AMISH TARGET

Rebecca Fisher’s life was turned upside down when her husband was accused of murder and died in prison. Now, more than a year later, someone is reminding the Amish widow that all hasn’t been forgiven. But Rebecca isn’t about to pay for the sins of someone else’s past. So when the threats escalate and her rebellious stepson starts keeping secrets, Rebecca turns to former army ranger Jake Burke for help. She knows the Englisher is an honorable man, but being around him rattles her traditional community. Before long, Rebecca senses Jake is the only person she can trust with her safety…and with her fragile heart.

“I don’t mean to cause you any grief,” Jake said, tilting his head. There was a kindness in his eyes she wasn’t used to seeing in a man.

She blinked at him. Flo was right. He was pleasing to the eyes. Inwardly, she shook the thought away. She had no business thinking in those terms.

“I’m not looking for your friendship.” She didn’t try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. “My coming to your office the other night was misguided. I was desperate. I thought you could help me understand what’s going on with my son.” Rebecca wrung her hands. “But I suppose that’s something I have to work out with Samuel.”

The professor put his hand on the railing near hers. For the briefest of moments, she thought he was going to cover her hand with his, warming it.

She ignored the disappointment that swelled inside her when he didn’t.

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 Threats

Alison Stone

www.millsandboon.co.uk

God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.

—Psalms 46:1

To my son Alex, as you embark on your senior year of high school. May you continue to be fearless and intelligent in your choices. You have the world at your feet, Buddy. I can’t wait to see what you decide to do in life. I’m so proud of you. Love you.

To my editor, Allison Lyons, who continues to believe in me. Thanks for your keen editorial input. My books are the best they can be because of you.

To my husband, Scott, and the rest of my kids, Scotty, Kelsey and Leah. Love you guys, always and forever.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

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

“I won’t be long.” Rebecca Fisher scooted forward on the vinyl seat in the van and raised her voice over the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of the worn wipers scraping against the windshield.

“I have another pickup.” The driver’s words were clipped, as if a return ride hadn’t been understood. He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and checked his wristwatch. “Meet you back here in thirty minutes?”

“Yah.” Gathering the folds of her skirt and her tote bag, Rebecca climbed out of the van, popped up her umbrella and slammed the van door closed. She cast one last glance at the driver, who seemed oblivious to her indecision. Not as chatty as some, the young driver was one of several employed in the heavily Amish community of Apple Creek, New York, to cart the Amish around when they didn’t want to be bothered with a horse and buggy.

Standing on the sidewalk under her black umbrella next to the brick building, Rebecca watched the red brake lights of the van as it slowed, then disappeared around the corner. She tugged on her black bonnet, trying to shut out the brisk wind and the whipping rain. It was late September, too early for snow, but the cold and rain were a hint of the winter to come in western New York.

Rebecca checked the address for Professor Jacob Burke on the slip of paper in her hand. Then she squinted at the name of the building carved into the stone above the nearest doorway. Her heart sank. It wasn’t the building she was looking for and all the buildings looked the same.

If Rebecca didn’t hurry, she might miss the professor. The college student she had talked to at the Apple Creek Diner where Rebecca worked as a waitress had assured her that Professor Burke had office hours on Monday and Wednesday from four until six-thirty.

Rebecca clutched the collar of her coat and turned down the first brick path leading between a row of buildings. Oh, so many buildings. A male college student strode toward her, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, his hood pulled up against the rain and his eyes straight ahead.

“Excuse me. Do you know where...?”

The young man continued past without as much as a sideways glance.

She squeezed the handle of the umbrella tighter and looked down at the piece of paper as it flapped in the wind, the writing smeared from the rain.

“Can I help you?” An older woman stopped and gestured with her umbrella toward the young man who hadn’t bothered to stop. “Don’t take it personally, dear. The young people today walk around with those thingies—” she pointed to the side of her head “—in their ears. They don’t hear anything except whatever it is they’re listening to on their phones.”

“Oh,” Rebecca said, feeling completely out of her element on the college campus. “I’m looking for the Stevenson Building. Room 214. Professor Jacob Burke’s office.”

“The anthropology building,” the woman said, as if suddenly everything made sense. It was no secret the professor of anthropology studied the local Amish. Perhaps the woman thought Rebecca was availing herself to his research, but that was the furthest thing from her mind.

Smiling, the woman spun around and pointed across a wide courtyard with her free hand. “You’re close. It’s right over there.”

“Thank you.” Rebecca tucked the piece of paper into the tote she had draped over her arm. Drawing in a deep breath, she pulled back her shoulders and strode across the courtyard to the arched doorway of the brick building. Her pulse whooshed in her ears in competition with the drops pelting her umbrella.

Rebecca pulled open the heavy wooden door and held it for a second with her foot. After wrestling to close her umbrella, she stepped into the marble entryway. The door slammed, echoing in the cavernous space, startling her. She adjusted her wind-whipped bonnet and smoothed what little hair was visible near the crown of her head.

Dragging her fingers along the cool metal railing, she climbed the stairs and walked down the empty hallway until she found room 214. Professor Burke’s office.

Slowing her pace, she fumbled with the hook and eye on her coat, feeling the heat gathering. Finally, her trembling fingers released the hook and she slipped off her coat and draped it over her arm. Through the narrow window on the office door, she noticed a young man sitting at the desk and talking on the phone.

Rebecca turned and looked down the hallway; a trail of water had dripped from her umbrella. If she lost her nerve now and left, she’d have to stand in the rain for close to thirty minutes waiting for the driver.

You’ve come this far.

When Rebecca finally turned the handle and stepped into the narrow entryway, the young man was watching her with a curious expression, something Rebecca would never get used to. Sometimes she wished she never had to leave the farm. She missed the quiet life she’d led before her deceased husband’s actions had drawn her into the limelight.

Now most every day she had to venture away from the solitude of farm life to work at the diner, where she often felt like a character in a play, expected to act out a role when the tourists stopped in for a meal. Some even had the nerve to talk really loud to her, as if she were deaf.

However, the end of summer had meant the departure of the bulk of the tourists and their curious gazes. They had been replaced primarily by less generous college students; vacationers tended to leave her an extra dollar or two at the diner after they had tasted her shoofly pie. Money she could ill afford to lose now that she was a single mother.

“Hello?” the dark haired young man said, his lilting voice making it more a question than a genuine greeting.

Rebecca worked her bottom lip. “I’m looking for Professor Burke.”

The boy at the desk, who couldn’t be much older than her Samuel, turned toward the open door a few feet away. “Is Professor Burke expecting you?”

Under her bonnet her scalp tingled. She had obviously made a misstep. She should have found a way to reach the professor before showing up unannounced.

“I...um...” She smoothed her hand across the coat draped over her arm. The umbrella bounced against her leg when she took a step backward.

“Hello, I’m Professor Burke.” A tall, clean-shaven man appeared in the doorway, an inquisitive smile in his warm brown eyes.

Rebecca took a confident step forward but kept her hands securely wrapped around the coat she was carrying, her tote and umbrella clasped underneath. “I’m Rebecca Fisher. I’m Samuel Fisher’s mem...” She let her voice trail off, hoping he’d acknowledge that he knew Samuel before she went on much longer.

Professor Burke’s eyebrows raised and his eyes darkened. “Yes, I know Samuel well. Is something wrong?”

Rebecca felt the young man’s eyes on them. “Perhaps we can talk in private?”

“Of course.” Professor Burke held out his arm, gesturing to his inner office. When she hesitated, the professor entered his office first and sat behind the large desk.

Rebecca followed him and sat at one of two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. She would have felt claustrophobic in the small space if it hadn’t been for the large windows overlooking the courtyard.

The young man appeared in the doorway. “I finished collating the test papers. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to blow this joint.” His gaze traveled the length of her. Rebecca dropped her umbrella, then she bent over to snap it up, happy for the distraction.

“Thanks, Tommy. Have a good night.”

“Night.”

The door to the main hallway clicked shut. Rebecca shifted in her seat, relieved to not have an audience. “I’m sorry to bother you this late, but I’m worried about my son. Actually, he was my husband’s son, but I claim him as my own.” She was telling this man information he already knew.

Professor Burke threaded his fingers and rested his elbows on the desk. She felt as if he was studying her like a farmer inspects a calf before making his bid at the auction.

