Amish Refuge
Debby Giusti
HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHTMiriam Miller barely escapes the ruthless attacker that killed her mother and kidnapped her sister. Running deeper into the woods, she's running out of hope....until she falls into the arms of an unlikely bodyguard—a peaceful Amish farmer. Something about Abram Zook inspires her trust, but even in bucolic Willkommen, Georgia, Miriam faces danger. Both from the men pursuing her and from her growing feelings for the caring—though guarded—widower who protects her. Because if she falls for Abram she’ll have to embrace his Amish faith as her own—or lose him. With each minute, her abductor creeps closer, pushing Miriam to an inevitable choice: stay and risk her heart....or leave and risk her life.
HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
Miriam Miller barely escapes the ruthless attacker that killed her mother and kidnapped her sister. Running deeper into the woods, she’s running out of hope...until she falls into the arms of an unlikely bodyguard—a peaceful Amish farmer. Something about Abram Zook inspires her trust, but even in bucolic Willkommen, Georgia, Miriam faces danger. Both from the men pursuing her and from her growing feelings for the caring—though guarded—widower who protects her. Because if she falls for Abram she’ll have to embrace his Amish faith as her own—or lose him. With each minute, her abductor creeps closer, pushing Miriam to an inevitable choice: stay and risk her heart...or leave and risk her life.
She shivered with fear.
Along the bridge, the guardrails had collapsed and the structure appeared rickety. She peered at the water below as the cold seeped through her cape.
She’d been foolish to leave the security of Abram’s home. But she needed to get to a computer.
Above the roar of the water she heard his voice.
“Miriam?”
Abram had come to stop her, yet he wasn’t thinking of her own good—he was thinking of the other woman who’d worn this cape and kapp. His late wife.
“Go home, Abram.”
Wind tore along the river, throwing her off balance, causing her to teeter toward the water. Her fall was aborted only by his strong hands.
“Let me go.”
“No, Miriam. You must come with me.”
“I won’t. You can’t control me.”
“This time you must listen. He is coming for you.”
Dear Reader (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139),
I hope you enjoyed Amish Refuge, the first book in my AMISH PROTECTORS series. Amish widower Abram Zook never expected a battered woman to appear on his front porch in the middle of the night. Especially not an Englisch woman. But Miriam Miller’s car has been hijacked, her mother’s been murdered and her younger sister carted off to who knows where. Miriam needs to hole up and stay safe, and what better place than on an Amish farm.
This story is about forgiveness. If you struggle to let go of a painful past, I hope Abram and Miriam’s journey will touch your heart and bring you to a place of new beginnings. I’m praying for you!
I love to hear from readers. Email me at debby@debbygiusti.com (mailto:debby@debbygiusti.com) or write me c/o Love Inspired, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007. Visit me at www.DebbyGiusti.com (http://www.DebbyGiusti.com) and at www.Facebook.com/debby.giusti.9 (http://www.facebook.com/debby.giusti.9).
As always, I thank God for bringing us together through this story.
Wishing you abundant blessings,
Debby
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 (http://www.debbygiusti.com), blog with her at seekerville.blogspot.com (http://www.seekerville.blogspot.com) and craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com (http://www.craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com), and email her at Debby@DebbyGiusti.com.
Amish Refuge
Debby Giusti
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
O Lord, You have been our refuge through all generations.
—Psalms 90:1
This story is dedicated to my cousins—David, Eric, Sandy and Bill—for the wonderful memories of going home to Ohio.
Contents
Cover (#u30864261-3e01-5d74-9bde-0b9b9a0b1564)
Back Cover Text (#u10940889-9d2b-5e90-aa60-cfbf3a24352a)
Introduction (#ub11c969c-5013-5d25-81fe-ec39eb3e1e0e)
Dear Reader (#uc78e819a-cbd5-525c-8dd2-442521819299)
About the Author (#ue408d7e7-07d5-539b-9925-ec649dffe11f)
Title Page (#u408acb30-6d3a-5071-af14-8931aebd361a)
Bible Verse (#u757a9892-a546-5394-9f5d-219336b8fef5)
Dedication (#u7cdb22e5-1eac-526f-8a4c-bb0d8cd77def)
ONE (#uc69dc717-4347-58a0-9058-a6372350d722)
TWO (#uaa580a84-ab18-5692-9050-0ef6b511255e)
THREE (#u1486c92d-cea3-5027-ad4a-7ae27cc44db1)
FOUR (#u9f1a7331-2a30-5277-b773-f861169f5103)
FIVE (#uadeb56a0-64e0-5bf5-9b9c-37038d50bb57)
SIX (#u188a73a1-f632-55b0-a360-88f008fb0123)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
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TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139)
Serpent would find her and kill her. Tonight.
Miriam Miller woke with a start, chilled to the bone. She rubbed her hands over her arms and blinked against the night air seeping through the broken car window. Tugging her crocheted scarf and threadbare jacket across her chest, she straightened in the driver’s seat and gazed through the windshield.
A police car with lights flashing braked to a stop on the edge of the narrow, two-lane road not more than twenty feet from where she’d parked, hidden by trees and underbrush.
Fear clutched her throat.
The cop—a bull of a man with a heart as dark as the night—stepped to the pavement and played his flashlight over the tall pines. Her pulse pounded and a roar filled her ears. She could envision the serpent tattoo that wrapped around his neck, the snake as heinous as the man.
She had been a fool to think she could elude him by hiding in the woods. Even more of a fool to succumb to the fatigue brought on by the drugs he had used to subdue her.
Fisting her hands, she swallowed the bile that filled her mouth and steeled her spine with resolve. He’d caught her once. He would never capture her again.
She reached for the key in the ignition and held her breath as he pushed aside a tree branch and peered deeper into the woods. With the flick of his wrist, a flash of light caught her in its glare. Just that fast, he was running straight for her.
Before she could start the engine, he opened the driver’s door and yanked her from the car. Screaming, she fell at his feet, crawled away on all fours and struggled to right herself.
He kicked her ribs. Air wheezed from her lungs. He grabbed her hair, turned her to face him and pulled her upright.
She thrashed her arms, kicked her feet then jabbed her fingers deep into his eyes.
He cursed, covered his face with his hands and stumbled backward. “Why you—!”
She lunged for her car.
A bag of craft supplies lay on the floor mat. Frantically she dug for the shears, relieved when her hand gripped the sharp steel.
He struck her shoulder, knocking her off balance. She cried in pain. Another blow, this one to her head.
She tightened her hold on the scissors, raised her hand and stabbed his neck. He groaned, momentarily stunned. She scrambled into her car, slammed and locked the door, and turned the key in the ignition. He grabbed the door handle and banged on the window, his hateful face pushed flat against the cracked glass.
The motor purred to life.
“Thank You,” she silently prayed to a God in whom she’d only started to believe.
Serpent railed in rage.
She jammed the accelerator to the floorboard. Her head flew back as the sudden momentum jerked the car forward, throwing her attacker to the ground.
Her heart pounded nearly out of her chest and her hands shook so hard she could barely steer the car along the narrow path that led back to the pavement. She glanced at her rearview mirror.
Bathed in the red glow of her taillights, Serpent raised his fist, his curse faintly audible even over the hum of her engine.
Her stomach roiled.
She accelerated. The car fishtailed. Blood seeped from the gash to her forehead. She wiped her hand across her brow and blinked back the swell of panic that clamped down on her chest. Her breath caught as she glanced at her speedometer, knowing she was driving much too fast.
Her cell phone, with its dead battery, sat on the console. If she had a car charger, she would call for help. Not the authorities. She couldn’t trust law enforcement, but her older sister, Hannah, would know what to do.
Headlights flashed in her rearview mirror. Her heart stopped. He was following her.
She increased her speed, all too aware of her threadbare tires and the threat of ice on the mountain road. The engine whined as she rounded a turn. Gripping the wheel, white-knuckled, she worked to hold the road.
Pop! The right rear tire deflated.
The blowout caused the car to shimmy across the pavement and career down a steep embankment. In the path of her headlights, she saw the river, edged with ice.
She screamed, anticipating the frigid water. Unable to swim, she’d drown. At the last second the car came to an abrupt halt, mired in mud. Her head hit the steering wheel. She moaned and blinked back the darkness that swirled around her.
A warning welled up from deep within her.
Run!
