DANGEROUS INHERITANCE

When Carrie York arrives at the house she inherited from her father in an Amish community, she’s shocked to discover a soldier’s body on the property. Her neighbor, army special agent Tyler Zimmerman, starts investigating the murder, and Carrie fears it’s related to her father’s mysterious death. Tyler doesn’t trust the pretty speechwriter or the suspicious timing of her arrival—especially since her boss is responsible for his father’s death. But when someone attacks Carrie, Tyler insists on protecting her. With his help, will Carrie be able to hold on to her inheritance and her life?

Military Investigations: Serving their country and solving crimes.

Clunk-clunk-clunk.

Startled by the sound, Carrie gripped the steering wheel of her car even more tightly as she drove through the rain. The car suddenly veered left, crossed the center line and crashed into the ditch that edged the roadway.

Rain pelted the windshield. She struggled to free herself and clawed at the door, unable to push it open.

“Help!” she cried, knowing no one would hear her.

“Carrie!”

Tyler! He grabbed the door handle and ripped it open. Reaching around her, he unbuckled her seat belt.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. He pulled her free.

Rain pummeled her face as she looked into eyes filled with concern.

She swallowed down the fear and nodded. “I…I’m okay. How—”

He turned to study her car, then glanced back to where the wheel lay on the edge of the roadway. Retrieving the tire, he pried off the hubcap. “Three of your lug nuts are missing.”

Her ears roared, and she shivered in the chilly rain.

“Someone tampered with your wheel, Carrie,” he said, his voice deathly calm. “They wanted the tire to fall off.”

DEBBY GIUSTI is an award-winning Christian author who met and married her military husband at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful children and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of mystery and suspense that touch the heart and soul. Visit Debby online at debbygiusti.com, blog with her at seekerville.blogspot.com and craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com, and email her at debby@debbygiusti.com.

Plain Danger

Debby Giusti

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Store up treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.

—Matthew 6:20–21

This story is dedicated to the wonderful readers

who buy my books and share them with their friends.

Your encouragement and support mean so much to me.

Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Bailey’s plaintive howl snapped Carrie York awake with a start. The Irish setter had whined at the door earlier. After letting him out, she must have fallen back to sleep.

Raking her hand through her hair, Carrie rose from the guest room bed and peered out the window into the night. Streams of moonlight cascaded over the field behind her father’s house and draped the freestanding kitchen house, barn and chicken coop in shadows. In the distance, she spotted the dog, seemingly agitated as he sniffed at something hidden in the tall grass.

“Hush,” she moaned as his wail continued. The neighbors on each side of her father’s property—one Amish, the other a military guy from nearby Fort Rickman—wouldn’t appreciate having their slumber disturbed by a rambunctious pup who was too inquisitive for his own good.

Still groggy with sleep, she pulled on her clothes, stumbled into the kitchen and flicked on the overhead light. Her coat hung on a hook in the anteroom. Slipping it on, she opened the back door and stepped into the cold night.

“Bailey, come here, boy.”

Black clouds rolled overhead, blocking the light from the moon. Narrowing her eyes, she squinted into the darkness and started off through the thick grass, following the sound of the dog’s howls.

She’d have to hire someone to mow the field and care for the few head of cattle her dad raised, along with his chickens. Too much for one person to maintain, especially a woman who knew nothing about farming.

Again the dog’s cry cut through the night.

Anxiety tingled her neck. “Come, boy. Now.”

The dog sniffed at something that lay at his feet. A dead animal perhaps? Maybe a deer?

“Bailey, come.”

The dog glanced at her, then turned back to the downed prey.

A stiff breeze blew across the field. She shivered and wrapped the coat tightly around her neck, feeling vulnerable and exposed, as if someone were watching...and waiting.

Letting out a deep breath to ease her anxiety, she slapped her leg and called to the dog, “Come, boy. We need to go inside.”

Reluctantly, Bailey trotted back to where she stood.

“Good dog.” She patted his head and scratched under his neck. Feeling his wet fur, she raised her hand and stared at the tacky substance that darkened her fingers.

She gasped. Even with the lack of adequate light, the stain looked like blood.

“Are you hurt?”

The dog barked twice.

Bending down, she wiped her hand on the dew-damp grass, then stepped closer to inspect the carcass of the fallen animal.

A gust of wind whipped through the clearing and tangled her hair across her eyes so she couldn’t see. Using her unsoiled hand, she shoved the wayward strands back from her face, and holding her breath to ward off the cloying odor, she stared down at the pile of fabric that lay at Bailey’s feet.

Her heart pounded in her chest. A deafening roar sounded in her ears. She whimpered, wanting to run. Instead she held her gaze.

Not a deer.

But a man.

She stepped closer, seeing combat boots and a digital-patterned uniform covering long legs and a muscular trunk.

Goose bumps pimpled her arms as she glanced higher. For half a heartbeat, her mind refused to accept what her eyes saw.

A scream caught in her throat. She turned away, unable to process the ghastly sight, and ran toward the house, needing the protection of four walls and locked doors.

The setter followed behind her, barking. Between his yelps, she heard a branch snap, then another. Straining, she recognized a different sound. Her chest tightened.

Footfalls.

Heart skittering in her chest, she increased her pace, all too aware that someone, other than Bailey, was running after her.

Coming closer.

She sprinted for the house and slipped on the slick grass as she rounded the corner. Catching herself, she climbed the kitchen steps and pushed open the door. Pulse pounding, gasping for air, she slammed it closed after Bailey scooted in behind her. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the lock. The dead bolt slipped into place.

She ran into the family room. Drawing the curtains with one hand, she grabbed the phone with the other and punched in 911.

Listening, she expected to hear footsteps on the porch and pounding at the door. The only sound was the phone ringing in her ear.

Grateful when the operator answered, she rattled off her father’s address. “I found someone...in the back pasture. Military uniform. Looks like he’s army.”

Her father—a man she hadn’t known about until the lawyer’s phone call—had died ten days earlier. Now a body had appeared on his property. Touching the curtain that covered the window, she shivered. The horrific sight played through her mind.

“Someone c...cut the soldier’s throat.” She pulled in a breath. “So much blood. I...I heard footsteps, coming after me. I’m afraid—”

Her hand trembled as she drew the phone closer. “I’m afraid he’s going to kill me.”

* * *

Working late at his home computer, Criminal Investigation Division special agent Tyler Zimmerman heard sirens and peered out the window of his rental house. A stream of police sedans raced along Amish Road, heading in his direction.

For an instant, he was that ten-year-old boy covered in blood and screaming for his father to open his eyes. The memory burned like fire.

He swallowed hard and took in the present-day scene that contrasted sharply with the tranquility of the rural Amish community where he had chosen to live specifically because of its peaceful setting.

Eleven years in the military, with the last six in the army’s Criminal Investigation Division, had accustomed him to sirens and flashing lights at the crime scenes he investigated, but when the caravan of police cruisers turned into the driveway next door, Tyler’s mouth soured as thoughts from his youth returned. Once again, violence was striking too close to home.