“I’m very curious why you’ve come to me, Mrs. Fisher.”

“Because I have nowhere else to go.”

* * *

“Nowhere else to go?” Jake stood, then walked around to Mrs. Fisher’s side of the desk. When he sat next to the young Amish woman, she angled her knees away from him, creating as much distance between them as possible. He looked down and stifled a smile.

“I need to talk to you about Samuel.” Mrs. Fisher placed her tote and umbrella on the floor and folded her coat over them. She straightened her back and hiked her chin in a gesture that seemed forced. “I may come across as—” she seemed to be searching for the right word “—backwoods to you, but I know you spend time researching the Amish and you know a lot of the youngie. You knew Elmer King. And you know my son.”

Jake’s heartbeat slowed as he remembered Elmer, the outgoing young Amish boy who had died in a car wreck over the summer. The image on the front page of the small-town paper of Elmer King’s old red Chevy Camaro wrapped around a tree and his straw hat on the pavement said far more than a tidy quote the journalist had tried to elicit from the professor who studied the Amish. Jake was suspicious that some opportunist had placed the straw hat there for added effect.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Jake tried to shake the image, but his stomach pitched at his guilt for not having known how to help the boy. Elmer had been one of the youth he had gotten to know over the past three years as a professor at Genwego State. Jake felt strongly that his missteps had led to Elmer racing off in a rage that fateful night.

Dragging a hand across his hair, Jake let out a long sigh, buying time to formulate his thoughts. “Yes, I knew Elmer. What does this have to do with your son?”

“Samuel and Elmer were friends. My son is not the same young man he was before Elmer’s death.”

“Samuel’s had a rough go of it.”

Rebecca nodded slowly and wrung her hands in her lap, seemingly growing more agitated. When she didn’t seem as though she was going to speak, Jake asked, “How can I help you?”

She gave him a measured stare before dropping her gaze to her hands clutched in her lap. “Professor Burke, I’m worried about Samuel.”

Jake rested his elbow on the armrest. He waited for her to continue. As a researcher, he often went into the Amish community and performed a delicate balancing act between developing authentic friendships and fostering relationships in the name of research. It was unusual for an Amish person to stroll into his office, never mind a young Amish woman.

“You’ve become friends with Samuel and his gang, yah?” The Amish referred to the groups of somewhat like-minded young adults who hung around together as gangs. The term lacked the negative connotation that it held in the English world.

“Yes, I’ve gotten to know your son.”

“Is he...” Again, she seemed to be searching for the right word. “Is he okay?”

He studied her face. Myriad emotions played on her features.

“He seems to be okay. I know you both have experienced some backlash from the community after Willard was arrested.” Rebecca’s husband, now deceased, had been convicted for killing two of his Amish neighbors.

“Backlash.” Rebecca seemed to be trying on the word. “Yah, we have had issues from graffiti on the barn to smashed eggs on our windows. The sheriff never made any arrests.”

“Samuel told me it had stopped.” He studied the woman, estimating her to be in her late twenties, early thirties at the most.

“It had. Then more recently, it started up again. Someone took all four wheels off Samuel’s wagon...” Her voice trailed off. “I am grateful they took them off and didn’t just loosen them. I hate to think—”

“It sounds like a police matter,” Jake interrupted. “I’m not sure why you’re here... I’m a professor.”

Rebecca rubbed her flattened palms together. “It’s twofold, really. I called Sheriff Maxwell once... I’m friends with his wife. We grew up together.” She waved her hand, as if that part of the story was inconsequential. But any time someone left the Amish community, it scarred those that remained.

Rebecca drew in a deep breath and continued. “Samuel became very agitated when I called the sheriff. He holds himself partially responsible for his father’s arrest, even though we all know...well, we all know what his father did.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Sorry for your troubles. Sorry for your loss.”

“Me, too. This is not the life I imagined for me or for my children.”

“It took a lot of courage for Samuel to work with law enforcement to aid in his father’s arrest.”

Rebecca ran a shaky hand across her lips. “Maybe he wouldn’t be taking this all so hard if his father was simply in prison.” Her shoulders rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “When Willard was killed in prison, I think something inside Samuel broke. I don’t know how to reach him anymore.”

“I’m not sure how I can help, Mrs. Fisher.”

“Please, call me Rebecca. I no longer feel like Mrs. Fisher.”

“Okay...” He hesitated, waiting for her to continue.

“I’ve watched my son talk to you at the diner. He’s confided in you. I need...” She closed her eyes briefly. “...I need to know what you know about my son so I can reach him before I lose him for gut. Like the Kings lost their son, Elmer.”

Jake ran a hand across his chin. “What is it you’re worried about?” A niggling suspicion told him why she was here, but he didn’t dare say.

Rebecca’s gaze lingered on his. “I need to know if Samuel’s involved with drugs like his friend was.” Her voice was strained, as if it took every effort to get out the words.

“Samuel’s a young adult.” Jake measured his response, trying to distance himself from the pain on Rebecca’s face. Her son—her stepson, actually—was enjoying his running around years with the usual bending of Amish rules. If Jake broke the young man’s confidence, the young Amish men wouldn’t talk to him. On the surface, it would jeopardize his research at the college.

“Samuel needs to find his own way,” Jake said.

“He needs guidance. He has no father.”

Jake didn’t know if Samuel was into drugs, but if he was, Jake wanted to be there for him without the interference of his mother. He needed to foster Samuel’s trust.

Jake had learned that the hard way.

Rumors spread after Elmer’s tragic death. Apparently, Elmer’s father had kicked him out of the house after he had learned of his son’s drug use. Jake tapped his fingers on his thigh and tried to ignore the familiar ache of guilt eating away at him. Jake had encouraged—no forced—the young man to confide in his family believing they would provide the support system the young man needed to straighten up. Instead, his father threw his son out of the house. Elmer fell into a downward spiral. All because of Jake’s advice.

“Professor Burke,” Rebecca bit out when the silence stretched a little too long. “My son is at a vulnerable time in his life.” She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, then let it drop. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”

Jake thought long and hard on how he was going to phrase this. Finally, he said, “I don’t know what you want me to do. I thought the point of adult baptism was to allow the young adults in the community to make their own choices.”

“It is...” She paused. “It is. But this is far beyond that. Samuel is a different person since his friend Elmer died. He has become withdrawn. He won’t even let me in his room.”

“Samuel has suffered tremendous loss.” Jake leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Be there for him when he comes around.”

Nodding, Rebecca reached down and picked up her coat, tote bag and umbrella from the floor and balanced them on her lap, as if ready to spring out of his office. She glanced toward the door. “I hear a lot of things at the diner. About both college students and the Amish doing drugs.” She traced the handle of the umbrella. “I fear I’m going to lose him, too.”

“Have you asked Samuel if he’s into drugs?” Jake angled his head, trying to meet her eye. He found himself fascinated by her wide brown eyes and full lips, sweet and innocent without any hint of makeup.

“Yes.” She finally lifted her eyes, deep with worry. “He told me no, but I don’t know if I can trust him to be truthful.”

Jake settled back in his chair, weighing how much to say. “Drugs and alcohol are an issue in the Amish community, but I don’t know if Samuel is involved. You need to talk to your son and keep talking. It’s a rough time in a young Amish man’s life. He has a tough decision looming ahead of him. He needs your support.”

A look akin to disgust wrinkled her nose. “Are you lecturing me in the Amish ways?”

“I’m trying to...” What exactly was he trying to do? Avoid helping her for fear of alienating Samuel? For fear of giving her the wrong advice?

Rebecca held up her hand, stood and took a step toward the door, her frustration evident by her pinched mouth. “I don’t know why I thought you’d understand. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Did she suspect he was holding something back?

“Would you have been satisfied if I had told you your son’s a drug addict?”

Rebecca eyes flared wide, an emotion straddling fear and my-worst-nightmare-come-true flickered in their depths. “Is he?”

“I have no reason to suspect he is.”

“Can you find out and tell me? Maybe he’ll confide in you. I have lost much in my life—I can’t bear to lose Samuel, too. If he’s made a bad choice, I need to help him before it’s too late. But I want to do it without getting law enforcement involved. If he ended up in prison...” She shook her head. “I’m holding on dearly to all that I have left.”