Dazed, she grabbed her phone, crawled from the car and staggered into the woods. Pushing through brambles, she ignored the sharp thorns that scraped her arms and tugged at her jacket. A clearing lay ahead.
In the distance she saw a farmhouse. A warm glow beckoned from the downstairs window. She turned to see the police cruiser racing down the hill, seemingly oblivious to where her car had gone off the road.
Could Serpent see her, even in the dark?
The memory of what had happened four nights ago washed over her—Miriam, her sister, Sarah, and their mother lost in the North Georgia mountains. Wrongly, they’d thought the cops would provide help.
Her heart broke. Tears filled her eyes and her body ached, but she willed her legs forward. The farmhouse was her only hope.
She crossed the clearing and reached the house. Clutching the wood banister, she pulled herself up the stairs to the porch. Relief overcame her, along with exhaustion. Too spent to lift her hand to knock, she gasped when the door opened.
Warmth from inside washed over her. A tall, muscular man stood backlit in the threshold. “Help me,” she pleaded, her head whirling. She grabbed his hand. “He...he wants to kill me.”
* * *
Abram Zook reached for the frightened woman who fell into his arms. Her plaintive cry for help touched a broken place deep within him. Instinctively he pulled her close and cradled her to him.
His sister, Emma, limped down the stairs, wrapping a shawl around her bedclothes.
“Abram, why are you standing in the doorway at this time of night?”
Coming toward him, she gasped, seeing the woman in his arms. “Gott help us.”
“Gott help this woman,” Abram countered.
He carried her to the rocker near the wood-burning stove and gently placed her on the chair.
Emma retrieved the lantern from the table but stopped short when the screech of tires pulled her gaze to the still open doorway. “Abram, look.”
He glanced to where his sister pointed, seeing headlights approaching much too fast along the icy road.
“Stay with the woman.”
Emma reached for his arm. “You cannot save the Englisch from their foolish ways. Do not get involved.”
He shrugged off her warning. “The bridge is out. I must alert the driver.”
Abram stepped onto the porch. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark night.
“Take the lantern,” Emma insisted from the doorway.
Ignoring the request, he ran toward the road, flailing his arms to flag down the oncoming vehicle.
The car screeched to a stop. The driver lowered the window. Abram raised his hand to his eyes, unable to see the driver’s face in the glare of the headlights.
“Did a car pass by here?” the man demanded, his voice as brittle as the ice on the roadway.
“The bridge is out. You must take the other fork in the road.” Abram pointed to where the narrow country path split.
The man glanced back. “Did she go that way?”
Abram would not betray the woman he had cradled against him. “Your car is the first I have seen tonight.”
Cursing, the man turned his vehicle around and screeched away from Abram. The back wheels spun on the slick pavement. He took the fork and accelerated.
Abram hurried back to the house.
Emma locked the door behind him. “Who was that man?” she asked.
“I do not know.”
“He was looking for the woman.” She stated what they both knew was true.
“Perhaps, but he will not find her tonight.”
“I tell you, Abram, she will bring trouble to this house.”
“She is in need, Emma. We will take her upstairs.”
He lifted the woman into his arms and felt her startle. “I have you. You are safe.”
She was thin, too thin.
His sister held the lantern aloft and climbed the stairs ahead of him. On the second floor she pushed open the door to the extra bedroom.
As Abram stepped past her, light from the lantern spilled over the woman’s pale face. His sister inhaled sharply.
He glanced down, taking in the blood that spattered her clothing, the gash to her forehead and the scrapes to her hands and wrists.
His heart lurched.
What had happened to this woman on the run?
* * *
“You are awake?”
Miriam blinked her eyes open to daylight filtering through the window then turned her gaze to the man standing in the doorway of the small bedroom where she lay. He had a ruddy, wind-burned complexion with a dark beard and shaggy black hair that fell below his ears. His white shirt hugged his broad chest and puckered against the suspenders attached to his trousers.
Her mind slowly put the pieces together as she glanced from his clothing to the stark bedroom furnishings and back again to her larger-than-life rescuer. Was she dreaming or had she somehow, in the dead of night, found refuge in an Amish house?
Memories flashed through her mind. Struggling to put her thoughts in order, she tugged the quilt closer to her chin.
His brow knit. “You are afraid?”
Of him? Should she be?
She glanced behind the man to where a woman stood. Petite, with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, she wore a pale blue dress and white apron. Her hair was pulled into a bun under a starched cap. Miriam strained to remember, recalling only snippets of how the woman had tended her cut and dressed her in a flannel nightgown. At least that much she could recall.
The Amish man turned to the woman next to him. “Emma, she needs to eat.”
Miriam shook her head. Food wasn’t important. Being free of Serpent was all that mattered. Then, just that fast, her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had more than a few crackers in four days.
Gathering her courage, she swallowed hard and gave voice to the question that pinged through her head. “Who...who are you?”
“My name is Abram. We will talk soon.”
He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him.
“Wait,” she called.
The door opened again. He stared at her, his face drawn, eyes pensive.
Was he friend or foe? She couldn’t tell.
“My cell,” she explained. “I need to make a phone call.”
“I do not have your cell,” he stated.
“But it was in my hand, then I dropped it into my pocket.” She raised her voice for emphasis. “You have my clothes.”
He glanced at the woman. He’d called her Emma. Was she his wife?
“You have found a phone?” he asked.
“No, Brother.” The woman shook her head. “A phone was not among her clothing.”
“That can’t be right,” Miriam objected. Why couldn’t they both understand? “Do you know what a cell phone looks like?”
The man pursed his lips. His face clouded, either with anger or frustration. “My sister did not find a cell phone among your things.”
“Do you have a phone? A landline? Or a computer with internet access?”
He raised his hand as if to silence her. “You must eat. Then we will talk.” The door closed.
Miriam groaned with frustration. She threw off the covers, dropped her feet to the floor and sat upright. Her head throbbed and her mouth was thick as cotton. Gingerly, she touched her side, remembering the blow to her ribs.
Her muscles ached and the room swirled when she stood. Holding on to the wooden bedframe, she pulled back the sheer material that covered the window and glanced outside. In the distance she could see hills and a winding road, no doubt, the one she had raced along last night. She shivered, remembering her car careering over the embankment and heading for the icy water.
The muffled sound of a door slamming on the first floor forced her gaze to the yard below. The man left the house and walked with purposeful strides across the dormant winter grass. He had donned a black coat and felt hat with a wide brim and turned his head, left to right, as if to survey his land as he walked.
A crow cawed overhead. She strained to hear the sounds that usually filled her ears, of cars and sirens and train whistles. Here the quiet was as pristine as the landscape.
Glancing again at the man, she touched her hand to the windowpane, the cold glass taking her back four days.
A jumble of images flashed through her mind. The middle-of-the-night traffic stop on the mountain road. Two cops, one with the serpent tattoo insisting she leave her car. Her mother’s confused outrage, escalating the situation until the second man stepped to the pavement and brandished his gun. The shots rang in her memory.
She closed her eyes, unwilling to go deeper into the tragedy. Instead she thought of her time at the cabin when she and her sister had been held captive.
Sarah!
Grief weighed upon her heart. Hot tears stung her eyes. Her sister, just barely twenty-one, had been carted away last night by a tall, skinny, red-haired man. His threat to silence Sarah if she didn’t stop crying played through Miriam’s mind and made her gasp with fear.
She choked back a sob of despair and wiped her hand over her cheeks, intent on regaining control of her emotions. She had escaped from the cabin. Now she had to find Sarah and learn the truth about her mother.
With a series of determined sniffs, she turned her focus back to the Amish man as he neared the barn and pulled the door open. He glanced over his shoulder. Then looked up. His gaze locked on hers.
Her cheeks burned. She dropped the curtain in place and stepped away from the window. She didn’t want him to see her watching.
She had to get away, away from the mountains and back to civilization where she would find trustworthy officers who would enforce the law. Once they learned how she and her family had been attacked, they would hunt down the corrupt cops and help her find her sister.
She had to find Sarah. She had to find her alive.
TWO (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139)
“What do you want from me, Lord?” Abram had finished feeding the horses and now stared at the gray sky, wishing Gott would part the clouds and speak to his heart.
Bear trotted from the corner where he slept to rub against Abram’s leg as if even the farm dog understood his confusion. Bending to rub Bear’s neck, Abram took comfort in the animal’s doleful gaze and desire to please.
“You are a smart dog, but you do not understand the human heart.” Neither did Abram.