Leaving his computer, he hurried into the kitchen, grabbed his SIG Sauer and law enforcement identification before he shrugged into his CID windbreaker and stepped outside. The cool night air swirled around him. He hustled across the grassy knoll that separated his modest three-bedroom ranch with the historic home next door.

The flashing lights from the lineup of police cars bathed the stately Greek revival in an eerie strobe effect. The house, with its columned porch and pedimental gable, dated from before the Civil War when life wasn’t filled with shrill sounds and pulsating light.

Men in blue swarmed the front lawn. Others hustled toward the field behind the main house. A woman stood on the porch, next to one of the classical white columns. Her arms hung limp at her sides. She was tall and slender with chestnut hair that swept over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes—caught in the glare—were wide with worry as she stared at the chaos unfolding before her.

Gauging from the number of law enforcement officials who had responded, something significant had gone down. For a moment, Tyler switched out of cop mode and considered the plight of the stoic figure on the porch. Whatever had happened tonight would surely affect her life, and not for the better. Ty was all too aware that everything could change in the blink of an eye. Or the swerve of an oncoming car.

Approaching a tall officer in his midthirties who seemed in charge, Ty held up his identification. “Special Agent Tyler Zimmerman. I’m with the CID at Fort Rickman.”

The guy stuck out his hand. “You’ve saved me a phone call to post. Name’s Brian Phillips.”

He pointed to a second man who approached. “This is Officer Steve Inman.”

Tyler extended his hand and then pointed to his house. “I live next door and saw your lights. I wondered if you needed any assistance.”

“Appreciate your willingness to get involved,” Inman said with a nod.

“You probably know that the owner of the house, a retired sergeant major named Jeffrey Harris, died ten days ago,” Ty volunteered.

“I remember when the call came in about his body being found.” Phillips pursed his lips. “Seems he lost his footing on a hill at the rear of his property and fell to his death. Terrible shame. Now this.”

Tyler pointed to the forlorn figure on the porch. “Who’s the woman?”

“Carrie York. Evidently she’s the estranged daughter of the deceased home owner.” The taller cop glanced down at a notepad he held. “Ms. York called 911 at twelve-thirty a.m. She had arrived at her father’s house approximately six hours earlier after traveling from her home in Washington, DC. She was asleep when her father’s dog alerted her to the body. Supposedly the deceased is in uniform.”

“Army?”

“Camo of some sort. Could be a hunter for all we know. Some of my men secured the crime scene. I’m headed there now. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

Phillips turned to Inman. “Get Reynolds and question Ms. York. See what you can find out.”

“Will do.” Inman motioned to another officer and the twosome hustled toward the porch, climbed the steps and approached the woman. She acknowledged them with a nod and then glanced at Tyler as he fell in step with Phillips and passed in front of the house.

In the glare of the pulsing lights, she looked pale and drawn. A stiff breeze tugged at her hair. She turned her face into the wind while her gaze remained locked on Tyler.

Warmth stirred within him, and a tightness hitched his chest. The woman’s hollow stare struck a chord deep within him. Maybe it was the resignation on her face. Or fatigue, mixed with a hint of fear. Death was never pretty. Especially for a newcomer far from home and surrounded by strangers.

He dipped his chin in acknowledgment before he and Phillips rounded the corner of the house and headed toward the field of tall grass that stretched before them.

“How well did you know your neighbor?” Phillips fixed his gaze on the crime scene ahead.

“Not well. I’m new to the area. We exchanged pleasantries a few times. The sergeant major seemed like a nice guy, quiet, stayed to himself.”

Tyler had spent the last month and a half focused on his job, leaving his house early each morning and returning after dark. Being new to post and getting acclimated into his assignment didn’t leave time for socializing with the neighbors.

The cop glanced left and pointed to the Amish farm house on the adjoining property. “What about the other neighbors?”

“Isaac Lapp’s a farmer. He and his wife and their eight-year-old son are visiting relatives in Florida.”

“Probably for the best, especially so for the boy’s sake. No kid should witness a violent death.”

Tyler’s chest constricted. Without bidding, the memory returned. His father’s lifeless body, the mangled car, the stench of gasoline and spilled blood. He blew out a stiff breath and worked his way back to the present. Why were the memories returning tonight?

Two officers had already cordoned off an area near the rear of the field and stood aside as Ty and Phillips approached. Ducking under the crime scene tape, they headed to where battery-operated lights illuminated the body. The victim lay on his side, his back to them. No mistaking the digital pattern of the Army Combat Uniform or the desert boots spattered with blood.

Grass had been trampled down as if there’d been a struggle. The earth was saturated with blood. The acrid smell of copper and the stench of death filled the night.

Ty circled the body until he could see the guy’s face and the gaping wound to his neck. He paused for a long moment, taking in the ghastly sight of man’s inhumanity. What kind of person would slice another man’s throat?

The victim’s hands were scraped. His left index finger was bare, but then not all married guys wore rings. Blood had pooled around his head.

Ty hunched down to get a closer view. Fellows, the military name tag read. The 101st Airborne patch on his right sleeve indicated he had served with the Screaming Eagles in combat. The rank of corporal was velcroed on his chest. The patch on his left arm identified that he was currently assigned to the engineer battalion at Fort Rickman.

“Looks like he’s one of ours.” Tyler stood and glanced at Phillips. “I’ll contact the CID on post as well as his unit.”

Pulling his business card from his pocket, Tyler handed it to the cop. “Let me know what your crime scene folks find. I’d like a moment with Ms. York as soon as Officers Inman and Reynolds end their questioning.”

“No problem. Tell them you talked to me.” Phillips pocketed the business card. “I’ll keep you abreast of what we find.”

Tyler retraced his steps to the house, climbed to the porch and tapped lightly on the door before he turned the knob and stepped inside. A young officer glanced at the identification he held up and motioned him forward.

Inman and Reynolds stood near the fireplace in the living room. Ms. York sat, arms crossed, in a high-back chair.

Inman excused himself and quickly walked to where Tyler waited in the foyer. “Was the victim military?”

Tyler nodded. “From Fort Rickman. I’ll notify his unit.” He handed the cop his business card. “The CID’s resources are at your disposal. Let me know what you need.”

“Glad we can work together.” Glancing into the living room, Inman kept his voice low as he added, “I presume you want to talk to her.”

“Whenever you’re done. Has she provided anything of value thus far?”

“Only that she works as a speechwriter for a US senator in DC. Probably a big-city girl, with big-city ideas.” Inman smirked. “She asked whether the FBI would be notified.”

“And you told her—”

“That we’d handle the initial investigation.”

Noting the agitation in the cop’s voice, Tyler was grateful for the good relationship between the Freemont Police Department and the Fort Rickman CID, which hadn’t always been the case from the stories he’d heard around the office. Things could change again, but currently the two law enforcement agencies worked well together. A plus for Tyler. Getting in at the onset of a case made his job easier and pointed to a faster resolution, especially on a death investigation.

“Maybe there’s a reason she requested the feds,” he suggested. “If she works for a senator, there might be something she’s not telling you.”

“Could be. We can check it out. She claims to have heard footsteps as she ran back to the house.”

“Did she get a visual?”

“Unfortunately, no. She didn’t see anyone. Could be an overanxious imagination, especially after finding the body. Still, you never know. People have been known to fake grief and shock.”