“I don’t want to lose Samuel’s trust. I can only encourage you to keep trying to reach him.” Jake already knew the devastation of his meddling in Elmer’s life.

“Thanks for your time.” Rebecca’s words came out clipped. She spun around and stormed out of the office.

Jake sat for a moment, replaying the conversation in his head. A subtle thump started behind his eyes. He stood and returned to his chair behind the desk and dialed his assistant’s cell phone number. Tommy picked up on the first ring, his voice hushed. “What’s up?”

“How much do you know about Samuel Fisher? Is he big into the drug or alcohol scene?” His assistant had grown up in the Amish community and had left to earn his GED and eventually go to college. His background gave Tommy an “in” to the sometimes rowdy youngie scene and made him a valuable asset to Jake and his research.

A long pause stretched across the line. For a minute, Jake had thought he’d lost the connection. “Is that who that Amish lady was? Samuel’s mom?”

“Yes.”

“And his mem—” the word sounded foreign on Tommy’s lips, mocking almost “—thinks he’s into drugs and alcohol? Is that why she stopped by?”

“She’s worried about him.” Jake absentmindedly doodled an R on the piece of paper in front of him and traced over and over it. “She wants to know what I know about him.”

Tommy laughed. “Far as I know, Samuel’s a good kid. I’d vote him most likely to bend a knee before he’s twenty-one.”

“Yeah? You really think he’ll choose to be baptized into the Amish community?” Jake felt reassured. “Rebecca Fisher seems to think he might be in some kind of trouble.”

“Nah, not Samuel.” A rustling sounded over the line, like from a gust of wind as if he were still walking.

“Aren’t you home yet?”

Tommy laughed. “What? Are you my keeper? I had some errands to run.” Wind muffled his words again. “Let Mrs. Fisher know Samuel’s a good kid. He’s not into drugs or anything. Not as far as I know.”

“She’ll be relieved.”

“Hey, anything else?” Tommy asked. “I have to run.”

“No. Thanks.” Jake ended the call and tossed aside the pencil. He stood and grabbed his coat from the hook. If he hurried, he might catch up with Rebecca.

Give her some good news for once.

* * *

Rebecca ran down the hall and out the door. Behind her, the heavy door slammed shut, like all her hopes of reaching her son. She stopped short and blinked against the soft mist of rain as she fumbled to open her umbrella. She strode forward, deciding getting wet was the least of her problems.

She had tried everything. Absolutely everything. The professor had been her last hope to uncover what was bothering her son. At the diner, she had noticed how comfortable Samuel seemed chatting with the professor. She had hoped he knew something that would help her reconnect with her son or at least intervene if the professor could pinpoint her son’s troubles.

But this not knowing... This was more painful.

Maybe the professor did know something and he wasn’t sharing.

Even if he did, what could she do with the information? Samuel paid her no mind.

A strong wind whipped around her long dress and her thick stockings underneath. Not for the first time, she muttered evil thoughts about Willard. He was destroying his family long after his death. The leaves on the trees rustled in the wind, setting her nerves on edge. She released her coat from her tight hold and stuffed one arm, then the other, into the sleeves, juggling her tote bag and umbrella. She ran, fighting back the tears.

She couldn’t lose Samuel. His little sisters would be devastated. She would be devastated.

She swiped at the tears.

She hadn’t realized how tightly she had clung to this last measure. To the notion that Professor Burke would help her.

As a young married woman, Willard had isolated Rebecca and she had felt increasingly alone. She had been ruined when she realized the father of her children was a murderer. But she had never felt more alone, more wrecked, than she felt right now. She could never reclaim her place in the Amish community if she lost both her husband and son to the evils of the outside world.

Her family would never be gut oh tzene. No one would ever respect the Fishers again.

Rebecca had heard rumblings at the diner that someone was dealing drugs in town and it might be one of the Amish youngie. Her insides ached every time she thought of it. She had no proof that Samuel would do such a thing, but his complete change in character made her imagine the worst. Sure, he had lost his friend, Elmer, but Samuel had been through far worse. Or maybe it was the culmination of everything he had been through that had put him in the pit of despair.

Would the professor have told her if he had heard Samuel was dealing drugs? She hadn’t dared to ask him that question. She was fiercely protective of her son.

Rebecca stopped to catch her breath and her bearings. Her chest heaved. Blinking, she looked around. She didn’t know how long she had been in Professor Burke’s office. She only hoped the driver she had hired was waiting for her.

The building in front of her looked unfamiliar. Long shadows darkened her path. Suddenly, she realized the country college campus was deserted except for a couple girls walking away from her, their heads angled close in conversation. A hollow feeling expanded inside Rebecca. She missed her friends. Willard had seen to it that she didn’t have any, both before and after his death.

And here she was alone and...lost. In the rain. Where had the van dropped her off? She had been in such a tizzy when she’d left the professor’s building, she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings.

Stupid woman! Willard’s voice rang in her head. She shook it away. Willard couldn’t control her anymore.

Rebecca strained to see if she could hear the idling of a motor, but all she could hear was the wind whistling through the leaves clinging to the branches.

Rebecca turned on her heel and strode back the way she had come, then made a sharp right near the professor’s building. Now that she had calmed down, she recognized the bench next to a brick memorial.

Yes, she had passed this way.

Only a little farther to the main road where her driver should be waiting.

Her heartbeat returned to normal.

The shadowed brick path wandered between campus buildings.

Just a little bit farther.

Crash. The sound of exploding glass sounded over her head. Instinctively Rebecca ducked against the rain of glass fragments.

Squinting, she lifted her head. Someone was running toward her. A dark shape. Adrenaline made her blood run cold.

Dear Lord, watch over me.

The person stopped near her, the face impossible to make out in the heavy shadows under a large hood. When the person lifted an arm as if to strike her, Rebecca cowered and tiny explosions of light danced in her line of vision. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape.

“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice squeaky with fear. Instinctively she held up her umbrella in a defensive gesture.

Get to the van!

“Rebecca!” She glanced over her shoulder, a wave of relief slamming into her. The professor.

She spun back around and the mysterious person had slipped down a dark alley between two buildings.

Professor Burke caught up to her. “Did you know that person?”

She shook her head, unable to find the words. She held the umbrella down by her side as the rain hit her fiery cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He placed his hand at the small of her back and gently guided her toward his building. Once inside the doorway, he closed her umbrella, then helped her out of her coat. He stepped outside and shook the glass off it over a trash can.

When he stepped back inside, Rebecca finally found her voice. “I think he intended to strike me. He raised his hand. If you hadn’t called my name...”

Compassion shone in his warm brown eyes. Rebecca lowered her gaze. The professor touched her shoulder. “Wait here.”

Rebecca put her coat back on, then stood inside the entryway for what seemed an eternity while the professor ran back outside. When he returned he shook his head as concern creased the corners of his eyes. “Someone smashed the light.”

“Why?”

The professor rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve been harassed before. Because of Willard.”

Cold fear rained down on Rebecca. “W-w-we’ve had the incidents at the farm. The graffiti on the barn. The eggs smashed on the window. Nothing physical. The community was lashing out after what my...what Willard Fisher did.”

The professor scratched his head. “Did anyone know you were coming here to see me?”

Rebecca struggled to keep the threatening tears at bay. “I was talking about it at the diner. I suppose anyone could have overheard me.” A chill skittered down her spine. “I thought time would make things better. Not worse.” She hugged her coat around her midsection. “Do you think that’s what all this is about? Willard?”

“I wish I knew.” The compassion in the professor’s voice warmed her heart. He held out his arm, drawing her farther into the building. “Let’s call the sheriff.” The professor pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Her mouth went dry and she shook her head briskly. “No. I’m not hurt. I don’t want to complicate things. I want to go home.”

The professor hesitated a moment, then much to her relief put the phone away. He seemed to regard her a moment. “I came looking for you to tell you my assistant believes Samuel’s a good kid.”

She studied his face. “What does that mean?”

“My assistant is former Amish. He hangs out with the young men. More than I do, even. He thinks your son is a good kid and likely to be baptized.”

Her eyes flared wide and hope sparked in her heart. Had she heard him correctly?

“Some of the men in his gang are a little wild. I’ve seen it firsthand, but that’s not unusual,” Professor Burke added.