As Bear ambled back to his favorite corner, Abram straightened and stared again at the sky, questioning his own sensibilities. No woman had made him feel so much emotion since Rebecca. His first and only love had been taken too soon, which, as his faith told him, was Gott’s will. Although if that were true, then why in the dark moments of the night did he question Gott’s wisdom?
He turned his gaze to the second-story window where the woman had stood earlier. Abram had not learned her name, yet he yearned to know more about her. She had fallen into his arms, seeking help, not knowing of his failings in the past.
What had come over him, thinking thoughts about another woman? Especially an Englisch woman?
A righteous man lusted not with his eyes nor his heart. The admonition sprang from deep within him, darkening his already somber outlook.
He left the barn and headed for the house, turning as a car pulled into his drive. The sheriff braked to a stop and crawled from his squad car. He was mid-fifties with graying hair and tired eyes that had lost their sparkle years earlier.
Abram approached the car and extended his hand. “Samuel.”
The sheriff—Abram’s uncle—smiled ruefully as the two men shook hands. “You’re the only one in the family who acknowledges me, for which I’m grateful.”
“Yah, but if you returned home to Ethridge, you might find some who would offer welcome.”
“Your mother, perhaps. She is a good woman who knows how to forgive. I don’t think your father would be as charitable.”
Abram knew too well his father’s unwillingness to forgive. “My father does not understand a man who leaves his faith.”
“The Amish way was not my way. We have talked of this before.” Samuel sniffed. “You’re a good man to allow me into your life, Abram.”
“I welcome you as the sheriff of Willkommen. You keep the peace so I can live in peace, as well.”
He studied his uncle, seeing the shadows under his eyes and the flash of regret that could not be hidden. “Yet you still question your decision.”
Samuel’s brow furrowed. “What makes you think I’m not at peace?”
“I see it in the set of your jaw and the bent of your shoulders. You carry a heavy load.”
“No heavier than you, my nephew. You still grieve for Rebecca.”
“Yah, and for the mistake I made out of my own pride. Not going to the Englisch hospital when her labor pains started cost Rebecca her life, as well as the life of our child. That is the burden I carry.”
“And the bishop?”
“He says I am forgiven.”
“Yet, what about you, Abram? Can you forgive yourself?”
The sheriff’s eyes pierced the wall Abram had placed around his heart. Three years had passed but the wound was still so raw. A wound he feared would never heal.
Just like Emma’s limp and his good friend Trevor’s tragic death, some mistakes lasted forever.
“God doesn’t exact payment for our wrongdoings, Abram. Remember that.”
“My father would say you are wrong, Samuel.”
“Does your father not have his own burdens?”
Abram smiled weakly. “I was his burden.”
“Perhaps in your youth when you were struggling to find your way, but you remained Amish. That should have brought him comfort.”
Longing to shift the conversation away from the past, Abram said, “You did not come here to talk about my transgressions.”
“You’re right.” Samuel pointed to the mountain road. “Old Man Jacobs said two cars raced down the hill last night. Curtis Idler and my new deputy, Ned Quigley, are talking to him now and trying to get more information.”
Abram turned his gaze to the road. “I am surprised Ezra Jacobs could see anything at night and even more surprised that he would contact the sheriff’s office. As far as I know, he is one of the few Englischers who never installed a phone line.”
“True, but his son, Walt, has been checking in on Ezra and left a cell for him to use in case he needed help.”
“Did he need help last night?” Abram asked.
“Not help, but he was concerned.” Samuel raised his brow. “What about you, Abram? Did you see cars racing down the mountain?”
“Something has happened?”
“One of the cops in the next county found an abandoned car that ran off the road and nearly landed in the river. I’m headed there now. My deputies will join me when they finish talking to Jacobs.”
“The mountain road can be slick and dangerous, yet you question me?”
“I thought you might have seen something. The car was found just over the county line and not far from your property.”
How could Abram forget the man last night who was driving too fast?
“Besides, I had time to kill,” the sheriff confessed. “Bruce Tucker, the chief of the Petersville Police Department, guards his turf like a bulldog. He’ll insist his own officers search the scene before he invites me or any of my deputies on site.”
Abram had heard talk about Tucker being less than cordial. “Chief Tucker does not welcome your help?”
“He does not want anyone’s help. Some folks call him a bensel. Others say he is schmaert like a hund.”
“A silly child or smart like a dog. You have not forgotten the language of your childhood, Samuel.”
“I have not forgotten anything, Abram.” Samuel frowned. “But you didn’t answer my question. Did you see a car on the road last night?”
“Yah. The driver was going fast. I flagged him down and warned him about the bridge.”
“Was anyone else in the car?”
“I saw only one person.”
“Can you describe the driver?”
“The glare of headlights was in my eyes. He leaned out the window, but I could not see his features. He turned the car around and took the fork in the road, heading west.”
“What about the make of car and the license plate?” Samuel pressed.
“A black sedan. I did not think it was important to notice the license plate.”
“Did you check the time?”
“Soon after midnight.”
“Yet you were awake and saw his lights in time to warn him?” Samuel asked.
“Sleep is sometimes not my friend, as you must know.”
His uncle glanced at the house. “What about Emma? Did she see anything?”
“Emma does not have trouble sleeping.”
“Fortunate for her.” The sheriff slapped Abram’s shoulder in farewell before he returned to his car.
As he pulled onto the roadway, Abram climbed the steps of his porch and sighed deeply. He had to find out more about the woman upstairs.
He wanted to know who was after her and why.
* * *
Miriam stared at the tray of food Emma had brought to the guest bedroom. She had tried to eat, but her stomach was queasy and her mind kept flashing back to the smattering of details she could remember about the traffic stop.
In addition to the food, Emma had also provided a clean change of clothes—an Amish dress that she’d pulled from the blanket chest sitting in the corner of the room, along with an apron. Miriam considered herself a jeans-and-sweater type of gal, but the dress fit and she appreciated having something other than a flannel nightgown to wear.
Emma, probably mid-to-late twenties, was a foot shorter than Miriam with a pretty complexion and a sweet smile. She also exuded an abundance of patience as she showed Miriam how to straight-pin the dress at the bodice and waist. Working together, they had subdued Miriam’s somewhat unruly hair and twisted it into a bun.
Spying a number of skeins of yarn along with crochet hooks and knitting needles in the blanket chest and, knowing she needed some outlet for the nervous energy that swelled within her, Miriam had asked if she could use the yarn to make a scarf for her newfound friend.
Emma seemed to appreciate the offer and her eyes sparkled as she lumbered to the door. Miriam couldn’t help but notice the deformed angle of her left foot that caused her to limp.
The Amish woman’s handicap was obvious. Miriam clasped her hands to her heart, wondering about her own wounds, growing up within a dysfunctional family.
Maybe here in the quiet of this Amish home, she would quell the turmoil that had been the norm in her life for far too long. Then she thought of all that had happened and realized she was asking too much. Some scars cut too deep.
Sighing, she wrapped her arms around her waist and jerked when her finger snagged against the sharp tip of one of the straight pins. A bead of blood surfaced almost instantly. She glanced around the room, looking for a box of tissues. Seeing none, she neared the porcelain pitcher and washbowl on the oak dresser. After pouring water over her finger, she dried her hands on the thick towel and repositioned the pin to prevent another prick.
Footsteps sounded, coming up the stairs. Her heart pounded, expecting Abram to open the door. Confusion had rocked her the last time he had done so. As much as she appreciated him giving her shelter for the night, she didn’t want to face his penetrating eyes and stern gaze.
Miriam had seen the sheriff’s car in the drive. Had Abram mentioned the woman hiding in his house?
The steps drew nearer. A knock at the door. “May I enter?”
His voice was deep, stilted. Did she detect an edge of impatience?
She wrung her hands to calm the trembling that came unbidden. What was wrong with her? She had done nothing wrong.
Again flashes of memories washed over her. Hot tears burned her eyes. She wiped at her cheeks, needing to be clear-headed and alert when she faced this giant of a man. No doubt he would question who she was and why she had stumbled into his life.
Another knock.
She stepped to the door and ever so slowly pulled it open. He stood on the other side, too close. Much too close.
Her breath hitched. She took a step back, needing to distance herself from his bulk and the smell of him that filled her nostrils with a mix of fresh soap and mountain air.
His hair, now neatly brushed back from his forehead, fell to where his beard hugged his square jaw, framing his face and accentuating the crystal blue of his eyes.