“Did you get her boss’s name?”

Inman glanced down at his open notebook. “It’s here somewhere.”

Tyler turned his gaze to the living area, feeling an emotional pull deep within him. Usually he didn’t allow his feelings to come into play during an investigation. This case seemed different. Perhaps because her father had been a neighbor. The close proximity might have triggered a familiarity of sorts. Or maybe because she’d lost her father. Tyler could relate. Still, he hadn’t expected the swell of empathy he felt for her.

“Here it is.” Inman stepped closer and pointed to his notebook. “Ms. York works as a speechwriter for Senator Kingsley.”

Any warmth Tyler had sensed disappeared, replaced with a chilling memory of a man from his past.

“Senator Drake Kingsley?” Ty asked.

Inman nodded. “That’s right. You know the name?”

Worse than that, Tyler knew the man—a man he would never forget and never forgive. Drake Kingsley had killed his father, yet he’d never been charged for the crime.

TWO

Carrie’s head throbbed and her mouth felt dry as cotton. Officer Reynolds appeared oblivious of her discomfort and continued to ask questions that seemed to have no bearing on the terrible crime that had happened tonight.

“Has Senator Kingsley had attacks against his person?” he asked. “Or have there been attacks on anyone with whom you work?”

“Not that I know of, but I don’t see how what happens in Washington could have bearing on a soldier’s murder in rural Georgia.”

“Yes, ma’am, but I just want to cover every base.”

“Bases as in baseball, Officer Reynolds, or the investigation?”

He looked peeved, which was exactly how she felt. Peeved and tired and more than a little frightened to think of what had occurred just outside her window while she slept. She’d never expected following the trail to her estranged father would hurl her into a murder investigation.

If she wasn’t so confused, she would cry, but that wouldn’t solve the problem at hand, namely to answer the officer’s questions. Plus, she didn’t want to appear weak. She’d been living alone long enough to know she had to rely on her own wherewithal. A lesson that had been one of the few good things she’d learned from her mother.

Not what she wanted to bring the memory of her deceased mother into the upheaval tonight.

“I’m sorry,” Carrie said with a sigh. “My rudeness was uncalled for, to say the least.”

“I know this must be hard for you, ma’am, but if you can endure a few more questions.”

Which she did until her head felt as if it were ready to explode. She glanced at the leather-bound Bible on the side table, the stack of devotionals and religious texts on a nearby shelf and a plaque that read As for Me and My House, We Will Serve the Lord. All of which made her wonder if she had stumbled into the wrong house. How could she be so closely related to a man she didn’t even know?

Exhausted and exasperated, she finally held up both hands as if in submission. “If you don’t mind, I need a glass of water.”

“Certainly. Why don’t we take a break?” Officer Reynolds acted as if pausing had been his idea. “Officer Phillips will probably want to talk to you later.”

She sighed. “I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll pass that on, but I’m fairly confident he’ll have additional questions.”

“Of course, he will.” She stood, her gaze flicking to the man in the foyer wearing the navy jacket. He and Officer Inman were whispering as if they were talking about her.

Turning back to Reynolds, she asked, “May I bring you something? Water? Coffee?”

“No, thank you, ma’am. I’m fine.” He closed his notebook and pointed to the door. “I’ll step outside for a bit while you relax.”

As if she could with so many police officers swarming over her father’s property. Hurrying into the kitchen, she ran water in a tall glass and drank greedily, hoping to slake her thirst as well as the headache. She arched her shoulders to ease the tension climbing up her neck and glanced out the window at the neighboring brick ranch.

George Gates, her father’s lawyer, had mentioned the army man who lived next door. She’d seen him come home earlier, when she fixed a cup of tea and nibbled on the chicken salad croissant the lawyer had been kind enough to have waiting in the fridge for her.

Tall and well built with short dark hair and a thick neck, the neighbor had US Army written all over him. Hard to mistake a guy who looked that all-American. She hadn’t expected to see him walking across the front lawn earlier in his CID windbreaker. Now he was waiting for her in the foyer.

Did he even have jurisdiction this far from post? As much as she didn’t want to answer any more questions, she didn’t have a choice. Placing the glass on the counter with a sigh, she then returned to the living room.

Reynolds and Inman had left the house, leaving the younger cop guarding the door and the army guy standing in the entryway. She extended her hand and walked to meet him. “Carolyn York. My friends call me Carrie.”

“Tyler Zimmerman. I’m a special agent with the Criminal Investigation Division at Fort Rickman. The CID is involved because the victim was military.”

His handshake was firm and confident.

“Fort Rickman is where my father was last stationed,” she stated in case he wasn’t aware of her father’s military past.

“Yes, ma’am. I understand you just arrived in Freemont.”

She nodded. “A little before five and in time to talk to my father’s lawyer briefly. Mr. Gates asked me to return to his office in the morning to discuss my father’s estate, but—” She spread her hands and looked out the window. “I’m not sure if everything will settle down by then.”

“I understand your concern, Ms. York.”

She tried to smile. “Carrie, please. Since we’re neighbors.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

Had she revealed too much? “The lawyer mentioned that someone from the CID was my father’s neighbor,” she quickly explained. “I put two and two together. You do live next door?”

“That’s correct.” He motioned toward the living room. “Shall we sit down? I know you’ve answered a lot of questions already, but I’d like to hear your take on what happened.”

She settled onto the couch while he pulled a straight-back chair close. Mr. Zimmerman seemed to be a man of few words with no interest in social niceties that could take the edge off the tension hovering in the air. She wouldn’t make another mistake by trying to be neighborly.

As much as she struggled to remain stoic, a picture of what she’d seen played through her mind again.

The gaping wound, the bloody ground—

She dropped her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, but I...I can’t get the image—”

“The man in the field?” the special agent filled in.

Pulling in a ragged breath, she glanced up and nodded. “The memory keeps flashing through my mind.”

“Which is understandable.” He hesitated a long moment, before asking, “What alerted you to go outside, ma’am?”

“It was Bailey.” The dog lay by the chair where she had sat earlier. Hearing his name, he trotted to her side.

“I had let him out a little before midnight,” she explained. “When he hadn’t returned, I must have fallen back to sleep.”

She rubbed the dog’s neck, finding comfort in his nearness. “At some point, Bailey started barking. I went outside to get him, thinking he’d found an animal.”

Mentally she retraced her steps, seeing again the mound that had turned into a man. “I never expected to find a dead body.”

“Did you see anyone else or hear anything?”

“Footsteps behind me when I ran back to the house. I locked the door and called 911.”

“After you made the call, did you hear or see anyone outside?”

“No, and I was too afraid to pull back the curtain. The only sounds were the sirens.”

“Could you describe what you saw when you discovered the victim?”

“Blood, a military uniform, boots. At first, I thought he might have tripped and fallen. When I saw his face, I...I knew he...he was dead.” Her hand touched her throat in the exact place the soldier’s had been cut. “The wound was—”

She dropped her hand into her lap and worried her fingers. “I can’t describe it.”

“But you saw no one the entire time you were outside the house.”

“That’s correct.”