“Maybe I can get him to switch gangs.” Samuel had picked his current buddy bunch when he’d turned sixteen. His group of friends was mostly composed of youth his age. But maybe...

“Maybe.” The doubt in the professor’s eyes unnerved her.

“Uri and Jonas, the brothers helping out on my farm, are in his gang. Maybe I should question them.” She hadn’t done this for fear of embarrassing Samuel in front of his friends and pushing him further away. “Samuel is not himself. I don’t care what your assistant says.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Let me drive you home,” the professor offered.

“But my driver...” She didn’t feel much like arguing; her nerves were too frazzled.

“Do you have his cell phone number? I’ll call him.”

She handed him her hired driver’s business card. She’d call him from the diner whenever she needed a ride. The professor paused a moment when she handed him the card.

Rebecca wanted to cling desperately to the hope the professor had offered her. Samuel is likely to be baptized. But deep in her heart she knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She had once heard her friend Hannah describe it as a mother’s intuition.

Rebecca feared Samuel was being consumed by the dark shadow his father had cast upon his family.

Rebecca shuddered. She feared that she, too, would forever stand in the dark.

TWO

The wheels of Jake’s truck made a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum noise on the road. He usually cranked tunes whenever he was in the car, a surefire method to drown out his thoughts. However, he doubted Rebecca would appreciate his penchant for classic rock. And singing along.

Rebecca shifted in her seat, partially facing him. “I appreciate your kindness in driving me home.” She tapped her fingers on the seat next to her, as if working up the nerve to say something. “I’d appreciate if you left any mention of our conversation out of any publications.”

A sharp dagger twisted in his gut. Jake had prided himself on respecting the Amish and portraying them in the best possible light. But as a professor, he always built off the facts. He never twisted his findings to suit his hypothesis.

“The newspaper quoted you in the paper after Willard’s arrest,” she said accusingly when he didn’t answer. “You shouldn’t have mentioned me or my children.”

“I only mentioned your family in brief. I focused on Willard. You have to appreciate how curious outsiders would be.”

“All too well. Unfortunately, curiosity didn’t stop with the outsiders,” Rebecca muttered.

A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw. “Please forgive me for being blunt, but that was a fascinating case. It rarely happens that an Amish person commits murder.” He had respected her privacy. He had seen the sadness in her eyes and he would have felt like a vulture—like nothing more than a bloodthirsty journalist hot on the trail of a story—if he had approached her for an interview. Instead, he was careful to feed the news media facts regarding the Amish. It was only logical considering his position at the university and his proximity to Apple Creek.

“While you hide behind your fancy job at the university, I’m stuck living the life of a murderer’s widow. How do you think people look at me in town? It’s not like I can avoid their curious stares. I had to get a job at the diner to make ends meet.”

“The Amish community is known for their forgiveness.” Here he was spouting out his Amish research to her, an Amish woman. He did realize the ridiculousness of it, but he was struggling for something to say.

“Many have been kind, but I see the looks of pity in their eyes. It’s painful. A few have acted out...like perhaps tonight.”

“The sheriff wasn’t able to get any leads on the previous incidents?”

“No,” Rebecca whispered, “but once we stopped calling the sheriff, the number of incidents died down. I thought we were in the clear.”

“Do you suspect your Amish neighbors?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine...any of this, really.”

“Now you fear if Samuel leaves the Amish community, the judgment from your neighbors will be unbearable.”

“The look when I gaze into a mirror will be unbearable. I want my old life back. Before Willard lost his way.”

Jake adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I’ll be there for Samuel as much as he allows me to be.” Samuel had grown quieter of late with him, too. “Maybe he’s struggling with his decision to remain Amish.”

“He is acting out. Hanging around with boys who drive cars, skipping out early on church service, listening to loud music...” She let her words trail off, perhaps hoping he’d confirm the list or perhaps add to it. “Maybe his friends are leading him astray.”

“Perhaps.”

Rebecca huffed her frustration. “Samuel has not had the typical Amish upbringing. His mother died when he was a young boy. He had an overly strict father who was killed in jail after his murder conviction. That, I fear, has shaped him more than anything. More than any positive influence on my part.”

“My interviews with Samuel show he was confident that testifying against his father was the right thing to do.”

“After his father’s death...” She stopped to compose herself, then continued, “...Samuel retreated away from everyone. Then this summer, after Elmer’s death, he got worse. Far worse. I’m afraid soon I’ll have lost him for gut.”

She faced him squarely. “Perhaps you can talk to him about his father? I can’t bear to do it. You could convince Samuel that he did the right thing. By stopping his father, he undoubtedly saved lives.” Hope laced her soft voice.

“I can.” Jake turned up her driveway as dusk gathered. He thought he saw a light go off in the basement. Maybe it was the reflection of his headlights in the uneven glass of the narrow basement windows.

“I have built a solid relationship with Samuel and a group of other young Amish men. I can talk to them. I’ll encourage him to come to you. But I must be cautious about how much I reveal. They are young adults. He’s at the age where he needs to be making his own decisions. Living his own life. And dealing with consequences on his own.”

Rebecca unbuckled her seat belt and pushed the door open a fraction. She bowed her head, leaving him studying the top of her bonnet. “Thank you.” She twisted to get out of the car.

“Let me walk you to the door.”

She held up her hand in refusal.

“The house is dark.” Now he was second-guessing himself. Had he seen a light snap off in the basement?

“Samuel is...out.” The statement seemed more a question. “My daughters are visiting my brother, Mark, spending the night. I’ll turn on a lamp once I get inside. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? The incident on campus must have rattled you. I think we should’ve called the sheriff.”

“Neh, I want to put the night behind me. We’ve had enough trouble out here.”

Jake pushed his truck door open. “I’m escorting you to the door.”

“Neh.” Rebecca shook her head for emphasis. “I’ve been on my own for well over a year now. I don’t need a man to walk me to the door. I’m not looking to bring more trouble into my life. If Samuel trusts you and is talking to you, I want that to continue. You’re right. I shouldn’t have interfered. And—” a shy smile tilted the corners of her mouth “—I don’t want to give my neighbors another reason to gossip.” Rebecca ran her fingers down the ties of her bonnet. “You can find me at the diner if there’s anything about Samuel you feel you can share.”

Jake stared at her for a long moment, then pulled his door closed. “Okay.” Her dismissal had been unmistakable. “Please turn on a light once you get inside. I’m not leaving until you do.”

Without saying another word, Rebecca climbed out of the car. In the growing darkness, he watched her move toward the farmhouse, her full skirt swinging around her legs. He had spent three years studying the Amish youth, but he had never had a conversation like he’d experienced tonight.

Rebecca’s dark hair and dark eyes would stay in his memory long after her clean scent left the cab of his dirty old pickup truck. Completely against his nature, he waited in his truck drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, while Rebecca let herself in.

He watched as she disappeared into the house and he waited.

And waited.

As time stretched, his pulse thudded in his ears. No light.

“Come on, Rebecca.”

He angled his head and leaned closer to the windshield, as if that would make the light appear sooner. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash. Three minutes had passed.

Shaking his head, he pushed open the car door.

Something was wrong.

* * *

Rebecca unlocked the front door and stepped inside. She locked the door and placed the keys on the small shelf next to the door. The scent from last night’s fire in the woodstove still hung in the air. Growing up, the smell always had made her feel warm and cozy, the sign of an inviting home in the cold of winter. That had been a long time ago. Too much in her life had changed since the tranquil days of her childhood.

Back sore, she set her tote bag and umbrella down on the bench inside the door.

When she had met Professor Burke she hadn’t expected such a warm gentleman. Some of the Amish elders, although polite, had complained about the so-called professor meeting with their youth and filling their heads with worldly ideas.

However, Rebecca wasn’t sure. She thought the professor was truly interested in studying their way of life, not inserting himself into it. However, she couldn’t hide her disappointment that he couldn’t give her any new information about her son. She had hoped to find a way to reach Samuel because she had failed at all her attempts and Samuel only seemed to be growing more distant with time.

She took off her coat and hung it on a hook. Maybe it was the nature of being a young man on the cusp of making a pivotal decision in his life.

Oh, she wouldn’t be able to bear it if he left Apple Creek. She feared for his soul if he did.