He dropped his gaze, taking in the simple dress she wore. Pain swept his face. He swallowed hard. “I will be downstairs. We need to talk.” Without further explanation, he closed the door, his footsteps heavy as he descended the stairs.
She didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not when so much had happened. If only she could find her cell phone. She needed to call Hannah. Her older sister had always known what she wanted, and it hadn’t been to remain in Tennessee with a mother who showed the classic signs of early onset Alzheimer’s.
Miriam needed help and someone to lean on for support.
Abram’s broad shoulders came to mind.
She shook her head. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust any man, not even the Amish man who had saved her life.
THREE (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139)
Standing at the kitchen counter, Abram gulped down the last swig of coffee and wondered again about what had brought the mysterious woman to his door.
Should he have told Samuel? Her fear the night before had made Abram hesitant about revealing her presence. Thankfully his uncle had not asked him point-blank about the woman. Abram would not lie, but he need not divulge information that could terrorize her even more.
He placed the mug in the sink and rubbed his temple to still the pressure that had built up over the long hours he had tried to sleep. Seeing the woman wearing Rebecca’s clothing had been a new stab to his heart. Of course, Emma had not realized the effect it would have on him.
The woman needed clothes to wear while her own things were being washed. His sister was shorter than their visitor, so offering Rebecca’s dress had been a practical solution, except for what it had done to his equilibrium.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
He startled at the sound of the woman’s voice and turned to face his guest. “I did not hear you come down the stairs.”
His heart lurched again, seeing her in Rebecca’s dress. He gripped the kitchen counter to steady himself and to make certain he was in the present and not dreaming of his wife yet with another face.
In an attempt to slow his racing heart, he searched for common ground. “The coffee is hot.”
She shook her head. A strand of hair fell over her pale cheek. “I’m full from breakfast.”
“Then you had enough to eat?”
“More than enough. I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
“I do not know your name.”
“Miriam,” she quickly replied.
He waited, expecting more. Then, when she failed to respond, he raised his brow. “Should you not have a family name, as well?”
“Of course.” Her face flushed. “It’s Miller.”
“Your father’s name?”
“Actually, it was my mother’s surname.” She paused before adding, “My mother lived in Willkommen as a child. I was headed there to find her sister, but I got lost on the mountain roads. Is the town far?”
“Ten miles at most.”
She took a step closer, her gaze expectant. “Then you might know Annie Miller.”
“I know Eli Miller. His wife’s name is Hattie. Perhaps your aunt has married?”
“I... I...” She faltered. “I don’t know. My mother had only recently mentioned that she had a sister.”
“You should ask more from your mother.”
She wrung her hands. “I could call my sister if I had my phone.”
“Could your phone have dropped from your pocket?” he offered, hoping to soothe her unease.
“Maybe. I’m not sure. What about a computer? I mentioned it upstairs, but you didn’t answer me. Don’t some Amish people use computers for business?”
“I do not have electricity to run a computer, nor a computer. That is not the way I live.”
She held up her hand. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I did not take your comment as an offense.”
Her oval face was tight with worry. She rubbed her arms.
“You are cold?” he asked, concerned for her well-being.
“I’m fine, except I need my phone.”
“There are phones in Willkommen. You can call from there.”
She raised her hand to her forehand and carefully played her fingertips over the blackened bruise. “The problem is that I can’t remember my sister’s number. We haven’t talked in...”
She shook her head and bit her lip as if she couldn’t finish the thought that played heavy on her heart. “My sister’s number is programmed in the contacts on my cell, that’s why I need to find my phone.”
“Perhaps you cannot remember her number because you are tired. You did not sleep well?”
She dropped her hand and bristled ever so slightly. “My problem is not lack of sleep.”
He had pushed too far. Abram pointed to her forehead. “Someone hit you?”
“I fell,” she corrected. “Your sister was kind enough to clean the wound last night.”
A man had chased after her. A man who, according to her own words, wanted to kill her. A husband perhaps. Abram glanced at her left hand where he had not seen a ring as the Englisch were accustomed to wear. He did, however, see the bruise marks around her wrists.
Nervously she wiped her hands along the fabric of her dress. “Thank you for the clothing. It belongs to someone in your family? Your wife? She...” A furtive glance. “She is away?”
“My sister did not tell you?”
Innocent eyes. How could someone seemingly so open with her gaze be chased by a crazed man? He hesitated, weighing the thoughts that tangled through his mind.
“Tell me what, Abram?”
His chest tightened at the inflection of her voice when she said his given name.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly added.
Had she noticed his surprise?
“Is it impolite to use your first name?” she asked. “I don’t know Amish customs nor your last name.”
“Zook. My name is Abram Zook. My wife, Rebecca, and my unborn child died three years ago.”
Miriam’s face clouded as if feeling his pain. “I’m sorry, Mr. Zook, and I apologize for any impropriety on my part.” She touched the bodice of the dress Rebecca had so carefully stitched.
The front panel had challenged his wife when the fabric refused to lay straight. The memory of her bright smile when she had mastered the problem brought heaviness to his heart. The dress had been the last she had made before learning she was with child.
He turned, unable to face the woman in his wife’s clothing. Instead he stared through the kitchen window. His gaze took in the hillside and the winding road that had brought the Englisch woman to his door.
“I’ve upset you after you were nice enough to take me in.” She sighed. “As soon as I have my phone, I’ll be on my way.”
Slowly he turned to face her, needing to gauge her reaction to his next statement. “The sheriff said a car ran off the road, not far from here, but in the next county.”
Fear clouded her eyes. She rubbed her neck and glanced down. “Did...did you tell the sheriff about me?”
“He did not ask if I had visitors so I did not tell him.”
She glanced up, her gaze a swirl of unrest. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I did not think you had.” He hesitated a long moment before adding, “Yet a man followed you last night. He is your husband?”
Shock—no, horror—washed over her pale face. “I would never have anything to do with an animal like him.”
“Yet he was looking for you.”
She raised her chin. “I ask that you trust me. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing, but the man is evil. I don’t want you or your sister to get involved. That’s why I have to leave. Now. Can you take me to Willkommen? From there, I can catch a bus to Atlanta.”
“I will take you to Willkommen, but not today.” Not while law enforcement in two counties was investigating an abandoned car. For her own safety, the woman needed to stay put.
“But I have to contact my older sister in Atlanta.”
He nodded. “You can do so when we go to town tomorrow.”
She took a step back. Frustration clouded her gaze. “What will I do until then?”
The back door opened and Emma stepped inside, carrying a basket of apples. She glanced questioningly at Miriam and then at her brother.
He lifted his hat off the wall peg and stepped toward the open door. “Our guest wishes to help you.”
His sister’s face darkened. “Where are you going, Abram?”
“The fence needs repair. Lock the door after I am gone.”
Emma caught his arm. “You are worried that the sheriff will return?”
“I am not worried.” He stepped onto the porch.
“You did not eat this morning, Abram,” his sister called after him. “You will be hungry.”
“I will survive.”
“Yah. You are a strong man.”
Before the door closed he heard Emma’s final comment. “Perhaps too strong.”
His sister knew his weakness almost as well as he knew it himself.
“Gott,” he mumbled, looking up at the sky and shaking his head with regret. “Forgive me for my prideful heart.”
* * *
“Wait!” Miriam hurried past a startled Emma and grabbed a black cape off the hook by the door. Throwing it around her shoulders, she raced from the house.
“Abram,” she called.
Surprise registered on his square face as he turned. Or was it impatience? With his pensive gaze and stoic expression, the man was hard to read.
“I need your help,” she said, running toward him.
He hesitated a moment, probably thinking of the fence that demanded his attention.
“You’re right about my phone.” Miriam stopped short of where he stood. “It must have fallen from my pocket.”
She looked at the winding mountain road in the distance and the grassy pasture that led toward a thick wood. “But, I’m confused. Do you know the direction I would have walked last night? I remember coming through the woods, then a clearing.”
“The sheriff mentioned a car bogged in mud at the river’s edge.” Abram pointed to the stand of trees at the far side of the pasture. “The county line is just beyond those pines that mark the end of my property. The river curves close to the road there. I believe it is where you left your car.”
Overwhelmed by the vast area she would have to cover, Miriam pulled in a deep breath and nodded with resolve. “I’ll start by looking around the house first.”
“You have heard the saying, ‘a needle in a haystack’?”
