a landmark of sorts in town, an oddity. However, depending on how well Linda knew her brother, she might already know all that. “How about you? What brings you to Apple Creek?”

A shaky hand went to the woman’s head covering. “My son, Matty, and I lived only ten minutes away. We were in a rental. His father—” there was something about the way she said “his father” and not “my husband” that was very telling, or maybe Christina was reading too much into it “—recently got a job in Apple Creek.” She held out her palm. “So here we are. Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”

“I hope you enjoy your new home.” Christina shrugged off a vague sense that she used to know this woman.

Linda looked around, as if tuning into her surroundings for the first time. “All this space...this far out in the country. It’ll take some getting used to.” Her words had a wistful tone. “It seems so remote.”

Christina found her opening. “Well, there’s another reason I stopped by.”

“Oh?” Worry lines creased Linda’s eyes.

“Was anyone in your barn last night?”

“No.” Her answer seemed too abrupt. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s just...well...” Christina stammered. She never stammered. Her comment to Dylan last night that she wasn’t some cartoon-character sleuth was about to come back to haunt her. That’s exactly how she was acting. Unprepared. Foolish. Babbling. “I was driving by here and I thought I saw some activity by the barn.”

Linda frowned. “I’m not aware of anything, but I didn’t stay here. We arrived this morning.”

“Did your husband or son stay here?”

She hesitated for a moment and the color heightened in her cheeks. “No, we were too busy packing for the big move.” Linda stifled a yawn. “The move is wearing me out. I really need to get back to work.” Her tone reflected her frustration and embarrassment heated Christina’s cheeks. She was usually socially aware, but she didn’t want to leave so easily. She wanted to find out more about the barn party held here last night.

Linda pulled the box from the edge of the truck and its weight seemed to pull on her arms. “I better take this in. Nice meeting you.”

Christina wrapped her arms around the edge of the box, taking the brunt of the weight. “Please let me do that.”

“Thank you.” She released her grip on the box. “I need to learn how to accept help. I’m not as strong as I once was.”

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps God had placed Christina here for this one small kindness today, to help her get out of her own head and her own problems.

Linda hurried ahead of Christina, leading the way. Christina was grateful the box wasn’t that heavy. Once they stepped into the foyer, Linda pointed to another box. “Please, put it next to that one.” The smells of fresh paint and new carpeting permeated the air.

Christina pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. She placed the box on top of another one. She didn’t envy the work ahead of this woman. “If you need anything, please feel free to contact me. I’m only a few minutes away in town. At the healthcare clinic, as I mentioned before.”

Linda waved her hand in dismissal, then her eyes brightened. “Thank you.” She lifted her fingers to the scarf wrapped around her head.

“If you need help with any of this...” Christina held her hand out to the boxes scattered around the foyer.

Linda shook her head. “There’s two able-bodied men who live here. They can get after these boxes.”

Christina laughed. “Well, I do run the clinic. So, if you need anything in that regard...”

“I’m getting the best possible treatment at Roswell Park in Buffalo. It’s a bit of a drive...but...”

“Oh, yes, Roswell is well respected. I guess I meant if you needed anything and didn’t want to drive all the way into Buffalo.” Christina was careful about how she worded things.

Deep voices could be heard floating up through the vents from the basement. Christina glanced around the cozy house that was still in need of a little TLC, but would surely make a comfortable home. She brushed at the dust on her pants. “Nice to meet you, Linda. Can I bring in a few more boxes before I go?”

Linda shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no... I’ve already imposed too much. Thank you for stopping by. I appreciate your introducing yourself to me.” The poor woman had probably thought a local gossip had alerted the town doctor that a woman with cancer had moved in, when that was not the case at all.

However, would the truth be any better? That Christina had stopped by to see if the occupants had held an underage drinking party on their property? But it seemed—like Cheryl had said—some teenagers had taken advantage of an empty house to party. More than likely, they wouldn’t be back now that the house was occupied.

“If you see anyone out back, perhaps hanging around your barn, can you call me?”

“Um...sure.” Linda took the business card with Christina’s contact information on it and turned it over in her hands. An unease rolled off Linda’s thin frame. “Do you think that’s something I need to be worried about?”

“It was probably teenagers.” Christina feared she had already said too much. She cleared her throat and rubbed her hands together. “I should go. Please call if you see anything...or if you need anything.”

“Who are you talking to?” A gruff male voice sounded from the back of the house, sending goose bumps racing across Christina’s skin.