A rattling sounded at the back of the house. Maybe it was Samuel. What if it wasn’t? A quiet yelp sounded in her throat and she almost called out to him when something made her pause.

Holding her breath, she walked through her home toward the kitchen. The floorboards creaked under her deliberate steps. The back door yawned open and a stiff wind sent it crashing against the wall.

A dark shadow bolted across the yard. Tingles of panic bit at her fingertips.

Someone had been in her house.

Rebecca slammed the back door shut and turned the key in the lock. How had they gotten in?

Her raspy breaths sounded in her ears. A pounding at the front door startled her. She spun around and stared, uncertain what to do. She was out here. Alone.

Slowly, she walked to the front door. Her mouth grew dry and a weight bore down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She reached the front door and flattened her hands on the cool wood.

“Who is it?” The words came out as a croak.

“It’s Jake. Are you okay?”

Relief washed over her. With a shaky hand, Rebecca grabbed the keys and opened the door. All her limbs went numb. Her lips couldn’t form any words.

“I got worried when you didn’t turn on a light.” The professor’s gaze swept across the sparsely furnished room cloaked in heavy shadows. Rebecca wondered if he saw something she hadn’t. Rockers sat in the middle of the room. A table with her knitting sat between the chairs. The familiar setting seemed foreign now.

An intruder had been in her home.

Rebecca crossed the room and turned the switch on the kerosene lamp, casting the room in a warm yellow glow. She couldn’t stop shaking. “Someone was in my house. They ran out the back door when I came in.”

The professor stepped back, the surprise evident on his face. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

Rebecca’s eyes drifted to the back of her house. “I s-s-saw s-s-someone running across the yard.” She clamped her jaw to get it to stop shaking.

“I need to check the house. Make sure no one else is here.”

Her stomach dropped to her boots. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She grabbed the arm of the rocker and lowered herself into it, suddenly feeling sick.

“Stay close to me while I check the house.” The professor held out his hand and she studied it a minute before rising to her feet and taking it. A knot of emotions trapped her words. “Do you have a flashlight?”

Nodding, she dropped his hand and led him to the kitchen. She grabbed the cool handle of the solid flashlight sitting on the counter and handed it to him.

Its beam made everything not in its path seem even darker. The professor must have sensed her discomfort. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “Yeah, the professor protecting an Amish woman.”

The professor moved toward the basement door. “Don’t underestimate me. Before I went back to college for my PhD, I was an army ranger.”

“I suppose that makes you tough?” She had heard of the army, of course, but she didn’t know what a ranger was. The Amish were conscientious objectors and didn’t believe in fighting in wars.

The professor opened the basement door and cast the beam of light down the stairs. “Tougher than most.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Stay right here. I’m going to check the basement.”

After a few long, tense-filled minutes, he emerged from the basement. “No one’s down there. Let’s check upstairs.”

She nodded, nerves getting the best of her.

As she skulked behind the professor, afraid to walk through her own home, she could already hear the church elders tsk-tsking over a man who wasn’t her husband going upstairs. Surely they’d understand. If they ever found out. Right now, the elders weren’t her biggest concern. Someone hiding under her bed or lurking in a dark corner was.

Fear knotted her stomach. She’d never be able to sleep tonight.

The professor pointed his chin toward the door at the top of the stairs. “Is this your bedroom?”

She nodded and emitted an indecipherable sound that she hoped he took as yes. She lingered in the doorway as the professor made a sweep of the room. Empty. He did the same in the room Grace and Katie, her young daughters, shared. She was grateful she had left them with her brother, Mark, and his family for the night. They were only six and eight and Rebecca wanted to provide as much consistency for them after everything they had been through in their young lives.

The last upstairs bedroom was Samuel’s. He kept the door shut. He had been doing that for the past few months, ever since Elmer had died. Rebecca immediately felt traitorous for letting this stranger into her son’s room. A room her son didn’t even allow her access to.

The professor gave her a quick nod, his face heavily shadowed in the hallway. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Rebecca skirted around the professor and turned on the kerosene lamp on the bedside table. She sucked in a gasp. The room was a mess. The quilt she had personally made for Samuel was askew on the bed. Papers littered the floor.

“Samuel hasn’t allowed me in here for months.”

A battery-powered radio sat in the corner, and an assortment of silver disks littered the floor around it. She walked over to the closet and picked up a thin laptop and turned it over in her hands. She willed away her nausea as she met the professor’s gaze. “I had no idea he had this.” She held up the computer in her hand. Before her job at the diner, where people came in to work for hours on these things at some of the best tables near the windows, she wouldn’t have known what it was. “I have no idea how he’d afford a laptop. Why would he need this?”

The professor slowly strolled the perimeter of the room. Was he mentally cataloging her son’s belongings as if his room were an exhibit in a museum? Her mouth grew dry. Feelings of betrayal welled up again. Why had she allowed this man who made a living studying the Amish into her son’s bedroom?

“Please don’t use this in your research. This is my family’s private business.” She didn’t want to give the church elders reason to not allow her son into the preparation classes for baptism next summer.

Her heart filled with self-recrimination. She should have never brought an outsider into her life. Their lives.

The professor finally spoke. “You didn’t know he had all these things?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I didn’t want to know.” She lowered herself onto the corner of the bed. “It’s not uncommon for the youngie to explore worldly things. I hoped after his father, he would have been less likely to stray.”

“You suspected something was going on. That’s why you came to me.” She tried to read the question he wasn’t asking. Did he now suspect Samuel of dealing drugs? How else would he have earned the money for these things? Slowly blinking, Rebecca wished she hadn’t listened to her gut. Wasn’t she happier before she knew what her husband was really up to? The same could be said for her son.

What did she really know?

Rebecca smoothed her fingers along the edge of her cap and nodded. “I can’t lose him. I can’t. My daughters would be devastated.”

I would be devastated.

“Do you notice anything missing?”

Rebecca lifted her head and looked around. “In here? I wouldn’t know.”

“What about in the rest of the house?”

“I don’t think so. I have nothing of value.”

“Maybe they wanted something your son had.”

Rebecca’s gaze swept across the room, a room completely foreign to her.

The professor pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I have to call the sheriff. Report a break-in.”

“You can’t.” Desperation made her chest tight.

“I don’t understand. Someone was in your house.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Do you know who it was?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Of course not.”

“I’m calling the sheriff.”

Rebecca watched as the professor dialed the number, then lifted the phone to his ear. She was helpless to stop him.

Rebecca had made a huge mistake.

* * *

Rebecca sat ramrod straight in the rocker across from the professor as they waited in the sitting room for the sheriff to arrive. She was kicking herself for approaching the professor. She should have kept everything in her family private.

Now look what they uncovered in Samuel’s bedroom.

And if she hadn’t wasted time going to the university, she wouldn’t have given the intruder an opportunity to break in.

Willard’s cruel, mocking voice scraped across her brain. Stupid, stupid woman.

Neh, neh, neh! She was not that woman anymore. She was strong. She had to be.

If you are so strong, why is Officer Maxwell on his way over here to nose into your business? The Amish are supposed to stay separate. In this world but not of this world. You’re going to screw things up and lose Samuel now. It wonders me how you’ll ever be respected by the Amish.

Rebecca squared her shoulders, trying to shake her husband’s mocking words free from her brain. She realized her argument was flawed. The intruder could have made his way into her home while she was there. Then what would have happened? She could have been hurt or worse.

The memory of the man advancing on her on campus flashed in her mind. Were these events related? Had graffiti and egg-throwing veered toward more dangerous personal attacks? Would the community never forgive her for Willard’s horrid acts?

If this even had to do with Willard.

Rebecca rubbed her temples, hoping her headache would ease. She dropped her hands and frowned. Better to cloak her growing fear in annoyance. Easier to cast the blame of her predicament onto the professor. However unfair.

Rebecca wasn’t in the mood to admit it, but calling the sheriff was the practical thing to do, even if unorthodox for the Amish.

Footsteps sounded on the porch, followed by a brisk rap at the door. She started to get up. The professor was faster.

Sheriff Maxwell looked past the professor toward her. “Everything okay out here, Rebecca?”

She sighed softly and shook her head. She and the sheriff weren’t strangers. He had been instrumental in making sure her husband was behind bars. Rightfully so, but his presence was a painful reminder of a part of her life she’d rather forget.