The seriousness of his tone made her smile. “Does that mean I should give up before I start?”
His full lips twitched and a spark of levity brightened his gaze. “We will search together. I will help you, Miriam.”
She liked the way he said her name as well as his offer of assistance. Returning his almost smile with one of her own, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. “Thank you, Abram.”
“We will begin here.” He pointed to the stepping stones upon which they stood. “And we will take the path through the pasture. Perhaps you followed it last night.”
Without further delay he dropped his gaze and walked slowly toward the drive. Miriam followed close behind him, searching the winter grass cut short enough that a cell phone would be visible.
On the far side of the dirt drive she paused and breathed in the serenity of the setting, then smiled as a big dog with long, golden hair ambled out of the barn. She patted her hand against her thigh, calling him closer. “What’s the pup’s name?”
Abram stopped to watch the dog sidle next to Miriam. “His name is Bear.”
She rubbed behind the dog’s ear. “You’re big as a bear, but sweet.” She cooed to the dog before looking up at Abram. “He’s part golden retriever?”
“With a mix of Lab.”
Again she lowered her gaze to the dog. “How come I haven’t seen you before this?” Bear wagged his tail and nuzzled closer as if enjoying the attention.
“He sleeps in the barn. You did not see him last night because I had closed the doors to keep the horses warm.”
“I’m glad I got to meet you today, Bear.” With a final pat to the dog’s head, Miriam straightened and took in the pristine acreage around Abram’s house. In the distance, a number of horses grazed on the hillside. “The animals are yours?”
“Yah. The others are in the barn.” A look of pride and accomplishment wrapped around his handsome face. “Horses are necessary for the Amish way of life. They provide transportation. They pull our plows and haul produce and products to market.”
“They’re beautiful, but a car and tractor would make your life easier.”
“Easier does not mean better.” He returned to his search, leaving her to ponder his statement.
So many people yearned for modern conveniences to enhance their quality of life. But did possessions bring contentment?
Her mother had traveled the country, looking for happiness. Instead she had found unrest and confusion.
In her youth Miriam had longed for a father to love her and the security of a stable home. She had found neither.
Like the elusive memories of her past, the wind tugged at the hem of her dress and wrapped the fabric around her legs. For a fleeting moment she felt a new appreciation for the Amish way and almost a kinship with this man who embraced the simple life.
Hurrying to catch up to Abram, she asked, “What can you tell me about the sheriff? He’s from Willkommen?”
“Originally he came from Tennessee. His name is Samuel Kurtz. He is my mother’s brother.”
Not what she had expected to hear. “The sheriff is your uncle?”
Abram studied the surprise she was hard-pressed to control. “Does that seem strange to you?” he asked.
“A bit.” Actually it surprised her a lot. “How can an Amish man work in law enforcement?”
“Before baptism, young men and women decide how they will live their lives, whether they will remain in the community or move elsewhere. My uncle did not wish to remain Amish. Our family is from Ethridge, Tennessee. Samuel came to Georgia to make a new life for himself. He is respected here. A year ago, he was elected sheriff.”
“You moved here to be near your uncle?”
“The land brought me. The price was good. I wanted to make a new home for myself and my wife.”
“Did you ever consider leaving the Amish way, like your uncle?”
“Once, but I was young and foolish. Thankfully, I changed my mind and realized what I would be leaving.” His eyes softened. “The Amish walk a narrow path, Miriam, but we know where it leads. My uncle wanted something else for his life.”
“And he’s happy?” she quizzed.
“You will have to ask him.” Abram motioned her toward a path that cut across the pasture. “This is the way you walked last night.”
She glanced back at the house. “How can you be so certain?”
“Your footprint is there in the dirt.”
Glancing at where he pointed, she recognized the faint outline of her shoe.
“Which means we don’t have to search the entire pasture to find my cell.” Feeling a swell of relief, Miriam hurried forward, hoping her phone would be as easy to find as her footprint.
Abram led the way, seemingly intent on the quest, until the sound of a motor vehicle turned his gaze to the road.
“A car is coming,” he warned. “You must go back to the house.”
She wasn’t ready to give up the search. “I haven’t found my cell.”
He took her arm, his grasp firm, and turned her around. “Hurry. Someone comes.”
The intensity of his tone drove home the danger of being seen. Fear overcame her and she ran toward the house. Was she running for protection or running into a trap?
* * *
Everything inside Abram screamed that he had to protect Miriam. From what or from whom, he was not sure.
He ran to the road and stepped onto the pavement just as the Willkommen sheriff’s car rounded the bend. Abram glanced back at the pasture. Miriam was still running, the black cape billowing out behind her.
His heart thumped a warning for her and one for himself, as well. His actions since Miriam had stumbled onto his porch were so outside the norm that it seemed as if someone else had taken control of his body and his mind.
Seeing his uncle at the wheel of the squad car, Abram raised his hand in greeting. Samuel slowed the vehicle to a stop and rolled down the window. Abram leaned into the car.
His uncle’s face was drawn, his eyes filled with sadness.
“Go home, Abram, and lock your doors.” Samuel flicked his gaze to the fleeing figure in the distance. “Keep Emma inside.”
Thankfully, his uncle had not questioned Miriam’s even gait and, instead, had mistaken the Englischer for his sister.
Knowing something serious was underfoot, Abram pressed for more information. “What is it you are trying to tell me, Samuel?”
“I mentioned that the Petersville police found a car at the river’s edge. When I got there, they were searching the back seat and taking prints. They found a woman’s purse.”
“The handbag belongs to the person who owns the car?”
The sheriff nodded but the pull of his jaw told Abram more than a purse was at stake.
“The trunk of the car was locked. They were preparing to break it open when I left.”
A nerve twitched in Abram’s jaw. A roar filled his ears. He strained to hear the sheriff’s words.
“The car is registered to a woman, age twenty-four. The police are trying to track her down.”
Emma’s warning about Miriam floated again through Abram’s mind. She will bring trouble to this house.
What had become of the peace and surety of his life? Overnight he had gone from calm to chaos.
“The woman who owns the car is from a small town outside Knoxville,” Samuel continued. “One of Chief Tucker’s officers contacted the authorities there. Seems she lived with her mother and younger sister. All three women have been missing for a number of days. No one knows where they went. The daughter told the neighbors her mother had Alzheimer’s, yet the neighbors claimed the mother seemed normal.”
Miriam had not mentioned her mother’s dementia.
“The younger sister’s twenty-one.” The sheriff tugged on his jaw. “She’s missing, as well.”
“What are you saying, Samuel?”
“I’m saying you need to be on guard, Abram. Deputy Idler will stop by once they learn what’s in the trunk. I wanted him to alert you and the other Amish families who live out here if anything points to foul play. The circumstances are different, but I keep thinking about Rosie Glick, that Amish girl who went missing some months ago.”
“Supposedly, Rose ran off with an Englisch boy.”
“That’s what we thought at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”
Abram could no longer keep silent. “There is something I need to tell you, Samuel, that might tie—”
Glancing at his watch, the sheriff held up his hand to cut Abram off. “It’ll have to wait. I’ve got to get back to town. Art Garner, one of my deputies, was involved in a vehicular accident on the road leading up Pine Lodge Mountain. He’s being air-evacuated to Atlanta. I told his wife I’d drive her to the hospital.”
“You will return tomorrow?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I need to handle some business while I’m in the city and won’t be back for at least three days. The Petersville police will be in charge of the investigation. Idler will be the point of contact on our end. He’ll keep you updated if new information surfaces.”
The sheriff narrowed his gaze. “Be careful, Abram. Watch your back until the women are found.”
“But, Samuel—” Before Abram could mention his houseguest, the sheriff pulled his sedan onto the roadway and sped down the hill, taking the fork in the road that headed to Willkommen.
Tension tightened Abram’s spine as he gazed at his house in the distance. Miriam had come back out of the house and was standing on the porch, tugging at her hair. Was she fearful of what the sheriff had found?
Slowly he walked toward her. In his mind, he laid out the many questions he needed to ask. Before he reached the drive, the sound of another car cut through the stillness.
“Go inside, Miriam,” he called. “Now.”
Her eyes widened, but thankfully she complied and closed the door behind her just as one of the Willkommen deputy’s cars pulled into the drive.
Curtis Idler, midforties with a muscular build and receding hairline, climbed from the passenger side and nodded to Abram. He pointed to a second deputy behind the wheel. “You know Ned Quigley?”