“How did you learn of your father’s death, Ms. York?”

“George Gates called five days ago with the news. That’s when I learned Sergeant Major Harris was my father.”

The agent glanced up from his notes. “Sorry?”

“I thought my father had died soon after I was born.”

“Why did you think that?”

“My parents weren’t married. My mother evidently fabricated a version of what had happened.”

“She told you he had died?”

“That’s correct. In a covert black ops mission.”

The special agent narrowed his gaze. “And you believed her?”

Carrie bristled. “Don’t children usually believe their mothers?”

A swath of color reddened his cheek as if he were embarrassed by his lack of sensitivity. “So you grew up not knowing Sergeant Major Harris was your father?”

“My mother told me my father’s last name was Harrison, probably to keep me from learning the truth. I searched through military channels when I was in college, but the army disavowed having a record of a Jeffrey Harrison from Radcliff, Kentucky.” She glanced up at the tall ceiling and crown molding, thinking of the lie her mother had perpetuated for too many years. Lowering her gaze, she focused on the photo of a muscular man in uniform. The name tag on his chest read Harris. “Now I find out my father lived in Georgia.”

“What did your mother say after Mr. Gates notified you of the sergeant major’s death?”

“My mother died three years ago of a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

Carrie had grieved deeply for her mother, but she wasn’t sure how she felt now. After the phone call from Gates, she’d been numb and confused. Since then, the word betrayal had come to mind, although she knew her mother wasn’t totally to blame for the disinformation she had passed on to Carrie. Surely the sergeant major bore some of the guilt, as well.

She hugged her arms, suddenly cold and overcome with fatigue. Once again, the line of questioning seemed to have digressed off track.

“Mr. Zimmerman,” she said with a sigh. “I have no idea what is going on here. My father supposedly died from an accidental fall ten days ago. Finding another military man dead on his property tonight has me wondering if something suspect could be underfoot.”

The agent leaned in closer. “Like what?”

She shrugged. “You tell me. Was my father involved in some nefarious or illegal operation?”

“Do you think he was?”

“I have no idea. According to his lawyer, Jeffrey Harris stipulated in his will that I was not to be notified of his death until after his burial. Mr. Gates presumed that my father didn’t want me to feel coerced to attend his funeral. I must admit that I question my father’s logic. It seems strange that he would be considerate of a daughter he’d never tried to contact.”

Giving voice to what troubled her the most about her father brought even more unease to her already-troubled heart. Why hadn’t her father wanted a relationship with his only child?

She glanced at the fireplace with its wide hearth and sturdy oak mantel and shook her head to ward off the hot tears that burned her eyes. She usually could control her emotions. Tonight was different. More than anything, she didn’t want to seem needy in front of the agent with the penetrating eyes and questioning gaze. “I feel like I’m drowning, as you might imagine. No buoy or life preserver in sight.”

“Ms. York...uh, Carrie, I’m sure things will sort themselves out over the next few days. How long do you plan to stay in Freemont?”

“I’m not sure. Mr. Gates mentioned that someone is interested in buying the property. He encouraged me to sell, and initially, I had planned to put the house on the market as soon as possible.”

“And now?” the CID agent asked.

“Now I’m not sure.”

“Then you plan to stay?”

“No.” She didn’t know what she planned to do. “I have a job in DC, but I can work here for a period of time. I’m sure the police won’t want me to leave the area.”

“Not until the investigation is over,” he confirmed.

“Then that settles the problem. I’m forced to stay, although I’m concerned about safety issues with a man dead in the backyard. Still, I’ll remain here, at least until the ceremony downtown.”

“I’m unaware of any ceremony.”

“Honoring veterans from the local area. Mr. Gates said a plaque with my father’s name and years in service will be added to the War Memorial and unveiled at the end of the month. I’ll stay until then.”

“And if the investigation is still ongoing?”

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Eventually I’ll have to return to my job.”

“You work for Drake Kingsley?”

“That’s right. I’m his speechwriter.”

“Do you believe everything you write in his speeches?”

The personal nature of the question surprised her as much as the sudden hard edge to his voice.

Any residual tears instantly dried. “What does that mean?”

“He’s not a friend of the military.”

“Senator Kingsley is a good man.” With a big heart, she almost added.

“If that’s what you believe, then he’s got you fooled.”

The door opened, and Inman stepped into the foyer. “Officer Phillips needs to see you, sir.”

The special agent pushed out of the chair and stood. “Excuse me, ma’am. I have work to do.”

He turned on his heel and followed Inman outside, leaving her alone, except for Bailey and the young cop who stood guard at the door.

Recalling the special agent’s curt tone and abrasive comment, she felt her heart pounding. The senator had been like a father to her over the past eighteen months that she’d worked for him. Demanding at times, but he was also generous with his praise, and her writing had improved under his tutelage.

Why would Special Agent Zimmerman be so antagonistic toward a noted public servant who played such an important role in her life? The senator had changed a few of her speeches over the months to tone down her exuberant support for the military. She had never purposefully maligned anyone in uniform, nor would she ever do so. The special agent didn’t understand that she was a paid employee on Kingsley’s staff and had to comply with his requests in regard to his talks.

Evidently Mr. Zimmerman was unaware of the number of people Carrie admired, all dedicated men and women who were serving in the military. She—and indeed, the entire nation—was indebted to their sacrifice.

Admittedly Senator Kingsley had been somewhat vocal in his disregard of those in uniform in private settings, and she had heard him say that the military wasn’t to be trusted, but that was the senator’s belief and not hers.

Unlike Kingsley, she was wholeheartedly pro-military.

Except she did wonder about the special agent neighbor. Not because he was in the army, but because he lived next to a murder scene and had so quickly appeared on site. Was it purely coincidental?

Carrie needed to be careful until she knew if the CID agent was trustworthy or someone to watch.

* * *

Tyler left the house and descended the porch steps to where Officer Phillips stood on the sidewalk, cell phone at his ear. Disconnecting, the cop acknowledged Tyler with a nod.

“The victim’s wallet confirmed Fellows’s name and provided an address.” Phillips pointed into the wooded area behind the Harris home. “A dirt road winds along the rear of the property. The sergeant major kept a trailer in the woods and rented it out. Fellows was his latest tenant. Some of my guys are there now looking for anything that can shed light on his murder.”

Tyler glanced back at the house. “I wonder if Ms. York was aware of the trailer. She plans to talk to her father’s lawyer in the morning.”

“George Gates?” Phillips asked.

“You know him?”

“I know of him,” the cop acknowledged. “His office is just off the square. He’s well thought of in town. Has a pretty wife, a couple kids. The wife is some kind of designer. Works with Realtors by staging the homes that are on the market. All high-end properties.”

“Thanks for the information,” Tyler said. “I’ll pay him a visit in the morning.”

“Doubt he’ll provide anything new.” Phillips smirked. “You know lawyers and client privilege.”

“You’re saying Harris had something to hide?”

“I’m saying you never know about neighbors.” Phillips made a clucking sound as he stared into the wooded area before turning back to Tyler. “Did you ever see Fellows hovering around Harris’s property?”

“Never. But then I’ve haven’t been in Georgia long.”