The sheriff’s gaze slid over to the professor and Rebecca felt foolish for ever believing a stranger in her life was a good idea. “You know Professor Burke.”

The sheriff opened his mouth but closed it again. Perhaps he was going to say something that had crossed Rebecca’s mind.

Why was he here?

Instead the sheriff held out his hand. “Hello, Jake. What’s going on here? You said Rebecca had a break-in?”

The professor nodded. “Rebecca returned home and saw someone running out the back door.”

“Anything taken?” the sheriff asked.

“Not that I can see.” Rebecca ran her hands down the skirt of her long dress. The professor’s watchful gaze unnerved her.

“Where’s Samuel?” the sheriff asked, glancing around.

Rebecca’s eyes grew wide. “He’s not home.” She couldn’t help but bristle.

“Do you know where your son is?”

“It wasn’t Samuel, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wouldn’t have run away from me.” Did she know that for sure? Hadn’t he been moving away from her for months? She swallowed hard. “Samuel’s a young man. I don’t need to keep track of his every move.” Yet that’s exactly what she had hoped to do by contacting the professor.

The sheriff nodded, as if he were considering this. “If nothing has been taken, I’ll write up a report and keep an eye out for any suspicious people wandering around tonight. Make sure you keep your doors locked.”

Rebecca nodded again, feeling queasy. Many residents of Apple Creek had added locks to their doors after the tragic murder of her friend and neighbor. The locks had been useless in keeping the murderer out of her home. Rebecca had been married to him.

“There’s another thing, Sheriff,” the professor said.

Rebecca spun around and glared at him.

“Rebecca was almost attacked on campus. I’m afraid if I hadn’t come along when I had, she would have been hurt.”

She wanted to deny this, but...she couldn’t. Nervous tingles danced up her arms. In one fell swoop, she had brought two outsiders into her life: the professor and the sheriff. She closed her eyes briefly. If Samuel got wind of this, he’d distance himself further.

She’d lose him forever.

“What happened?” Sheriff Maxwell asked.

Rebecca explained the glass on the lamppost exploding above her head and the man advancing on her. Icy dread pumped through her veins as she finished the story.

“Do you think this is tied to the previous harassment?”

Rebecca lowered her gaze and heat infused her cheeks. The sheriff had been out to her farm after the graffiti and egg-throwing incidents, even though Samuel had begged her not to call the police. He claimed it would only aggravate the situation. But Rebecca had feared for her family’s safety. Someone had to stop them. But no one had. The perpetrators were never found. So Rebecca had stopped bothering the sheriff. Eventually things died down, until recently.

“Have you had any interactions at the diner that made you feel uncomfortable?” the sheriff asked, his tone compassionate.

“It’s quiet at the diner this time of year, mostly college students and locals.” She cut a sideways glance to the professor, wishing she could read his mind.

“You’ve had some help on the farm?”

Rebecca glanced up to find the sheriff studying her closely.

“Yes, Uri and Jonas Yoder. They’ve been a tremendous help. We wouldn’t be able to farm the land without them.”

“Any chance it was either of them in your house tonight?”

“Neh...” Her tone was less than confident, but she hoped the sheriff didn’t pick up on it. She needed the Yoder brothers to harvest the crops. They were the sons of a well-respected Amish couple with ten children. They had been happy to offer their sons to help her in her time of need in exchange for minimal pay.

“Rebecca, if you think of anything else, you know where to reach me,” the sheriff said.

She nodded.

The sheriff headed toward the door, then turned back again. “Hannah and I would love to have you over to the house for dinner. The girls would love to play with Katie and Grace.”

Rebecca folded her hands in front of her. “That would be nice.” For her daughters. For her, seeing Hannah brought back painful memories. Rebecca’s husband had killed Hannah’s sister and brother-in-law, leaving Hannah to care for her two nieces in Apple Creek, separate from the Amish community. Rebecca and Hannah had been dear friends as children, a lifetime ago.

A stomping sound on the porch drew all eyes to the door. Rebecca’s heart sank. Samuel burst into the house. Under his broad-brimmed straw hat shadowing his eyes, she had a hard time discerning if he was angry or afraid.

Samuel took off his hat and ran his hand over his blunt-cut hair. “What’s going on?”

The more her son hung around with the youngie, the more he sounded like an Englisher. It was as if the young Amish were all trying to shed their Amish roots.

“When I came home someone was in the house.”

Samuel’s gaze wandered to the stairs, perhaps thinking of his bedroom.

Oh, Samuel, please talk to me.

“Who was it?” Samuel’s words were clipped.

“I don’t know. He ran out the back. Did one of your friends stop by?”

Samuel scratched his head, leaving a tuft of hair sticking up. “Neh.” Glancing at the sheriff, then the professor, he lowered his gaze. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ll stop by the Yoder farm. See if the young men are home,” the sheriff said.

Samuel’s eyes grew wide. “Neh. Mem, why would you bring these outsiders here? Don’t we have enough trouble being accepted among our neighbors after what Willard did?” He used his father’s given name to distance himself. What son wanted to admit his father was a murderer?

Rebecca’s knees grew weak. “My son is right. That will only stir up more trouble. The Yoders are gut boys.”

The sheriff hesitated a fraction, as if he were thinking it over. He then clapped Samuel’s shoulder. “Good to see you, son. Keep an eye out for your mem here and be sure to call me if you guys see anything suspicious.” The sheriff was savvy enough to know most of the youngie carried cell phones during Rumspringa. It was frowned upon, but the elders turned a blind eye to it, hoping the young people would bend a knee when the time came.

“Good night, Sheriff,” Rebecca said, eager to see him leave.

She closed the door behind him, then rested her backside against it. “Is everything okay, Samuel?”

Her son narrowed his gaze at the professor. “Are you friends with my mem?”

The professor seemed to be searching for the right thing to say. “I hope we can be.”

Samuel’s nose twitched as if he were trying to process the scene. Rebecca’s heart pulsed in her ears. She didn’t want to push Samuel away by revealing she had gone to the professor to try to exact information out of him.

Apparently sensing this, the professor spoke up. “I gave your mom a ride home.” An apologetic smile slanted his lips. He had told a lie of omission, obviously leading her son to believe he had given her a ride home from the diner. “Then all this craziness broke out.”

“Oh.” Samuel stared straight ahead, skepticism written on his face. “I’m going to bed.” He stomped up a few stairs before Rebecca called to him.

“Do you know anything about what happened here tonight?”

Samuel stopped without turning around. “How would I know? I wasn’t home.”

Rebecca caught the professor’s eye. Unease twisted her insides, worrying how far she’d push Samuel.

“You must be tired.”

Samuel nodded curtly. “Yah, I’m going upstairs.” Samuel continued his stomp up the stairs like a petulant child. When he reached his room, he hollered down the stairs. “Who was in my room?” He thudded down the stairs, his chest heaving.

“I was in your room.” Rebecca approached the bottom of the stairs. “Where did you get all that stuff?” The walls of the house seemed to sway as she waited for the answer.

Samuel pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything.

Rebecca worried about the consequences of talking in front of the professor, but she was overwhelmed. She couldn’t let this defiance from her son slide a minute longer. “Where did you get the money for a computer?”

A muscle ticked in Samuel’s jaw and suddenly he looked like a man. An angry man. “Stay out of my room,” he spat out.

“Samuel, your mother’s worried about you.” The professor moved next to her, making her feel like for once she wasn’t alone.

“You don’t have to worry.” Samuel ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door.

Rebecca and the professor exchanged worried looks.

Samuel was definitely hiding something.

THREE

The next afternoon at the diner, Rebecca grabbed the whipped cream can she could see through the glass door of the refrigerator and yanked off the cap. Lost in thought she squeezed the trigger on the dispenser and watched the white cream ooze out into a hearty dollop on two pieces of apple pie.

Drawing in a deep breath, she picked up the plates and turned her back to push through the swinging door leading to the dining room. The door swung back with a swoosh on its hinge, and she delivered the two pieces of pie to the elderly couple in the booth by the window.

“Can I get you anything else?” Rebecca asked.

“No, dear,” the older woman said, “thank you.” The couple came in at least once a week and Rebecca couldn’t help but envy the easy way they chatted and held hands over dessert.

