Hopkins, Karen Ann - Paper Roses

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PAPER ROSES

Karen Ann Hopkins

© 2017 Karen Ann Hopkins All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1546721371 ISBN 13: 9781546721376

Books by Karen Ann Hopkins The Temptation Novels in reading order TEMPTATION BELONGING FOREVER DECEPTION JOURNEY (coming in 2018)

Wings of War in reading order EMBERS GAIA TEMPEST ETERNITY

Serenity’s Plain Secrets in reading order LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER WHISPERS FROM THE DEAD SECRETS IN THE GRAVE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT PAPER ROSES

This one is for my fans. Without your love of Serenity’s world, this book would never have been written. Thank you for the steady stream of encouragement. Your enthusiasm inspires me and keeps me writing.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many thanks to my hard-working editor, Amanda Shofner, and to Heather Miller for her stellar proofreading skills. A special thank you to Jenny Zemanek of Seedlings Design for another amazing cover. I’m very blessed to have the considerable skills of such professionals to help create my books. As always, much appreciation and love to my husband, Jay, and five children, Luke, Cole, Lily, Owen and Cora, for all their continued support and encouragement. The seasons in the sleepy Amish community I live in are measured by the planting and harvesting of crops, the spring and autumn schoolhouse benefit dinners, and the smell of wood smoke in the air during wintertime. I’m thankful that I found this place of buggies, open fields and honest, hardworking people, and for the inspiration it’s give me in my writing.

CONTENTS

Prologue 1 Serenity 2 Serenity 3 CJ 4 Serenity 5 Serenity 6 CJ 7 Serenity 8 CJ 9 Serenity 10 Serenity 11 CJ 12 Serenity 13 CJ 14 Serenity 15 Serenity 16 CJ 17 Serenity 18 Serenity 19 CJ 20 Serenity 21 CJ 22 Serenity 23 CJ 24 Serenity 25 CJ

26 Serenity 27 CJ 28 Serenity 29 CJ 30 Serenity 31 CJ 32 Serenity 33 CJ 34 Serenity 35 CJ 36 Serenity

PROLOGUE

May 3, 2007 Blood Rock Amish Settlement, Indiana Maryanna King lifted her face to the warm breeze and sighed. What a lovely day for a wedding. Rather than thinking about her cousin, Amy, who’d just spoken her marriage vows in front of the entire community, the dreamy girl was imagining what her own wedding would be like someday and hoping the weather would be as pleasing. She plucked a dandelion from the grass, stretching her legs in front of her. Her dress was the same light shade of blue as the spring sky overhead, and it barely covered her ankles when she sat that way. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her. People were still filing out of the barn after the three-hour service, heading in a steady stream toward the house where supper would held. Small clusters of darkly clad men dotted the expansive yard while the women gossiped together in groups. Since Amy hadn’t asked her to be a server, Maryanna was free to sit back and relax. At first, she’d been a bit disgruntled at being left out, but her mama had reasoned that it was better to have the day to herself than to be sweating in the kitchen alongside the other girls. And as Maryanna leaned against the side of the buggy shed, smelling the roasting chicken wafting on the wind and spying on everyone, she agreed. She was only fourteen, and with the number of sisters and cousins she had, there’d be many weddings in the future that she’d be called upon to serve. When she was satisfied no one was paying her any mind, she clicked her feet together and grinned. Of course, before she’d ever enjoy her own wedding, she’d have to find a beau. She squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun to search the yard. Aden Grabill was standing with his usual gang of friends. Even at this distance she could see that his hat was crumpled on one side of his head. He

must have fallen asleep during the ceremony. No amount of dishevelment mattered to her, though. Aden was the most handsome boy in the community. His warm brown eyes matched his hair, and he was taller than the other boys. He was also kind to his younger siblings and worked hard on his family’s farm. He was perfect in every way. She blushed and dropped her gaze. Even though Aden didn’t know Maryanna existed, the girl was determined to make him her beau someday. Then they would be married—on a beautiful day just like this one. She smiled to herself and plucked the petals from the daisy. “Why are you sitting here by yourself?” Maryanna jolted up straighter, her heart skipping a beat. When she saw who had spoken, she sank down again. “Getting some fresh air before we’re all crowded together in there.” She gestured at the house. The boy dropped into the grass beside her. He was a year younger, although he’d experienced a growth spurt that winter and had gained a couple inches, matching her height. “What did that poor flower do to you?” His mouth broke into a lopsided smile. The dandelion in her hand did look rather tortured, and she tossed it aside. She ignored his attempt at a joke. “Are you hungry? They’ll begin serving any moment now. You better run along or you won’t find a seat,” she gently urged. His lips thinned as he regarded her boldly. When she frowned back, he shrugged before glancing away. She carefully took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shifting her gaze to her black tennis shoes. “I’d rather sit here with you—if you don’t care.” His voice cracked and he fell silent. Maryanna’s cheeks burned and her heart pounded. She caught a glimpse of Aden before he disappeared through the doorway with his friends. They would sit at a table with all the other boys. And when she roused herself and crossed the yard, she’d join the girls at a table alongside them. If she hurried, she might get a seat where she’d be able to peek at him during supper. The boy at her side had turned into a nuisance the past few months. He was always sneaking up on her, trying to get her attention. His stealthy abilities were quite nerve-wracking at times. When she turned to glower at him, her face softened instead. He was holding his breath, looking like a frightened rabbit. She’d known for a long time he was sweet on her, but seeing the look of desperation in his eyes, she became resolved. It would not be kind to allow him