“We have never met, but Samuel has mentioned his name.” Abram bent and peered into the squad car. Ned was probably ten years younger than Idler, but a big man with full cheeks and curly hair. The deputy raised his hand in greeting. Abram nodded before turning his focus to Idler.
A scowl covered the older deputy’s drawn face and angled jaw. “I came to warn you, Abram. A woman, probably midfifties, was shot twice. Her body was locked in the trunk of the car that was abandoned by the river. Looks like she’s been dead a few days. Thankfully she was zipped up tight in a plastic mattress bag or you would have smelled her even here.”
Abram’s stomach soured at the thought of the dead woman jammed into the trunk of a car.
Idler pulled a smartphone from his pocket. He tapped on the cell a number of times and then angled the screen so Abram could see the picture that came into view.
“I know you Amish are against photography, but you need to see this.”
As much as Abram did not want to look at the phone, his eyes were drawn there.
“The murdered woman’s name is Leah Miller. She’s from Tennessee. This is the suspect we’re looking for,” the deputy continued. “A killer who’s considered armed and dangerous.”
Abram’s heart lurched as he stared at the photo.
A killer? Armed and dangerous?
Something was terribly wrong.
Abram fought to control his emotions as Idler climbed into the passenger seat and Quigley backed the car out of the drive.
All Abram could see was the photo on Idler’s phone.
The photo was of Miriam.
Miriam was not a killer. Or was she?
FOUR (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139)
Miriam stood next to the woodstove, but even with the warmth from the burning logs she felt chilled to the core. Her hands shook as she shoved hair back from her face and braced herself for Abram’s reproach.
Emma washed apples in the kitchen sink, her back to Miriam, for which she was grateful. The woman’s silence was indication enough of the tension that filled the house.
Abram’s heavy footfalls on the porch signaled his approach before the door opened and he stepped across the threshold. He glanced at Miriam with hooded blue eyes then he spoke to his sister in what must have been Pennsylvania Dutch from the harsh guttural sounds Miriam couldn’t understand.
Emma nodded curtly and scurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Miriam to wrap her arms tightly around her midriff and pull in a deep breath. She was determined to stand her ground against the tall and muscular man whose presence sucked the air from her lungs.
Serpent had warned her about other police officers working with him. He’d insisted that alerting law enforcement would cause Miriam more harm than good.
“I do not know what the sheriff told you,” she said, taking the offensive before Abram could accuse her. She spread her hands. “As I mentioned to you earlier, I have done nothing wrong.”
“You are quick to rationalize behavior about which I have not spoken.”
Gathering courage from deep within, she refused to lower her gaze. “I will leave as soon as possible,” she said through tight lips. “But I need my clothing and my phone. I also need transportation to Willkommen. As I mentioned earlier, I presume there is a bus that will take me to Atlanta.”
“Yah.” He nodded. “The bus runs at the end of the week.”
“Do you know the schedule?”
He shook his head. “But you can check when we are in town.”
“If you drop me at the bus station, I can—”
What would she do without money? Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her purse, although she kept an emergency stash of fifty-dollar bills in the glove compartment of her car. Hopefully the police wouldn’t flip through the pages of the vehicle maintenance book where she had hid the money.
Abram was staring at her.
“I’ll be safe with my sister, Hannah, in Atlanta,” she said, trying to pick up her train of thought.
“The person you hoped to call with your phone?”
Miriam nodded. “That’s right.”
“Still you do not remember her phone number?”
“The number is programmed in the contacts on my phone,” Miriam explained. “I told you all this earlier.”
He raised a brow. “Yet you told me nothing about your mother.”
She took a step back. “My mother?”
Miriam’s cheeks burned. She didn’t need a mirror to realize how hot and flushed she must look.
Abram pointed to the kitchen table. “It is time we talk freely.”
He indicated the bench where he wanted her to sit. She lowered herself onto the long wooden seat and remained silent as he sat across from her.
The table was smooth as silk and gleamed with shellac or polish or a mix of both. She glanced at his large hands, noting the scrapes and calluses, realizing he had probably made the table.
Serpent’s hands were soft with short, pudgy fingers. What he lacked in size, he made up for with brute force.
She cringed, remembering the strike to her forehead and the jab to her ribs. Without thinking, she touched the tender spot at the side of her brow.
Abram’s eyes followed her hand. “Who hurt you?”
She could no longer hide the truth. “A policeman who has a serpent tattooed on his neck.”
“You stayed with him?”
“Not willingly.”
Abram flattened his palms on the table. “Why do you hesitate telling me your story?”
“My story?” Did he think this was make-believe?
“What happened, Miriam? Why were you with him? Why do you have bruises on your wrists?”
Unwilling to relive the experience, she started to rise. Abram caught her hand. His touch was firm, yet gentle, and his gaze was filled with understanding.
She stared at him for a long moment, searching for any sign of aggression. All she saw was compassion and a concern for her well-being.
Pulling in a ragged breath, she lowered herself onto the bench. She had nowhere else to turn and no one, other than this Amish man, to help her. She would have to trust him with her story, as he called it. He had taken her in and he deserved to know the truth about what had happened on the mountain.
Her mouth was dry, her throat tight. She pulled her hand free from his hold and toyed with her fingers, weighing how to begin.
“I... I lived in Tennessee with my mother and younger sister, Sarah. My older sister moved to Atlanta a few years ago.”
“Hannah?” he asked.
“That’s right. She’s two years older than I am.” Miriam paused, struggling for a way to explain the reality of her life. “Our mother was a free spirit of sorts.”
She glanced at Abram. “Do you understand that term?”
The faintest hint of a smile curled his full lips. “Although the Amish end their formal education at the eighth grade, there is much that can be learned outside the schoolhouse.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t educated. I just wasn’t sure if you had heard of the expression.”
“You said your mother was a free spirit.” He brought her back to the subject at hand.
Miriam wiped her fingers over the tabletop, wishing her life had been as smooth. “Mother carted us across the United States. We rarely stayed for more than a few months in any one place.”
Thinking back to her youth, Miriam shook her head. “We were pulled out of so many schools. We longed for a normal life. We had anything but stability, living with our mother.”
“How did you get to Tennessee?”
“Friends invited Mother to visit. They had a small home for rent outside of Knoxville, and we moved in. Not long after that she started showing signs of dementia. I took her to a local doctor who diagnosed her with early onset Alzheimer’s. You’re aware of the condition?”
Abram nodded. “I am.”
“Her mind slowly deteriorated.”
“Yet you brought her to Georgia?” he asked.
“Which is what she wanted, although in hindsight we never should have left Knoxville.”
“But you always did what your mother wanted.”
“Which now sounds foolish and immature.” She hung her head, thinking of the real reason she had agreed to travel to Georgia. Abram didn’t need to know her motives. She’d made a horrific mistake, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
“A few months ago,” Miriam continued, “Mother started talking about an estranged sister with whom she hoped to reconnect.”
“This is the aunt who lives in Willkommen?”
Nodding, Miriam added, “Annie Miller is her name, although I’m not sure where she lives or if she even exists. Mother became insistent that she needed to see her sister. Prior to that, she had never talked about her family or siblings, and we never brought up the subject.”
A sigh escaped Miriam’s lips. “Knowing it was a subject she didn’t want to talk about kept us from asking questions. We knew her parents had died and that she’d rejected their faith.”
Abram’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Your mother did not believe in Gott?”
“She believed there was a God, she just didn’t believe she needed Him in her life. Or that we needed Him. We lived near San Antonio for a period of time and visited a few of the missions. I saw something there that I wanted in my own life. A love of God. An ability to turn to Him in times of need. A belief in His goodness and mercy.”
“Did you tell your mother how you felt?” Abram asked.
“I tried. She became agitated and insisted I was being foolish. We moved not long after that.”
“Which made you even more hesitant to discuss faith.”
Miriam’s heart warmed. “That’s it exactly. To maintain peace and some semblance of family stability, we skirted any mention of the Lord.”
“And now?” He raised his brow.
She was puzzled by his question. “I don’t understand.”
“How do you feel about Gott now?”
“I...” She tried to identify her feelings. “I’m not sure. I started attending a church in Tennessee when Mother’s condition grew worse. I was searching, maybe reaching out for help. The people were welcoming, but I struggled to accept the fullness of their faith in God. Perhaps I had pushed Him aside too many times.”