As Rebecca retreated to the counter, the elderly gentleman muttered something about how delicious the pie was.

Flo, the waitress on duty with her, pulled the filter basket out of the coffeemaker and turned it upside down over the garbage. With a gentle tap on the edge of the can, the wet coffee filter and used grounds slid into the garbage.

Flo was in her sixties and she was a fixture at the diner as much as shoofly pie and apple butter. People might have thought she was Amish because she wore her long gray hair in a bun at the nape of her neck and her plain gray waitress uniform might have passed for Amish to the average tourist.

But Flo was not Amish. She had English sensibilities and had raised three boys, now grown. She freely shared advice with Rebecca whether she wanted it or not.

Flo spun around, planted her fist on her hip and smiled. “Still worried about Samuel?”

“I...um...” Rebecca muttered, embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming and not getting her work done. She grabbed the dishtowel from the back counter and wiped down the already clear countertop. There was usually enough going on in the small diner to keep both waitresses hopping, but now just so happened to be the short lull between lunch and dinner.

“Well, I didn’t figure you were staring at me because you forgot how the coffeemaker worked,” Flo said with a funny smile. “What’s on your mind?”

Rebecca twisted the rag in her hands. “I went to see Professor Burke last night.” Rebecca didn’t have many Amish friends of late and she appreciated the friendship of the older woman. Rebecca missed her Amish friends, her family. Her parents had long since moved to an Amish community in Florida for health reasons and her friends had disappeared as Rebecca’s troubles multiplied.

Flo raised a pale eyebrow and regarded Rebecca for a long moment. She was a solid Christian woman, but she had a wicked sense of humor that could make Rebecca blush. That knowledge, coupled with the glint in her eye, had Rebecca bracing herself for the older woman’s reply.

“Professor Burke is a very handsome man.” Flo twisted her lips as if considering something. “Too bad he’s not Amish or you’re not English. You’d make a striking couple.”

Rebecca smoothed a hand across the edge of her bonnet, feeling her cheeks heat. None of her Amish friends spoke this boldly. “It has nothing to do with that. I wanted to talk to him about—”

“You know who he reminds me of?” Flo grabbed a fresh filter and used the orange scoop to put fresh coffee grounds in the coffeemaker.

Leaning her hip against the counter, Rebecca didn’t bother to answer because she knew Flo would get to it in her own sweet time. Before meeting Flo, she had never been around a woman who said whatever was on her mind. The Amish women Rebecca had grown up with were far more reserved.

The older woman snapped the coffee basket back into place and turned to face Rebecca. “You know who I’m talking about, right? Professor Burke reminds me of that really handsome FBI agent who works with that Bones lady.”

Confusion creased Rebecca’s brow. “Excuse me?”

Flo’s face lit up and she laughed, waving her long fingers in front of her. “Sometimes I forget you don’t watch TV.” She shook her head. Flo grew serious and stopped doing busy work, giving Rebecca her full attention. “I’m sorry. Tell me why you went to see Professor Burke.”

Rebecca glanced toward the dining area to make sure no new customers had come in. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. The only patrons were the elderly couple by the window, and they seemed content to chat over their pie and coffee.

“Samuel and some of the other Amish youth meet with Professor Burke for research purposes. I wanted to see if he could help me understand why Samuel has been withdrawn lately.”

“How so? Did he tell you something about Samuel that you didn’t want to hear?”

“No, but when he drove me home—”

“He drove you home?”

“He was being nice.” Rebecca decided to leave the part about being attacked on campus out of the story. “Someone was in my house when I got home.”

“Oh, dear.” Flo leaned forward and cupped Rebecca’s elbow. “Who was it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t know who it was. The intruder ran out the back door. Professor Burke called the sheriff.”

“The sheriff will track him down, I’m sure of it.” Flo tried to buoy Rebecca’s mood with her optimism.

“The only problem is that the Amish try to limit their interaction with law enforcement.”

Flo squeezed Rebecca’s elbow and gave her a reassuring smile. “Sometimes calling the sheriff can’t be avoided. You know that.”

A guilty heat burned Rebecca’s stomach. Would everyone always remind her of her horrible past?

“I’m trying to help Samuel—not get him into more trouble.”

The lines around Flo’s eyes deepened in confusion. “I don’t understand why calling the sheriff would affect Samuel.”

Rebecca bowed her head. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with all my troubles.”

“You need to share or—” Flo lifted her hands to both sides of her head, then flared her fingers “—or your head will explode.”

“Well, the professor wasn’t able to give me any new information about Samuel’s bad mood. When the sheriff arrived last night, Samuel was rude to him. I don’t need my son to be on the sheriff’s bad side.”

Flo’s expression softened. “I’m sorry you’re having troubles, but maybe it’s time you stop smothering that boy.” She laughed, a sharp sound. “A boy. Listen to me. He’s a man. He could vote if he was so inclined. Stop trying to make him fit into a certain mold.” She lifted her finger and tapped the side of her head. “He’s got his own ideas.”

Rebecca blinked slowly, realizing her English friend wouldn’t understand.

As if reading her mind, Flo said, “I’m a mother, too. I raised three boys. My husband was convinced that one of them would become an engineer like him.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “One became an accountant, another a policeman, and the last—much to my husband’s distress—took up creative writing. Poor kid can’t afford to pay attention, but my husband, God rest his soul, finally had to realize each of his sons had their own path in this life.”

An ache Rebecca couldn’t define filled her.

“The Amish are not like the English. We don’t seek personal fulfillment. We are community-centered. God-centered.”

“Is your son happy?”

Rebecca flinched. “That is not—” She stopped herself, realizing her friendship with Flo was more important than slamming her over the head with how the Amish culture is different from the outside world.

“I realize the Amish march to a different beat, but Samuel is his own person. If he’s not happy, something has to change.”

Rebecca didn’t do well with change.

The bells on the diner door jangled, startling her. Rebecca’s friend and the sheriff’s wife, Hannah, strolled through the door with her young niece Sarah.

Flo leaned in close and whispered, “Hannah Maxwell seems happy since she left the Amish.”

Rebecca walked away without comment because she couldn’t find the words.

Hannah lifted her hand and waved. She placed her hand on her niece’s bun. “Sarah had ballet class in town and we thought we’d stop by and say hello. How are you?”

Rebecca smiled, feeling a little less lonely. Hannah had stopped by because she was married to the sheriff and she knew Rebecca was struggling right now.

“I’m doing fine.” Rebecca smiled at Sarah, admiring her hair, thinking that not that long ago the little girl had been wearing a bonnet and long dress, not a leotard and a pink bow. This was before Hannah had come back to town to care for her deceased sister’s children and had fallen in love with the sheriff.

“We’re going to start practicing for the Nutcracker,” the little girl said. “I’m hoping to be one of the sugarplum fairies.”

“Christmas is still months away.” Rebecca met Hannah’s gaze.

“They start practicing early.” Hannah unzipped the front of her niece’s jacket. “Maybe you can color for a few minutes while I talk to my friend Rebecca.”

Sarah slid into a nearby booth and Rebecca gave her a child’s paper place mat and three crayons. “Hope you like red, blue and green.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, picking up the red crayon and following the maze path on the place mat.

Hannah moved toward the counter and Rebecca followed. “Spencer told me he saw you yesterday.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

Hannah waved her hand in dismissal. “My husband doesn’t bring his work home. He’s a good sheriff. He keeps his business confidential, but I sensed that you might need a friend to lean on.” She tilted her head to look into Rebecca’s eyes. “You okay?”

Rebecca sat on the edge of a stool and crossed her arms. “Don’t you sometimes wish we could go back to when we were all little girls? You, me, your sister. Collecting things for our hope chests.”

Hannah’s eyes grew red-rimmed and she gave Rebecca’s arm a squeeze. “I miss my sister every day.” She sniffed. “Nothing turned out like we had planned.” Hannah’s lips curved into a thin smile. “But that doesn’t mean some things can’t turn out okay.” She glanced in the direction of her niece. “I love my sister’s daughters like my own and Spencer is a good man. I found light at the end of a very dark tunnel.”

Rebecca feared the light at the end of her tunnel was a flickering pinprick in danger of being extinguished.