to think there was any chance of them being together. Because there wasn’t. The nicest thing I can do is to be honest, she convinced herself. I have to stop feeling sorry for him. “I was hoping we could spend some time together—” he began, but she cut him off with a grunt and a raised hand. “Stop. Please, don’t say anything else.” She squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching her face, saying a silent prayer to God to give her strength. She rushed the words out, “I can’t talk to you anymore. We’re getting too old to be friends. I’ll be courting soon, and it isn’t proper.” His shoulders slumped and his head dropped. She reached out to pat his shoulder, but snatched her hand back before she touched him. My sympathy will only encourage him. Maryanna pushed herself up and reached into her pocket. She’d made the intricately folded paper rose for Amy in celebration of her marriage, but in that moment, she changed her mind. She’d give it to the boy as a symbol of the friendship they’d shared. “Here.” She held it out to him. “It’s a special flower—one that will never die.” The boy raised his eyes, but didn’t move. Maryanna forced a smile. “Please take it.” He opened his hand and she dropped the paper rose onto his palm. Once she was free of the gift, she whirled and left him. When she’d almost reached the house, she chanced a look back over her shoulder. The boy still sat in the shadow of the shed, clutching the paper rose to his chest.

1 SERENITY

July 7, 2015 Blood Rock, Indiana wiped the moisture from my brow, and then replaced my hat. The sun burned down on the grassy knoll that overlooked Blood Rock. From this vantage point I could just make out the red brick of the sheriff’s office. The three-story, white-washed courthouse loomed over the smaller building and cast a shadow on Nancy’s Diner directly across the street. My stomach growled when my eyes settled on the restaurant. Todd chuckled. “I can set a clock to the rumble of your stomach.” He held out his phone and pointed at the time. “Yep. It’s past dinnertime.” I thumped my head against the headrest, feeling his pain. My first deputy, Todd Roftin, was usually a thorn in my backside, but I couldn’t argue with him this time. “Why do they insist on coming up here during the hottest part of the day?” I asked, not for the first time. Todd scratched his buzzed head, tossing his hat on the dashboard. “They’re creatures of habit. And being at the university’s whim, they probably work on some old guy’s planned schedule, a guy who’s sitting in his air-conditioned office back in Indianapolis right now.” Todd grunted and cast a sideways frown. “I wonder what little Bailey is doing.” I turned my head and rolled my eyes before settling my gaze on the team of young people dressed in khaki shorts and red and gray t-shirts some thirty yards away. Four sifting trays were elevated on table-like contraptions in the center of the group. Three women bent over the tables, while two more women and four men gently dug perfectly symmetrical two-foot squares out of the earth. A bearded man sat a little further away, writing on clear plastic bags neatly arranged on a folding table in front of him. He was older than everyone else, and

I

wore glasses over his hooked nose. He occasionally removed his ball cap to wipe the sweat from his balding head. Staring at the man soured my mood even more. “She’s only a couple of weeks old. What else would she be doing, except eating, sleeping, and pooping?” I glanced at him from under my visor. Todd shook his head. “Ah, come on, Serenity. Babies do miraculous things every single day. Why, just yesterday, she smiled at me for the first time.” He shrugged. “She was smiling at her mamma a week ago. It’s those types of milestones I don’t want to miss.” “At this age it’s gas—not a milestone.” I smirked, leaning further out of the cruiser to better catch the breeze. “You just wait until you have a little one to brag about. I’m going to give you hell.” I snorted, sitting up. “That won’t be for a long time, if ever.” “What about Daniel? Doesn’t he want to have kids?” This type of nosey questioning was the reason Todd had been driving me crazy since middle school. He never knew when to shut up. I shot him a look that made him lean away and lick his lips. “We just got engaged. Unlike you and Heather, we’re going to do everything in the proper order—engagement, marriage, then kids—maybe.” His cheeks darkened and his eyes widened, and I sort of felt bad. Not giving him a chance to say something sarcastic, I rushed out, “Besides, I told you to take another week off to be with your wife and child.” Forcing my voice softer, I added, “It isn’t every day you have a baby.” Todd’s face lost some of its tightness, and he blew out a quick breath. “Heather said I was annoying her, and I needed to go back to work.” He tilted his head. “Can you believe that?” I couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up. “I’m the wrong person to ask that question.” He ignored me, returning his attention to the college kids. He motioned their way. “Shouldn’t Mrs. Burgsley be out here babysitting them?” “She’s still feeling under the weather.” I sighed, thinking back to the elderly woman’s first and only day with the archeological crew. She’d only lasted an hour in the hot sun before she’d fainted. “I’m not sure she’ll be back up here.” Todd rolled his neck, audibly popping it. “I can’t imagine they have the resources to chase this fool’s errand very long. How many years has it been since the massacre took place—about two hundred?” “Professor Cedric Mullens—” I lifted my chin in the direction of the man sitting at the table. “—says he believes from a few old letters he discovered in