Linda held out her arm and began to usher Christina toward the door. “Thanks again, Christina. I’ll definitely contact you if I need anything.”

Christina stepped outside, the door still propped open.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your visitor?” The man’s voice got closer. Christina spun around and froze in her tracks.

He had more lines at the corners of his eyes and less hair on his head, but he had the same darkness in his eyes and smug look on his thin lips.

Roger Everett. Her brother Nick’s good friend. A captain in the army. That’s how Linda knew her brother. Christina thought she had looked familiar, but her illness had made her gaunt.

Roger Everett. The name of the man she’d never forget.

The man who had attacked her several years ago.

The man she had been too afraid to accuse.

And now he was here, back in Apple Creek.

THREE

“Christina? Christina Jennings? Is that you?” Roger Everett’s lips curved into a smarmy grin—could only she see that?—yet his tone was that of a long-lost friend. Christina felt all the blood drain from her face and she sent up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t pass out right there.

Roger lifted his arms as if to embrace her and Christina held up her hands to block him. “Roger Everett.” The two words spilled out of her mouth. The smile plastered on her face—a smile for his wife’s benefit—hid the icy terror pumping through her veins.

“You remember Nick’s sister?” Linda asked, curiosity in her large eyes. “I don’t recall having met her before. When did you meet her?”

“Of course I met little Christina Jennings. Oh, wait, she’s Dr. Christina Jennings now.”

Linda squinted at her. “I don’t...”

“I’m not sure we ever met. Maybe only in passing,” Christina stammered.

“How is Nick?” Roger asked, carrying on this cheery charade.

“Good.” Christina’s heart was nearly rioting out of her chest, but she had to keep her cool. She’d had a lot of practice playing it cool under fire. She was a physician, after all. “You haven’t seen him lately?”

“Ah, ya know. Now and again. Everyone’s so busy, especially now that he has a little one. How is the baby?”

“Fine.” Christina didn’t want to give this man any more information about her family than necessary. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I saw the trailer...” Christina stared at him as the walls in the foyer swayed.

Since Christina had refused to accuse Roger of wrongdoing soon after he attacked her, she wasn’t about to start now. His wife was ill. Christina didn’t want to cause her any more stress. “I was...on my way out.” She stepped onto the porch and backed down the steps, holding the railing. She spun around and walked briskly toward her car.

“What brought you out here?” Roger called after her.

“I didn’t know who bought this house. I wanted to welcome the new family to the neighborhood.” She aimed her key fob at the car and the locks chirped. She struggled to stay composed as a familiar fear crawled up her spine and stiffened her back.

“Christina mentioned someone was using our barn for an underage party last night,” Linda said.

Anticipation made Christina’s skin tingle. A few feet from her car, she stopped and turned around. “I’m not sure of the exact location,” she backtracked, suddenly feeling like she had betrayed Naomi. The idea that Naomi was drugged on the property of the same man who had attacked Christina swelled like a tsunami in her brain, ready to sweep her under. The coincidence was too great.

“Why would you think that?” Roger asked, a hint of accusation in his tone.

“I may be mistaken.” Christina hated the indecisiveness in her tone. Leave. Just leave.

“Let’s be sure now. Let’s take a look. If there was a party, they probably left behind garbage. Beer cans, stuff like that, right?” Roger stepped off the porch and approached her. “Since you took the time to stop, it’d be a shame if we didn’t investigate. Or maybe we should call your brother, the deputy.” Roger had a way of speaking that was overtly condescending.

“I really should go. I’m running late.” Christina’s stomach sloshed with dread. She was back in college, trying to escape Roger’s grabby hands.

“No, no. I insist. I don’t want anyone using my property for parties.” He shook his head as if it were truly a great hardship. “Can you imagine the liability if someone got hurt on my property? Or after they left because they had been drinking? I don’t know if the bank has cashed the check on the first premium on my homeowner’s insurance.” Roger held out his hand, encouraging Christina to walk in front of him. The only reason Christina moved was because she didn’t want him to touch her.

Not again.

Christina glanced over her shoulder at Linda, willing her to walk with them. The last thing she wanted to do was go to the back of the property into a darkened barn with a man who had forced himself on her when she was in college and then accused her of not knowing what she really wanted.

Never mind that he had a son and a wife at home. Then. And now. Strange that Christina had never met Linda face-to-face until now. Roger probably had preferred it that way. Easier to lure unsuspecting women.