“Where were you stationed before Rickman?”

“Germany for three years. A little town called Vilseck.”

“Near the Grafenwohr training area.”

Surprised that Phillips knew of Grafenwohr, Tyler smiled. “You’re prior military?”

“Roger that.” The cop chuckled. “I enlisted after high school.”

Tyler liked Phillips. Knowing he had served elevated him in Tyler’s opinion even more. “Thanks for your service.”

“My contribution was insignificant compared to most. Present company included.”

Tyler appreciated the comment. At least Phillips would understand the role the CID could play in the investigation.

“With the army’s concern about fraternization between the ranks, something seems strange to me,” Phillips said as he pocketed his cell. “Why would a sergeant major rent his trailer to some young soldier?”

“Harris was retired, and even if he had been on active duty, it wouldn’t have been a problem if they were from different units. The sergeant major probably advertised on-post. Fellows may have been a country boy. Liked the outdoors and wanted to move out of the barracks.”

The cop rubbed his jaw. “Maybe, although I wonder if anything else was afoot.”

“I’ll talk to his first sergeant and the other soldiers in his platoon,” Tyler said. “They might provide a better picture of who Fellows was.”

Phillips nodded. “And why someone wanted to kill him.”

“What about questioning the neighbors?” Tyler asked.

“I’ve got a couple officers checking the folks who live nearby. I’m not sure how cooperative the Amish will be. They’re good people, but they stick to themselves.”

Tyler glanced at where the body was found. “The killer could have skirted Amish Road, by using the dirt road you mentioned. If he paid Fellows a late-night visit, they could have argued and gotten into a fight. Fellows might have run this direction to get away from the assailant. The killer follows and attacks after Fellows stumbled into the clearing.”

“Did you hear anything unusual?”

Tyler shook his head. “Not a peep.”

“Something must have alerted Ms. York.”

“She said her father’s dog found the body and started barking.”

Phillips pursed his lips. “Might seem like a stretch, but I wonder if she could be involved.”

Tyler hadn’t expected the comment, but as any law enforcement officer knew, no one could be ruled out at this point.

The cop slapped Ty’s shoulder. “My turn to talk to her.”

Tyler pulled out his phone as the officer climbed the steps and opened the door. Carrie stood in the foyer and glanced around Phillips to where Tyler lingered at the bottom of the steps. She tilted her head ever so slightly as if questioning why he was still hanging around outside. The door closed, leaving Tyler with a strange sense of being shut out.

He had allowed his emotions to get the best of him when he questioned her. A mistake he shouldn’t have made and wouldn’t make again. Still, he hadn’t expected an investigation in Georgia to open a painful memory from his past.

Pulling up his phone contacts, he tapped the number for the CID special agent on call. Everett Kohl’s voice was heavy with sleep when he answered. “What’s going on, Ty?”

“A soldier was murdered along Amish Road.”

“Fill me in on the details.”

Tyler shared what he knew about the case.

Once he had finished providing information, Everett asked, “Want me to notify the post duty officer? He’ll inform General Cameron. The commanding general needs to know what happened.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“Any witnesses?” Everett inquired.

“Not at this point. The sergeant major’s daughter arrived in town late in the day. She knew nothing about her father until his lawyer called informing her of the property she had inherited.”

“Welcome to Freemont.”

“You’ve probably heard of Drake Kingsley, the senator from Ohio?” A ball of bile rose in Ty’s throat. Not that he would share his past with Everett.

“As I recall, the senator’s not enamored with the military.”

“You’re exactly right.” Tyler paused for a moment before continuing. “Kingsley is talking about the need to slash the defense budget even more than last year. He was also instrumental in convincing the president to cut troop strength.”

“What’s the connection with this case?”

“Carolyn York, the woman who found the body, works as a speechwriter for Senator Kingsley.”

Everett groaned. “She could be as vocal as her boss. We don’t need any more bad press or do-gooders from Washington interfering with our investigation.”

Tyler understood bad press. He also understood Everett’s concern. Budget cuts and troop reduction had decimated the army. Combat readiness was a thing of the past.

“How’d you get involved, Ty?”

“I heard the sirens. Came to see what was going down and found out the deceased was military, assigned to the engineer battalion.”

“That’s interesting.”

“In what way?” Tyler asked.

“Let me check the post paper. Seems I read the sergeant major’s obit not long ago.”

Tyler waited until Everett came back on the line.

“Here it is. ‘Sergeant Major Jeffrey Harris, recently retired from the US Army.’ This is the part that’s of interest. ‘His last duty station was Fort Rickman, where Harris was the command sergeant major of the engineer battalion.’”

“So he and Fellows could have served together, depending upon how long ago the corporal transferred to the battalion.”

“Doubtful the sergeant major would rent a trailer to someone in the same unit, unless they had some prior connection.” Everett voiced the same concern as Phillips had earlier. “Having a superior as a landlord could be seen as a conflict of interest.”

“Something to consider.”

Ty looked back at the Harris home. Carrie’s arrival the night Fellows died could also be significant.

“This case could explode in our faces,” Everett continued. “Especially since the woman has ties to Washington. I’ll confirm with Wilson tomorrow to ensure that the boss is in agreement, but the way I see it, you’ll need to keep tabs on Ms. York. Two folks have died on that property in less than two weeks. Keep her safe and as happy as can be expected under the circumstances. I’ll let you know any information we find out about Fellows.”

Everett was right. Tyler needed to keep an eye on his neighbor and see what he could learn about the estranged daughter and the young soldier who had died on her father’s property. Maybe the pretty newcomer to Freemont knew more about her father than she was willing to admit.

THREE

The first light of dawn glowed on the horizon as the Freemont police climbed into their squad cars. Phillips stood next to Tyler, watching their departure.

“Our crime scene folks will expand their search over the entire field,” Phillips said. “So far they haven’t found anything that seems to have bearing. I’m hoping Forensics might provide more information. I’ll let you know what we uncover.”

“Earlier you mentioned that the sergeant major’s body was discovered in the woods,” Tyler said. “Do you know who found him?”

“Inman handled the call, but if my memory is correct, an Amish teenager took a shortcut through the property and stumbled across the remains.”

“Was there anything suspect about Harris’s death?”

Phillips shook his head. “Nothing that seemed questionable at the time.”

“Might be worth reviewing the report,” Tyler suggested.

“I’ll do that. And I’ll talk to Inman.”

Tyler glanced at the lights glowing in the downstairs windows of the stately home. “Are any of your people still inside the house?”

“One of our rookies.”

“I’ll tell him you’re wrapping up.” Tyler hustled up the porch steps and rapped lightly on the door. The young cop he’d seen earlier answered his knock. Tyler stepped inside and repeated the message from Phillips. The officer hurriedly left the house and climbed into one of the squad cars.

Footsteps sounded from the kitchen.

“Ms. York?” Tyler called from the foyer.

She stepped into the hallway. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “Agent Zimmerman, I didn’t expect to see you again. Do you have more questions?”

“No, ma’am, but I wanted to apologize for my comments.”

“Which comments are you referring to?” She squared her shoulders in a defensive gesture he had half expected after his earlier outburst.