Rebecca squared her shoulders and pushed off the stool. “I’m going through a rough patch, but we’ll be fine.”

“I’m here if you need me. Please don’t be a stranger.”

“Denki.” The Amish word for thank you came easily when chatting with her old friend.

“Well, we need to pick up Emma from her friend’s house and get home.” She reached out and patted Rebecca’s hand.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hannah said to her niece. Sarah scooted out of the booth clutching the place mat.

Rebecca watched Hannah and Sarah walk hand in hand toward the exit. Hannah glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to call.” She jerked her head toward the phone mounted on the wall, indicating Rebecca could call her from the diner if she needed her. “You don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

Rebecca nodded. Hannah seemed happy outside the Amish, so why did the thought of her son leaving the Amish fill her with unbearable sadness?

Because leaving meant walking away from everything Rebecca firmly believed. It wasn’t about happiness in the moment; it was about faith and God and heaven.

What would happen if Samuel left?

Rebecca ran a hand over her forehead. The beginning of a headache was pulsing behind her eyes.

“Excuse me.” The elderly lady seated at the window booth snapped Rebecca out of her reverie. “Could we have more coffee, please?”

Rebecca tugged at the edge of her apron, embarrassed that she had been inattentive. “Of course.” She spun on her heel and strode toward the coffeemaker.

Flo came out of the back and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, honey. You need to let go and let God.”

Rebecca smiled in spite of herself. Flo’s outward expressions of faith were contrary to her Amish upbringing, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

She had to have faith.

A tiny bit of the weight lifted from her shoulders. She grabbed the coffee and strolled over to her only customers.

* * *

A few nights later, Jake pulled his pickup truck—a vehicle that had seen better days—over to the edge of the road in front of the Troyers’ farm. The sun had already set and the final remnants of light were making their last stand. An unpainted split rail fence separated the property from the country road. Beyond the house, barn and a few small structures, corn grew for miles.

Jake pushed open his truck’s door and climbed out. He flipped up his collar, hunched into his coat and shuddered. He’d grown up in this part of the country, but he’d never get used to how quickly summer’s heat turned to fall’s cool evenings.

Jake had stopped by the diner this afternoon. He had been disappointed that he hadn’t run into Rebecca, but he had gleaned some useful information. He’d overheard the Troyers had hosted church service this morning, which meant they were hosting the youth singing now. Jake hoped he had timed it correctly to catch some of the youngie as they were arriving. He wanted to talk to Samuel, in part to clear up any misunderstanding as to why he was at his home the other night. He didn’t want to jeopardize his relationship with the Amish youth. Outwardly, it would hurt his research and his position at the university, but more important, he wanted to be in a position to help Samuel if he had gotten caught up in something. If Samuel pushed him away, he wouldn’t be able to help.

Jake’s failure to help Elmer would haunt him forever.

Jake wanted to see firsthand why Rebecca was worried about Samuel. To date, the young men he had talked to had not given him cause for major concern apart from the normal shenanigans of an Amish male prior to baptism. But the sheriff’s concerns about drugs in the Amish community made him wary.

And Rebecca’s plea for help wouldn’t allow him to let this go.

The tiny stones on the driveway crunched under his brown loafers. Singing flowed out from the barn. The event must have started earlier than he had thought. As he got closer, he noticed a few Amish boys leaning against a buggy, the red glow of cigarettes lighting up with each puff like fireflies setting the night aglow.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Jake approached them, scanning their faces. No Samuel.

“Ah, it’s the professor. So nice to see you,” one of them said. Even with the Pennsylvania Dutch accent, Jake recognized the universal language of sarcasm.

Jake knew the youth. Eli Troyer. Apparently being the host family for the singing didn’t mean he felt obligated to sit through song after song from the Ausbund.

“Sorry to crash your party,” Jake said, trying to sound nonthreatening.

Eli tossed his cigarette on the gravel and snuffed it out with the tip of his boot. Uri and Jonas Yoder, Rebecca’s farmhands, watched silently, puffing on their cigarettes. Jake wondered how Eli’s father felt about finding all the cigarette butts around the barn after the Amish youth descended upon his home.

“What’s up, Professor? You looking to take notes? Count how many cigarettes I’ve had? Rat me out to my mem?” Eli gave him a pointed glare, narrowing his lips and emitting a steady stream of smoke.

Jake ignored the comment. “I’m looking for Samuel.”

Eli adjusted his hat farther back on his head, the soft light from the barn lit on the amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t you get enough information from his mem?”

One of the Yoder brothers laughed, a monotone sound that lacked amusement.

“I told you my research was private. That I protect your identities unless you give me permission to use your names.”

Eli tapped out another cigarette and put it between his lips without lighting it. The crunching sound of footsteps on gravel grew closer. Samuel strolled around the corner. His eyes widened a fraction at seeing Jake, but he quickly composed himself, shoved his hands under his armpits and exuded an air of aloofness. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m done talking.”

“Because I talked to your mother?”

Samuel pushed the gravel around with the toe of his boot. “Exactly. You didn’t keep your end of the bargain. I talked to you for research for some stupid paper you had to write on the wild Amish youth.” In the heavy shadows, Jake couldn’t see it, but he sensed an eye roll accompanying the word stupid.

“My research is important.” But not as important as the welfare of this young man.

“Not to me.”

Uri, Jonas and Eli laughed at their friend’s witty comeback. It was as Jake feared. However, securing his research subjects was only part of the reason he had driven out here tonight. The other was concern for Rebecca’s safety. Someone obviously had something against her and wasn’t ready to let it go. He had heard rumblings throughout the Amish community that not everyone believed Rebecca was blameless. He had heard one young man repeat the ramblings of his father. “It wonders me how a wife couldn’t know what her husband was up to. She’s just as guilty, I tell you.”

Then there was the issue of drugs in Apple Creek and Rebecca’s concerns that perhaps Samuel had gotten himself involved.

How had he paid for all the electronics in his room?

Like a research puzzle, Jake wanted to snap all the pieces into place in hopes of discovering what was going on here before any more lives were ruined.

“Can you give me a few minutes, Samuel?” Jake tipped his head toward his truck parked on the side of the road. “I can give you a ride home. It’ll be a lot warmer than riding in a friend’s buggy. Unless, of course, you brought your own buggy.” Jake glanced around but couldn’t determine how Samuel had gotten here.

Samuel glanced down, studying the gravel. “I’m going to the singing.”

“We both know you have no plans to join the group.”

“The professor got one thing right.” Uri playfully punched Samuel in the arm. “But my friend here ain’t going with an Englisher.”

Jake caught Samuel’s eye; a mix of defiance and fear flashed in their depths.

Jake pulled the zipper on his jacket up to his neck, blocking the brisk fall breeze. “Can I ask you guys something?”

Eli leaned back on the buggy and rested the heel of his boot on the wheel. The other three youth looked at him with apparent disinterest.

“The sheriff told me there are a lot of drugs flowing through Apple Creek.”

Eli grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You guys know anything about that? Heard about anyone dealing?” Jake jerked his chin toward the crops. “Heard of anyone growing marijuana?”

Uri laughed. “Yeah, we’ll be selling marijuana at the roadside stand next to corn and pumpkins.”

Jake turned to Samuel. “How about you?”

Samuel kept his expression neutral. “The only drug stories I hear are the ones that make the papers.” Like Elmer’s tragic accident. “Sorry...” He shrugged. “Can’t help you.”

They stood staring at one another, silent save for the youth singing in four-part harmony in the barn.

Eli pushed off the wagon wheel. “Let’s get out of here. This singing is a drag tonight.” Eli gestured to what Jake thought was the buggy with an overabundance of reflector decals, but actually, he was looking past the Amish form of transportation to a ten-year-old beater car Jake hadn’t noticed before. “Let’s leave before my mem brings out snacks. Then we’ll be forced to join the group.”

“Samuel?” Jake asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“I gotta go, man.” Samuel turned his back to Jake and followed his friends. The four of them got into the car, Uri behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and the worn tires spit out gravel before the treads finally gained purchase and the car tore out of the yard.

A couple horses lifted their heads and snorted in protest. Jake watched the red taillights disappear into the dark night.

Jake wondered if his father had been this rebellious before he convinced Jake’s mother to pack it up and leave everything that she’d ever known for a life on the outside.

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