Nausea roiled in her stomach.

Once they were halfway across the yard and it was clear that Linda wasn’t going to follow them, Christina stopped, never turning her back to Roger. She didn’t trust him.

She should never have trusted him.

And she was done being polite. Especially when it came to her safety.

She pointed her finger at him. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face in Apple Creek.”

Roger pressed his hand to his chest in a “who-me?” gesture and his expression took on an offended air. “Nerve?” He leaned close and she did her best not to show her fear. “Your guilt has gotten the best of you. You wanted me, but then your conscience couldn’t deal with the fact I had a wife and child.” His eyes twinkled with wicked delight. “I’m separated now.” He reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek and she backed away.

“Separated from Linda?”

“Yes. Does that make you feel better?”

“Why should it make me feel better? You attacked me.” Anger roared in her ears.

“You wanted it,” he bit out. “Don’t rewrite history.”

A steel rod of courage stiffened her back. “I was naive and didn’t report the incident. I’m no longer that same girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Roger spit out, his face suddenly flushed with rage.

“Someone barely escaped being assaulted on your property and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Once a creep, always a creep.”

His cheeks puffed and his breath grew ragged. He jabbed his finger in her direction and she struggled not to cower. “You watch out, little lady, or I’ll press charges of slander.”

Christina glared right back at him. “The truth is a valid defense.”

“You got a lot of nerve coming out here...” Spittle flew from his lips.

“I’m done.” She gave one last look at the abandoned barn, a row of hay bales with targets on them lined up on one side. She was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to investigate further. Not now. Not with Roger. She turned to go back to her car, a surge of adrenaline mingled with dread and anger.

Roger’s arm snaked out and grabbed her wrist, and terror pressed on her lungs. Instinctively she yanked her arm, but Roger tightened his grip.

“How do you think the fine residents of Apple Creek would feel if they knew their respected town doctor had tried to break up a marriage? I believe home wrecker is the term.”

Christina glared at him, then down at his fingers encircling her wrist. Anger made her bolder than she had a right to be. Roger was probably twice her size. “Let. Me. Go.”

Roger let go of her wrist and stared at her, daring her to move. “Who do you think the members of this town are going to believe? The war hero who’s returned home to take care of his ailing estranged wife despite their differences? The former all-star high school baseball player? The newest member of the town council? Or the town doctor who grew up in a life of privilege—entitlement—and never knew the meaning of the word no?”

“No one who knows me would characterize me like that.”

Roger hiked a shoulder. “Want to try them? And tell me, why didn’t you tell your brother about us?”

“There was no us.” She gritted out the words.

“Okay, why didn’t you tell him I supposedly attacked you?”

“You know why.” She wasn’t able to hide the black eye from her brother so she lied and said her roommate had accidentally elbowed her in the eye. Nick felt guilty that he hadn’t walked her home from the party that night. He’d never forgive himself if he knew it was his friend who had attacked her. His friend who would have done far more to her if she hadn’t fought so fiercely. If something hadn’t spooked Roger. She never did figure out what that was.

More importantly, Christina couldn’t risk Roger seeking retribution from Nick during a time of war. Roger was her brother’s superior in the army. If Christina’s accusations fell on deaf ears, she’d risk putting her brother’s life in jeopardy while they were serving overseas together. And Roger seemed exactly like the kind of person who might try to get even.

She couldn’t risk telling anyone.

A voice roared inside her. How is your silence any different from Naomi refusing to call the sheriff? It’s all a matter of self-preservation.

Self-preservation and protecting those she cared about. She was afraid of Roger, but she was more afraid of how her accusations back then would have affected those around her. Around her brother.

And a little voice in her head always prompted one nagging question: Had she asked for it? Had she been partially responsible for his assault on her? Christina had been enjoying the harmless, flirtatious banter with her brother’s good friend, until it ceased to be flirtatious or harmless.

She thanked God every day that she had been able to escape with only a black eye, and bruised ribs and thighs from his clawing at her.

Her injuries—the assault—could have been far worse.

“I suggest you don’t cause trouble for me now,” Roger said, his eyes sparking with anger.

Squaring her shoulders, Christina took a step closer. “I may have kept my mouth shut back when you attacked me. I was young. Naive. But I plan to do whatever it takes to protect the young women in town.”