“My comments about Senator Kingsley.” Not that they weren’t true. Still, he hated hearing the cool aloofness in her voice.

She stepped closer. “Evidently I said something wrong, something that upset you. Let me assure you that I’m not the senator.”

He pointed a finger back at himself. “I in no way thought you were.”

“Nor do I put words in his mouth.”

“Actually...” Tyler hesitated. “If you write his speeches, that’s exactly what you do.”

She frowned.

He wasn’t making points.

“Senator Kingsley is quite explicit on what he wants covered in each speech,” she said with an icy stare. “His policies are exactly that—his policies. They reflect his opinions and what he believes to be true and do not reflect the way I think or feel.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I admire all who defend our nation, Agent Zimmerman. They sacrifice greatly. Many give their lives for our security. I am indebted to their service, as the entire nation should be.”

“Then we see eye-to-eye on that point, but I still hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“Of course.”

He handed her his business card. “Some of the crime scene personnel will remain on-site for a while. I’m heading to post. My phone will be on if you think of anything else.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“Yes, ma’am, but I’m sure you’re anxious and concerned. Keep your doors and windows locked. Be alert to any danger.”

Her stiffness crumbled. She drew her hand to her neck. “Y-you’re worrying me.”

Which he hadn’t intended to do. “I just want to ensure that you use caution.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

When he’d entered the house the first time, his focus was on the murdered soldier and on finding information. Now that the immediate urgency was over, he paused to glance at the expansive living area with two brick fireplaces, tall ceilings and hand-hewn hardwood floors.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“My father’s home,” she corrected. “I still feel like an outsider.”

“In time, that should change.”

Her face softened for a moment, exposing a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. Then she pulled in a quick breath and returned to her former polite, but somewhat perturbed, self.

“I hope the investigation is wrapped up quickly, Agent Zimmerman.”

“It will be.” Tyler sounded more optimistic than he felt. “My cell’s always on. You can call me if you hear anything worrisome. I’m home most nights by seven.”

“Bailey’s a good watchdog.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Tyler started for the door.

A phone rang. Carrie reached for her cell and checked the caller identification. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s the senator’s office.”

“You notified Washington?”

She quirked her brow. “Did you want me to keep the soldier’s death secret?”

“Of course not.” He opened the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

He hurried off the porch and started across the front lawn on his way home. Phillips waved from his sedan as he and Inman pulled onto Amish Road and headed back to town.

Tyler needed coffee and a shower before he drove to post, but he couldn’t get past the churning in his gut, knowing Carrie York was on the phone to DC.

This case came with baggage. Not what he needed or wanted. He had to focus on the investigation instead of getting into a war of words with the senator’s speechwriter whose arrival in Freemont felt suspect.

Was Carrie York an innocent bystander? Or was she somehow involved in the soldier’s death?

* * *

After the congestion and traffic in DC, driving along the gentle, rolling hills and fertile farmland was a refreshing change of pace for Carrie. Some of the anxiety she’d felt through the night had ebbed by the time she arrived downtown.

She parked her car behind the lawyer’s office and hurried inside. George Gates had been nice enough yesterday when he gave her the keys to her father’s house as well as the information about Bailey and the kennel where the dog had been boarded. Everything had seemed like a dream, especially when she realized the huge white home with Greek columns had belonged to her father.

Thankfully the dog’s frisky playfulness and demand for attention had filled the expansive house with activity that added warmth and welcome to what could have been a difficult homecoming. She and Bailey had quickly become fast friends, and she was grateful for his attention. The pup had stayed close by her side, until he’d whined to go out shortly after midnight.

All too soon, the initial charm of the historic home had been marred by the discovery of Corporal Fellows’s body. She hoped the lawyer would provide some clue to the soldier’s death, which was the first question she asked George Gates once they’d exchanged pleasantries and she’d taken a seat in the chair across from his desk.

The lawyer was midforties, with whitened teeth, bushy eyebrows and a ruddy complexion that made her wonder if he frequented a tanning salon.

“I heard something had happened along Amish Road,” he said, his voice somber. “Although I wasn’t sure if the information I received was accurate. So you’re saying a soldier was killed behind Jeff’s house?”

“In the open field but close to the woods. As you can imagine, I’m upset and confused. Is there something you failed to tell me about my father?”

Surprise registered on his puffy face. “Surely you’re not implying your father was involved in anything that would lead to a soldier’s death.”

“You tell me.”

“Jeff was a good man, Carrie. He did a lot for Freemont and was well respected. The Harris family has been a part of this town’s history since the early 1800s. Your father inherited the house and property from his maiden aunt some years back. He worked hard to restore the home to its former beauty, and since then, he’s been a pillar of the town.”

“Pillars can crumble.”

He laughed off the comment. “I told you someone has expressed an interest in buying the property. It’s something to consider. You’re probably eager to return to Washington. I can handle the paperwork and expedite the sale.”

She held up her hand. “It’s too soon, George. I’m not ready to sell.”

“You’re upset, no doubt, about what happened last night. Take a few days to think it over. I’m sure the offer will please you.”

“I came here today to find out more about my father’s estate and especially his property. You didn’t mention the trailer he rented.”

“My mistake. You were tired yesterday. I hesitated taking up more of your time.”

He taped a manila envelope on his desk. “A plat of the property is inside. Your father owned a hundred and twenty acres and the house. He rented out a trailer, usually to one of the soldiers from post. Almost half of his land is prime farmland. The rest is wooded.”

“And you have an interested buyer for both the land and the house?”

“That’s correct.”

“Can you assure me the property won’t be cut up for development?”

“I’m not sure what the buyer’s plan would be, but it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with at this point.”

She leaned closer. “But it is my concern, George. I don’t want to disrupt the beauty of the Amish community.”

“Yes, of course. I understand.”

Did he? Carrie wasn’t sure about George Gates or his too-accommodating responses.

By the time she shook his hand in farewell, she had even more questions about her father, his past and her future.

Leaving the office, she hurried to her car and clicked the remote opener. Before she reached for the door handle, someone called her name. Turning, she spied Tyler Zimmerman climbing from a car parked on the opposite side of the lot.

In the light of day, he looked even taller and more muscular. Maybe it was the navy slacks and tweed sports coat he wore. For a moment she wondered why he wasn’t in military uniform before recalling that CID agents wore civilian attire when working on a case. She’d stumbled upon the information while researching a speech for Senator Kingsley. Something about not wanting rank to interfere with their investigation.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said in greeting.

He smiled as he neared. “I wanted to talk to Mr. Gates.”

“You need a lawyer?”

His eyes twinkled, making him appear even more handsome.

“I want to talk to Mr. Gates about your father’s rental property,” he explained. “And see if he can provide information about your dad’s relationship with Corporal Fellows.”

When she didn’t respond, he added, “I’m just gathering information, Ms. York.”

“Carrie, please.”

He smiled again.

Her heart skittered in her chest, making her feel like an adolescent schoolgirl. Too young and too foolish. Needing to shield herself from his charm, she clutched the manila envelope close as if it could offer protection.

He cocked his head. “What are you up to today?”

She tried to sound nonchalant. “In search of a grocery store.”