Turning her gaze to the window, she could see the horses grazing on the hillside. “I doubt the Lord would have interest in a woman who grew up fearing to mention His name.”
“You were young, Miriam. You had no one to teach you or lead you to faith. Besides, Gott would not hold you accountable for the actions of your mother.”
“I don’t know if that’s true, Abram. I worked in a local craft shop and tried to earn enough money to pay the rent and put food on the table. I didn’t need to compound my struggle with issues of faith.”
She offered him a weak smile. “We’ve gotten off topic. You wanted to know about Serpent.”
Painful though it was to give voice to the flashes of clarity that circled through her mind, she slowly and methodically explained, as best she could, the middle-of-the-night traffic stop that turned tragic.
“I was driving. It was late and the mountain roads confused me. Seeing the police lights in my rearview mirror brought relief, until I saw the serpent tattoo on the neck of the so-called officer. He made me leave the car. My mother became agitated. She lunged from the back seat, screaming, and rushed at him with raised fists. A second guy remained inside the police vehicle. I had the feeling he was in charge and that Serpent was doing his bidding.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I wish I could. The flashing light on the roof of the car blinded me. When my mother went after Serpent, the other guy stepped to the pavement and turned his weapon on her. He fired once, twice. I didn’t see his face. All I saw was my mother’s blood.”
Hot tears burned her eyes. “I... I don’t know what happened after that. Sarah was still in the car. I struggled to get to her. Serpent struck me and knocked me out. I never saw my mother again.”
The tight expression that washed over Abram’s face chilled her. “What have you learned?” she demanded, anticipating the answer before he spoke.
He took her hand. “The police found an older woman’s body in the trunk of your car.”
Miriam dropped her head and moaned. She had feared her mother was dead, but hearing the words spoken was like a knife piercing her heart.
Abram circled the table and slid next to her on the bench. His muscular arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his embrace.
For so many years she had longed for strong shoulders to support her. Never had she suspected comfort would come from an Amish man whose upbringing and background were so totally different from hers.
She buried her head against his chest and cried heart-wrenching sobs for all that had happened. For the trip to Georgia that had ended in tragedy. For Sarah, who had been taken and might never be found again. And for the horrific murder of the mother Miriam had loved so much, who had never loved her in return.
* * *
“I will not let this man hurt you again,” Abram whispered as he gathered Miriam deeper into his embrace.
As much as he wanted her to remain there, she eventually pulled back. Her face was blotched with tears, but even then he saw her determination to muster on.
She sniffed and wiped her hands over her cheeks. “There’s more to tell, Abram.”
He relaxed his hold on her, knowing she needed space.
She dabbed at her eyes and bit her lip. Then, playing her fingers over the smooth finish of the table, she drew in series of jagged breaths and straightened her spine as if gathering courage and finding the wherewithal to continue.
“Serpent—” Her voice was raspy and little more than a whisper when she finally spoke. “Serpent took my sister and me to a cabin. I heard water. We could have been near the river. He tied each of us up in different rooms. I was worried about Sarah, but no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get free.”
She swallowed hard. “I... I pretended to be asleep when he checked on me. When light filtered through the window the next morning, he forced me to swallow a pill. I spit it out, but he struck me and said he would kill Sarah if I didn’t take the drug. I pretended to do so and then coughed it up when he left the room. The next time, I wasn’t as lucky. He clamped my jaw closed until the pill dissolved in my mouth.”
Abram could only imagine the terror both Miriam and her sister had experienced. A rage against the two men grew within him.
“Days passed in a blur,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “I heard snippets of conversations. Some on the phone... One night a guy with a deep voice stopped by. I overheard just a portion of what they said. They kept mentioning trafficking and women. The night I escaped, another man came to the cabin. I saw him through the window. He was tall and skinny with red hair. He hauled Sarah away and Serpent said he was going to dispose of her.”
Abram took her hand and was relieved when she squeezed his fingers.
“When Serpent came to give me more drugs, I didn’t respond. He probably thought I was still sedated. Later, after what seemed like hours, I broke free from the rope that had held me. He had become complacent and had forgotten to attach the cord to the bedposts. I slipped outside and found the key to my car on the floorboards. He must have heard the engine start because he ran from the cabin before I pulled onto the main road.”
“But you escaped, Miriam.”
She nodded. “I was crazy with fear and so tired. I hid in the woods, but he found me and chased me. One of my tires had a blowout and my car almost ended up in the river. Somehow I got out and started running. Then I saw the light in your window.”
“Gott led you here.”
“I... I was worried when I saw you talking to the sheriff. Serpent said he would pin my mother’s death on me. He said all the cops in this area were working together with him. He said they would believe his story.”
“What he claimed has proven true, Miriam. Curtis Idler, the Willkommen deputy, said the police are searching for you. They suspect you killed your mother. Yet I do not understand how they could believe such an evil man with the serpent on his neck. He cannot be an officer of the law.”
“But his car had a flashing light and a sign that read Petersville Police Department.”
“The chief of police in Petersville is not to be trusted, so perhaps this Serpent, as you call him, is working with law enforcement, after all. I know my uncle will help you.”
“Then I must tell him what happened.”
Abram shook his head. “Samuel is traveling to Atlanta and will be gone for three days.”
“I can’t wait that long.” Miriam’s voice was insistent. “Serpent needs to be stopped now, before he hurts anyone else.”
Emma hurried into the kitchen and stared at both of them. “Forgive me. I thought you had finished talking.”
“You are right, my sister. We have finished our conversation.” Abram released hold of Miriam’s hand and stood. “Tomorrow we will go to Willkommen.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow, Miriam. Until then, you will stay with Emma and me.”
FIVE (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139)
Miriam shook her head with frustration as she thought about what terrible things could have befallen her sister. She needed to find Sarah as quickly as possible.
“You are upset with my brother,” Emma said, drawing close. She placed a comforting hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “He is worried about your well-being.”
“Did you hear that the Petersville police suspect me of killing my own mother?”
Emma nodded and pointed to the small holes drilled through the ceiling. “The heat from the stove rises to warm the bedrooms. Abram’s voice travels, as well. I tried not to listen, but I could not help but overhear what he said to you.”
Miriam gazed into Emma’s blue eyes, not nearly as crystal clear as her brother’s but bright and filled with understanding. “How could they think I would do that? There is no evidence.”
“Except this man who held you captive. You do not know the lies he has told.”
Pulling in a ragged breath, Miriam fought the tears that welled up. She wiped her hand over her face and struggled to control her upset. “I’m usually not this fragile.”
Emma raised her chin and smiled. “I see strength when I look at you, Miriam. Not weakness. That is why you and Abram butt together. He is not used to a woman who speaks her mind.”
“Am I that demanding?” she asked.
“Demanding is not the word I would use. You see things one way. Abram sees them another way. Soon, you will learn to work together.”
“We could work together if he would take me to Willkommen.”
“But what good would it do if the Petersville police arrest you?”
Emma patted Miriam’s shoulder.
“Those who want to do you harm and those who suspect you of a crime would not think to find you here,” the Amish woman continued. “You must remain hidden from view. Abram is a man of his word. Tomorrow, he will take you to Willkommen.”
The clip-clop of a horse’s hooves sent both women to peer out the window. Emma grabbed Miriam’s hand when Abram appeared, guiding the horse and buggy to the back porch. “It seems my brother has changed his mind.”
Miriam squeezed Emma’s hand and then opened the door before Abram climbed the stairs to the back porch.
“We’re going to town?” she asked, her heart overflowing with gratitude.
“Yah. Nellie is hitched and waiting. We will talk to Samuel’s deputy, Curtis Idler. If my uncle left him in charge, then we can trust him.”
“You both must be careful,” Emma cautioned. “What if this Serpent is prowling about?”
“Hopefully he won’t look for a woman in Amish clothing,” Miriam said.
“Wear my bonnet.” Emma pulled the wide-brimmed hat from the wall peg. The shape reminded Miriam of what pioneer women wore to the keep the sun off their faces.
“We must hurry.” Abram removed the black cape from a second peg and wrapped the heavy wool around Miriam’s shoulders. Emma helped tie the bonnet under her chin.
“There is a blanket in the buggy if you are cold.” He opened the door wider. “We will leave now.”
Miriam’s heart raced, knowing she could be in danger. At least Abram would be with her.
He helped her into the buggy. “Sit in the rear,” he suggested. “You will be out of sight there.”