A line marred his forehead. “Let me get this straight. You think I’m attacking young women from town?” He jabbed his finger in the direction of his barn. “In my own barn?” He shook his head and leaned in closer; his coffee breath assaulted her nose. “You really are whacked.”

His words struck like a punch to the solar plexus and she struggled to fill her lungs with air. He had used similar words to intimidate her into silence years ago, calling her accusations ridiculous.

Roger gave her a curious stare. “I’m a respected member of the town council now. I took over the seat vacated when Old Man Siegfried kicked the bucket. I put some feelers out there when Linda asked me to come back home. She’s not doing well,” he added, with the first hint of humanity. “I need to be here for her and my son. We don’t need your harassment.”

She fisted her hands. Was he making a play for her sympathy? She wasn’t buying it.

“Why stir up trouble from so long ago? It’ll be my word against yours. A ruined reputation is tough to rebuild.”

“Stay away from me.” Her voice came out low and threatening.

“You stopped by my house,” Roger reminded her.

“My mistake.” She turned toward her car. She couldn’t bear to spend one more minute with this man.

“Keep your mouth shut, Christina. Linda doesn’t need your false accusations. Her health can’t take it.”

“That’s on you. Not me.” Christina kept walking and Roger followed close behind.

“Let me make this clear and in terms you’ll understand. If you stir up trouble, you’ll be sorry.”

“Is that a threat?” All her nerve endings hummed and she fought to hold it together. “You’re good at threats.”

“People love war heroes,” he said, his voice strangely even.

Christina lifted a shaky hand to her forehead. “I should never have stopped here.” She started jogging toward her car parked in the driveway.

“I thought you wanted to check the barn,” Roger hollered after her.

Christina didn’t answer, nor did she stop until she was locked inside her vehicle and had started up the engine. She was about to press her forehead to the steering wheel when a shadow crossed her lap. She glanced up to see a mini-me version of Roger Everett.

Christina opened the window. Before she had a chance to say anything, the young man—who had to be Roger’s son—said, “My mom and dad are trying to work things out.” He stared at her with a steely gaze.

“Okay...”

“If you’re one of his girlfriends, you better not come around here anymore.” His tone was flat, threatening.

“I’m not dating your father.” Her body involuntarily shuddered. She angled her head to look up at him and she had to shield her eyes from the sun. “How old are you?”

The boy squared his shoulders. “Seventeen.”

“Do you know about a party in the barn last night?”

The boy crossed his arms and shook his head. “How would I? We didn’t move in until this morning.”

“Okay,” she said, noncommittally. She didn’t want to call him out. Maybe he had innocently mentioned to some kids at school that he had a vacant house. It wouldn’t take a bunch of kids long to figure out it was a prime location for an unsupervised party.

“I better go.” She put the gear into reverse, then looked up at him. “I’m a physician in town. If your mom needs anything, here’s my card. I gave your mom one, too. Feel free to call if you have concerns. It can be hard to care for someone who’s sick.”

Half his mouth quirked into a wry grin. “My mom’s going to be fine.” Reluctantly, he took her business card and stared hard at it.

“I’ll keep her in my prayers,” Christina said softly, not really sure what else to say.

Something flashed across the young man’s face, as if he wanted to say something sarcastic, but instead he took a step back and flicked his hand in a farewell gesture, and she thought she heard him mutter, “Thanks.”

* * *

Dylan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited in the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant surrounded by cornfields. Ben Reist, the young man, who had unceremoniously dumped Naomi at the clinic door in a driving rain, lived nearby with his mother. Christina had called Dylan, her voice trembling and anxious, determined to find Ben Reist. Now.

Something was wrong.

To be on the safe side, he’d told Christina to meet him in a neutral location and they’d head to the boy’s house together. Dylan was grateful his summer classes had yet to start, affording him the opportunity to be there for Christina. However, he didn’t understand why she insisted on trying to track Ben down when her brother, the sheriff’s deputy couldn’t. Dylan had no authorization to investigate this case and Christina most definitely didn’t.

“Where are you?” he muttered to himself.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires had him turning to see Christina arriving in a ten-year-old sedan. She parked across from him and climbed out of the car. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and a concerned expression marred the corners of her mouth. An ache of nostalgia expanded in his chest.

He had been a fool to let her go.

Dylan pushed open his car door and climbed out. “What’s going on?”

Christina crossed her arms and glanced toward the street. Something flickered in the depths of her eyes, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What’s wrong?” he asked when she didn’t answer his first question.

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