“There’s one on the way out of town. Turn left at Harvest Road. The supermarket’s two blocks down on the left.”

“Thanks.” She opened her car door and slipped behind the wheel. “Good seeing you, Tyler.”

Leaving the lot, she glanced back as the special agent opened the door to Gates Law Firm and stepped inside. Rounding the corner, she passed an Amish teenager who watched her turn right. Seeing the special agent had put her on edge. The pensive stare of the Amish boy added to her unease.

After a quick stop at the grocery store, she drove out of town, heading back to her father’s house. Even the pretty countryside couldn’t lessen her anxiety. In the distance, dark clouds filled the sky. Her heart felt as heavy as the thick cloud cover.

If only she could go back to the stories her mother had told her about the handsome army man who had swept her mother off her feet. They’d been young and in love and...well, things happened, including babies, or so she had explained when Carrie was old enough to learn the truth.

Only part of it had been a lie.

Her father hadn’t died in a covert black ops mission as her mother had led her to believe. He wasn’t part of the military’s elite Delta Force, and the army hadn’t covered up his death and withheld information from the grieving girlfriend who was pregnant with his child.

Now Carrie knew the truth, but counter to what scripture said, it hadn’t set her free. Instead she felt tied in knots and suddenly connected to a man and a past she didn’t understand, which only confirmed her upset with God. Why would He turn His back on a woman who always longed for a father’s love? Evidently she and her problems didn’t carry weight.

The special agent only confused her more. He’d been civil enough today, and his smile had seemed sincere, yet she had to be careful and cautious, especially after his antagonistic comments last night.

Carrie glanced again at the sky and turned on the windshield wipers as the first drops of rain began to fall. A road sign warned of a sharp curve ahead. She lifted her foot from the accelerator and placed both hands on the wheel as the car entered the turn.

A bolt of lightning cut through the dark clouds, followed by a clash of thunder that made her flinch. The tires lost traction for a heartbeat on the slick roadway. She turned the wheel to the right and tapped the brake, relieved when the car responded.

Coming around the curve, she glanced ahead and gasped. A semi-trailer was bearing down on her, going much too fast. Heart in her throat, she intensified her hold on the steering wheel, feeling the pull as the truck flew past with less than an inch to spare.

Too close.

Clunk-clunk-clunk.

Startled by the sound, she gripped the wheel even more tightly. The car shimmied, then jolted as the rear left side dropped. She glanced back, seeing a tire roll across the roadway.

A grating sound. Metal dragging against pavement. Her heart raced. The car veered left, crossed the center line and crashed into the ditch that edged the roadway.

Rain pelted the windshield. She struggled to free herself and clawed at the door, unable to push it open.

“Help!” she cried, knowing no one would hear her.

“Carrie!”

She turned, seeing Tyler.

He grabbed the door handle and ripped it open. Reaching around her, he unbuckled her seat belt. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. He pulled her free.

Rain pummeled her face as she looked into eyes filled with concern.

“Where are you hurt?” He touched her arms, the back of her neck and head as if searching for an injury. “Talk to me.”

She swallowed down the fear and nodded. “I...I’m okay. How—”

“I was driving home and saw your car enter the turn. A semi passed. Then I saw you in the ditch. Did you get sideswiped?”

She shook her head. “The tire came off.”

“What?”

He turned to study her car, then glanced back to where the wheel lay on the edge of the roadway. Retrieving the tire, he pried off the hubcap. “Three of your lug nuts are missing. Have you gone to a mechanic recently?”

“I had my oil changed before I made the trip to Georgia.”

“This just happened. Since you last drove the car.”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“In town. While you were talking to Gates. Someone removed three of your lug nuts.”

Her ears roared, and she shivered in the chilly rain.

“Someone tampered with your wheel, Carrie,” he repeated, his voice deathly calm. “They wanted the tire to fall off.”

“But why?”

“Two reasons come to mind. Either to scare you—”

Her heart quickened.

“Or to do you harm.”

FOUR

The police sedan’s flashing lights drove home the seriousness of what had happened. Tyler glanced at his own car where Carrie sat, protected from the stiff breeze that had picked up once the rain eased.

“You must be working the twenty-four-hour shift,” Ty said when Officer Steve Inman climbed from his patrol car.

Ignoring the dampness, the officer smiled. “You and Ms. York are keeping me busy.”

Much to Tyler’s frustration, Carrie left the warmth of his car and hurried to join them at the side of the road.

“Ma’am.” Officer Inman nodded a greeting. “You mind telling me what happened?”

She quickly filled him in on losing control of the car and the missing lug nuts.

“Any chance your folks can dust the hubcap for prints?” Tyler asked. “You’ll find mine, for sure, and the last mechanic who checked the tire.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Inman pulled a notebook from his pocket. “So you think the lug nuts were purposely removed.”

Tyler nodded. “I’m guessing when Ms. York was in town.”

“I made two stops,” she added. “The Gates Law Firm and the supermarket on Harvest Road.”

Inman made note of the information. “I’ll see if we have video cameras in either area that might have picked up activity.”

“You’ll let me know what you uncover,” Carrie insisted.

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Tyler. “You were following Ms. York home?”

“I had talked briefly with George Gates and ended up not too far behind her car, which was fortunate.”

“Ma’am, did you see anyone behind you when you drove to town this morning?” the cop asked.

Carrie shook her head. “No one.”

Inman turned to Tyler. “What about you, sir?”

“Negative. But I left my house early and went to post first so I could brief Chief Wilson, the head of the CID, on Corporal Fellows’s murder. General Cameron has been informed, as well.”

“He’s the post commanding general?”

“That’s right. As you can imagine, the general’s upset about the corporal’s death and has given us free rein to support you in any way we can.”

“I’ll pass that on. The chief of police is out of town, so Phillips is in charge. Last I heard, he contacted the Georgia Bureau of Investigation to rush the forensics on the case. Freemont is indebted to the military. We’ll do everything we can to bring Corporal Fellows’s killer to justice.”

All of them turned at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Earl’s Tow Service was painted on the side of the tow truck that pulled to a stop. A man hopped to the pavement.

“Craig Owens.” The driver provided his name as he approached the threesome. “Special Agent Zimmerman?”

Tyler nodded. “That’s right. I talked to Earl.”

He pointed to Carrie’s car, wedged in the ditch. “The vehicle needs to be towed. Earl said he’d order a new rear tire. Tell him to check the underbelly and ensure that nothing else is wrong.”

“Will do.” The driver held up a clipboard. “You mind signing the request for service?”

Tyler passed the clipboard to Carrie. “The car belongs to Ms. York.”

“Do you need payment now?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, just your signature.”

After she’d signed the form, the driver tossed the clipboard into his cab and climbed behind the wheel. He backed to the edge of the ditch and used a winch to hoist the vehicle onto the flatbed.

Once the car was safely locked down, he handed Carrie a business card. “Earl will call you with an estimate if your car needs repair work. As soon as the new tire comes in, he’ll notify you. Appreciate your business.”

Tyler stopped Owens before he climbed into his truck. “Any idea how long a wheel would stay attached with only two lug nuts?”

The tow man scratched his head. “Not long. The tire would start to shimmy and work the remaining lug nuts off in a short time.”