She crawled onto the second seat and nodded to Emma as the horse started on the journey to town.
Abram sat in the front, the reins in his hands and his focus on the road.
Was Miriam making a good decision? Or would she regret leaving the refuge of Abram’s home?
* * *
Abram’s neck felt like a porcupine with his nerve endings on alert. With each breath, his muscles tensed even more as he sensed a looming danger, although he did not know from where the danger would come.
Maybe he was being foolish to leave the security of his home and travel to town. Out in the open, anything could happen.
He flicked his gaze over his shoulder to Miriam. Her eyes were wide, her face drawn. She clasped her hands as if in prayer and looked like a typical Amish woman with her black cape and bonnet. Then her gaze turned to him and a bolt of current coursed through him, as palpable as the lightening that looked ready to cut through the darkening sky.
Why did this woman—this Englisch woman—affect him so?
He turned his focus back to the road and lifted the reins ever so slightly. Nellie always responded to the slightest movement of his wrists and today was no exception. The mare increased her pace, the sound of her hooves on the pavement as rhythmic as a heartbeat.
Abram eyed the darkening sky. If only they could outrun the rain that seemed imminent. A harbinger of what would come?
“The day is turning dark,” Miriam said from the rear. “What happens if it storms?”
“Sometimes we find shelter. Today we will continue on.” Although, he knew Nellie could be skittish if lightning hit too close and thunder exploded around them. He would not share his concern with Miriam. From the tension he heard in her voice, she was worried enough.
Approaching a bend in the road, Abram pulled back on the reins and slowed Nellie’s pace. He wanted to ensure nothing suspicious appeared ahead of them as they rounded the curve. His gut tightened when he spied police cars in the distance swarmed around a buggy. His pulse thumped a warning and his throat went dry.
“What is it, Abram?” Miriam leaned forward. Her hand touched his shoulder.
“A roadblock. There are a number of Petersville police cars and a deputy’s car from Willkommen. It appears they are searching a buggy.”
“What can we do?” she asked, her voice faltering.
He yanked on the reins. Nellie made a U-turn in the roadway and began retracing the route they had taken.
“The Petersville police suspect you murdered your mother. We must return home.”
Moments later a car engine sounded behind them. Abram glanced around the side of the buggy. A black sedan with a flashing light on the roof was racing toward them.
“We are being followed. The car looks like the one I saw the night you escaped.”
“It’s Serpent.”
Once they rounded the bend, Abram steered the buggy to the edge of the road and pulled back on the reins.
“You must hide.” He pointed to a thicket. “There, in the woods.”
Miriam crawled to the front of the buggy and held Abram’s outstretched hand as she climbed to the pavement.
“Hurry,” he warned. “Go deep into the woods. Find cover there.”
Abram’s heart pounded as he watched her flee, knowing he had made a terrible mistake. They never should have left the security of his house.
The black sedan raced around the bend and pulled to a stop. A man dressed in a navy shirt and khaki pants stepped to the pavement. He slapped Nellie’s flank as he approached Abram.
“What is it you want?” Abram asked.
The man wore a scarf around his neck. Although muscular, he had small eyes with drooping upper lids, flattened cheeks and a short, upturned nose. His mouse-brown hair was thin on top but long on the sides.
“Why’d you turn your buggy around?” he demanded.
Abram pointed to the sky. “The clouds are dark. Rain is in the air. I do not wish to drench my buggy, my horse or my clothing.”
The man stepped closer and peered past Abram into the rear of the carriage. “Someone was with you?”
“As you can see,” Abram tried to assure him, “I am alone.”
The man turned his gaze to the forest. He took a step forward. “There. I see movement.” Just that fast, he ran toward the thicket exactly where Miriam had gone moments earlier.
Abram hopped from the buggy and started to follow.
A second car, this one from the Willkommen sheriff’s office, pulled up behind the black sedan.
“Abram, stop.”
He turned, spotting Ned Quigley, the newly hired sheriff’s deputy.
“Did you see the guy driving the black sedan?” the deputy asked.
Abram beckoned him forward. “He ran into the woods.”
“Stay with your buggy,” Quigley said. “I’ll find Pearson.”
Pearson. Evidently Serpent had a name.
Abram ignored Quigley. He would never stay put when Miriam was in danger.
He pushed through the bramble. The deputy followed close behind.
Pulling in a ragged breath, Abram searched the forest. He had to find Miriam. He had to find her before Serpent did.
* * *
Miriam’s heart nearly exploded in her chest, seeing Serpent follow her into the woods.
She couldn’t outrun him, but where could she hide?
Her breath hitched and a roar filled her ears, nearly drowning out his footfalls as he trampled through the underbrush.
Overhead thunder rolled and the forest darkened with the encroaching storm.
A lump filled her throat and she struggled to keep the tears at bay. She couldn’t cry. Not now, not when she needed to outsmart the snake that was so heinous.
More footsteps sounded. How many men were searching for her?
Abram had been right. She should have stayed undercover at his farmhouse instead of throwing herself into harm’s way. More thunder rumbled as ominous as the situation she was in.
A cluster of rocks was visible through the pines. Would they provide a hiding spot?
Carefully she picked her way through the bramble, averting the twigs and branches that would snap if she stepped on them. Any sound would alert Serpent.
She gulped for air, her lungs constricting with the tension that made her hands shake and her heart lurch.
Careful though she tried to be, her foot snagged on a root. She toppled forward and caught herself just before she landed in a pile of dried leaves. Thankfully, at that very instant, a bolt of lightning crashed overhead and a blast of thunder covered the sound of her fall.
Regaining her footing, she scurried behind the rocks, willing herself to meld into the outcrop of granite. The skies opened and rain fell in fat drops that pinged against the rocks, the trees and the floor of the forest.
A deep guttural roar sounded, like a wild beast’s bellow. Serpent was standing only a few feet away on the other side of the rock, venting his anger. If only he would be deterred from coming closer.
More footsteps. Her heart nearly ricocheted out of her chest. She flattened her hands and cheek against the granite trying to disappear into the stone.
“I know you’re here.” Serpent’s voice, laced with fury.
Could he hear her heart beating uncontrollably in her chest?
“Pearson?” another voice called, deep and demanding.
Serpent grumbled.
“There he is.” Abram’s voice.
Relief swept over Miriam.
“You’re on a wild-goose chase,” the first man said as he drew closer.
“I saw something,” Serpent replied.
The deep-voiced man snickered. “You saw that skunk standing at your backside.”
“What!” Serpent groaned.
The putrid and unmistakable stench of a skunk’s spray filled the air.
Leaves rustled wildly, followed by the sound of footsteps racing back to the roadway.
“Looks like Pearson learned his lesson about chasing varmints in the woods.” The deeper voice chuckled.
“He has other lessons to learn,” Abram said, his tone sharp and without the joviality of the other man’s. “Tell him to leave me alone.”
“I’ll tell him,” the man answered. “Although I doubt it’ll do any good.”
The voices became fainter, but even though the danger subsided, Miriam continued to tremble. Serpent had been too close.
Abram would come to get her, she felt sure, when the men had left the area. She and Abram would return to the farmhouse where she would remain until the roadblock was lifted.
But would Serpent continue to search for her? And if he found her, what would happen then?
SIX (#ue06aa252-b2ab-588f-8393-180bd5cd8139)
The next morning Miriam stood at the kitchen window and peered at the mountain road, searching for any sign of a dark sedan. Yesterday Abram had returned to the woods and found her as soon as the two lawmen had left the area. Grateful though she was, Miriam was still concerned about her safety.
She had risen early to help Abram’s sister. Apples needed to be peeled and pies baked for market, but the nervous churning in her stomach made her want to hide upstairs, away from the peering eyes of anyone who might pass by the farm.
Emma seemed oblivious to Miriam’s anxiety and chatted amicably as she worked. Stepping away from the window, Miriam wrapped her arms around her waist, debating how to still her unease.
“As I mentioned last night, I have many pies to bake,” Emma said as she placed a bowlful of apples on the table. “You will help me?”
Longing to allay the tension that tightened her shoulders, Miriam reached for the apple peeler. Using her hands would be therapeutic and might take her mind off the man who wanted to do her harm. Plus, Emma and Abram had provided her safe lodging. The least she could do was to help with the baking.
After peeling more than a dozen apples, Miriam heard Abram outside and, stepping to the sink for a drink of water, she peered from the window. “Does your brother ever stop working?”
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