Which was exactly what Tyler thought. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

“We aim to please.”

Inman slipped the notebook into his shirt pocket as the tow truck headed back to town. “I’ll let you folks know if we find any prints.” He rolled the tire to his sedan and placed it in the trunk.

Then turning to Carrie, he added, “I might be jumping to the wrong conclusion, ma’am, but it looks like someone’s not happy that you’re in Freemont.”

Tyler had to agree.

“Lock your doors and windows. Call my number or Special Agent Zimmerman if you feel threatened in any way or if anything else happens.”

“Good advice,” Tyler said to Carrie. “We’re both worried about your safety.”

“Use caution, ma’am,” Owens continued. “As I said before, seems someone wants to do you harm.”

Her face twisted with concern. “But why?”

The cop pursed his lips. “No clue, except it might tie in with the soldier’s death.”

“Or my father’s,” she added.

Tyler needed to learn more about the sergeant major. He wouldn’t give voice to his suspicions, because it would upset Carrie even more, but just as she had mentioned earlier, her father could have been involved in something illegal that could play in to the corporal’s death and have bearing on her accident today.

Inman nodded to Carrie and slapped Tyler’s arm before he slid behind the wheel of his police sedan.

After ushering Carrie to his car, Tyler held the door for her as she settled onto the passenger seat. “I’m grateful Officer Inman responded to the call,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s side. “Someone without knowledge of what happened last night might not see the significance of the accident.”

Her face was drawn and her eyes reflected both fatigue and worry. “How would someone know where I was or which car in the lot was mine?”

“Your out-of-state tags would be easy to spot. Information travels fast in small towns. No telling who knew you planned to visit George Gates.”

She shook her head. “But I didn’t have an appointment.”

“You told him yesterday that you would return in the morning.”

“What if losing the tire was just a random act?”

Tyler sighed. “Having three lug nuts go missing is more than happenstance, Carrie.”

“Then either someone’s trying to scare me off, or it involves Corporal Fellows, as Officer Inman mentioned.”

When Tyler failed to reply, she turned her gaze to the road. “Whatever the reason, the person responsible doesn’t understand my determination to learn more about my father.”

“Might be a good idea to program my cell number into your phone, Carrie.”

“I already have.”

They drove in silence until Tyler turned into the Harris driveway and parked at the side of the antebellum home. He glanced at the barn and the small chicken coop at the rear, seeing movement. His neck tingled a warning.

“Looks like someone’s prowling around your property, Carrie. Stay here until I give you the all clear.”

Before she could object, he slipped from the car and cautiously approached the barn, keeping his right hand close to the weapon on his hip. He stopped at the corner and watched as a man peered over the top of the coop.

“You’re trespassing.” Tyler raised his voice. “Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly.”

The man complied without hesitation. Only he wasn’t much over fifteen, with a shaggy haircut, suspenders and black pants. A hat lay on the ground, along with a bucket half filled with what looked like chicken feed.

“State your name and the reason you’re on the Harris property.”

“Eli Plank.”

His clothing identified him as Amish. “Isaac Lapp asked me to feed the chickens while he and his family are out of town.” The kid blinked. “I have done nothing wrong.”

Tyler realized his mistake. “You can put your hands down, Eli. I didn’t know anyone was helping out.”

The boy lowered his arms. “Isaac has been caring for the chickens since Mr. Harris died. He asked me to lend a hand so he and his wife and Joseph could visit the boy’s Grossdaadi. His grandfather.”

“Where do you live?”

He pointed south. “The next farm. You know my Datt?”

Tyler shook his head. “I’ve seen him working in the fields, but we haven’t met.”

“Tyler?”

Hearing Carrie’s voice, Tyler peered around the barn. She was walking toward them.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine.” He introduced Carrie to the Amish boy and explained the reason Eli was on the property.

“Thank you for taking care of the chickens.” Carrie opened her purse. “I’d like to pay you.”

The boy shook his head. “I was helping Isaac. That needs no payment, but I must go home now.” After returning the unused feed in the barn, Eli waved goodbye and hurried across the road.

“I don’t think Eli is anyone to fear.” Carrie watched as the boy approached the two-story farmhouse visible in the distance.

“Probably not, in fact, it’s doubtful any of the Amish are involved, but you never know. Remember Corporal Fellows was a neighbor.”

She tilted her head. “You’re a neighbor too.”

He nodded. “The difference is that you can trust me. I’m going back to post this afternoon to talk to Corporal Fellows’s first sergeant. He worked in the same unit as your father. If you want to join me, I’d be happy to show you around Fort Rickman.”

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “What time?”

Tyler glanced at his watch. “After lunch. Say one o’clock.”

“I’ll be ready.”

* * *

Ty pulled his SUV to a stop in front of the large white home with the tall columns and yesteryear appeal. He stepped onto the driveway, rounded the car and climbed the porch. The front door opened before he had time to knock.

Carrie stood in the doorway, looking far too pretty in a flowing skirt and matching sweater. She had changed out of the rain-damp clothes she’d worn this morning. With a nod of greeting, she grabbed a jacket from the rack in the foyer and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her.

He reached for the coat and helped her slip it on. “The sun’s out, but it’s still chilly and damp.”

“Thanks.”

He pointed to the door. “It’s locked, right?”

She nodded, then dug for keys in her purse. “But I’ll engage the dead bolt.” Flicking a worried glance at him, she added, “Just in case.”

“That’s right.” Ty didn’t want to belabor the point, but he was relieved that she understood the need for caution.

“Do you think Corporal Fellows’s uniform may have made him a target?” she asked.

“You’re concerned terrorism might have been involved?”

“Probably a long shot, but Senator Kingsley talks about some of the groups in the Middle East targeting young men and some women here in the States. Homegrown terrorism, lone wolf, whatever you want to call it, he believes we’re going to see more acts of aggression and violence in the days to come.”

Although Tyler hated to agree with the senator, he knew his assessment was right.

“I don’t understand,” Carrie continued, “how people can be brainwashed into thinking that killing has a greater good.”

“They’re looking for something to believe in, to give them an identity. A cause bigger than themselves. Without a good foundation of faith and morality, kids can confuse evil for good, especially when the message is coated with affirming rhetoric.”

“Sounds as if you know what you’re talking about.”

He shrugged. “Our military is built on guys who want to do good and fight for a cause bigger than themselves. Thankfully they’ve found what all kids want—a stable foundation.”

“Did you have that growing up?”

He laughed ruefully. “I had a strong-willed father who loved the Lord.”

Tyler hadn’t planned to talk about his childhood.

“I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

He hadn’t expected her comment either. “Maybe he would have been, but he died when I was a kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

Opening the passenger door, he helped her into the seat. Before he slipped behind the wheel, he glanced at the nearby Amish farms and the expansive fields. His own life had been shattered years ago, which was probably why he had been drawn to the serenity of Amish Road. Just as had happened in his youth, death now threatened the peace and well-being of those who lived nearby.

No matter the reason for the crime, the murderer needed to be apprehended sooner rather than later. Otherwise the tranquil countryside would be torn apart, especially if the killer struck again.

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