the statehouse archives it happened around 1791, so about two hundred and twenty-four years ago. He’s the founder of a historical truth finding and preservation society, working in conjunction with the University. From what the mayor said, the group is well-funded through private donations.” “Don’t get me wrong. Finding out what actually happened and if the legend is really true, is pretty incredible. But I don’t know if it’s possible. It’s the ultimate cold case.” My gaze wandered over the grassy area away from the SUVs and pickup trucks. The knee-high grass swayed in the breeze, stretching up to and over the rocky edge that dropped down to the river. I tried to imagine the story that Elayne Weaver, the county’s new assistant DA, and a woman who used to be Amish, told me a few weeks ago at the diner. …the settlers were having regular run-ins with the Native Americans and they lived in constant fear of raids and abductions. When some criminal-cowboy types decided to take matters into their own hands, shooting up a Native American family down by the river. The Native Americans were stirred into a blood lust. It all came to a head one Sunday morning. A group of settlers were having their morning service up on the hill above town. Their preacher was calling out the word of God while standing on a giant boulder when the arrow pierced his heart. It’s said the Native Americans killed twenty-six men, women, and children on that day…and took scalps from them all. Despite the sweat beading on the back of my neck, I shivered. Shaking the sudden chill away, I turned to Todd. “Do you really think a massacre took place in this very spot?” Todd leaned in and lowered his voice. “Sure do.” He gestured toward the river. “Where do you think those great big rocks came from? There’s nothing like them boulders anywhere up and down the river near here.” He nodded solemnly. “Afterwards, the Native Americans piled the settlers’ bodies high on that boulder, to mock the white man’s God. It was a gruesome sight for the first people to climb the hillside, looking for their neighbors and friends. The rock was permanently stained from all the blood that flowed that day. It makes sense that the survivors would have wanted rid of the object that reminded them of that day. They dynamited it and used horses or oxen to pull the pieces into the river bed.” “But—” Todd interrupted me, holding two fingers in the air. “The part of the story that I wonder about, even more than the mass killing, are the outlaws who attacked the Native American family—whatever happened to them?” I dropped my own voice to match his serious tone. “I’ve heard tales that

their ghosts haunt this overlook, along with the men, women, children…and the lone Golden Retriever murdered here.” Todd’s eyes grew round and his mouth fell open. I couldn’t stop the smile from erupting on mine, followed by a giggle that turned into a guttural laugh. “You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that. This is a sacred place.” His eyes shifted to peer out the window. “Angry spirits might be hanging around up here.” After seeing an Amish man heal an injured boy, in what I could only describe as an otherworldly event, I couldn’t completely scoff at the afterlife. But ghosts, no way. I wasn’t going there. I was about to chastise Todd when the sound of several whoops called out. A few students were practically jumping up and down and the rest were bent over the sifting trays. Professor Mullens leaped from his table to join them. Todd was out of the cruiser a second sooner than me. When we reached the group, the excitement in the crowd was palpable. “What’s going on?” I regretted the harshness in my voice when one girl’s broad smile disappeared and she stepped away from me. “Come here, Sheriff, quickly!” Professor Mullens waved his hand. I strode to his side, with Todd on my heels. The archeologist handed me a clear baggie. “Do you know what those are?” he asked. I held the bag up for closer inspection. “Arrowheads,” I said confidently. Professor Mullens smiled in a smug way that made my breathing slow. I lifted an eyebrow. “Good guess, but these are actually spear heads. The two are commonly mistaken by laypersons like yourself.” He plucked another bag off the table. “This is churt.” I stared silently at the man’s eager face, but my partner spoke up. “That’s the stuff the Native Americans used to make spears, right?” Professor Mullens nodded vigorously. “Yes, and other tools.” My patience slipped, and I handed the bag of spearheads back to him. “People find these things all time. An Amish farmer in the county found one a lot bigger last year, and it’s on display in a glass box in our local library. What’s the big deal about these particular ones?” Professor Mullens pulled his cap from his head, smoothed his bald spot and returned the cap before taking a deep breath. I’d managed to get under his skin. “Finding the spearheads at a location we suspect as a mass grave is intriguing for sure, but it’s what we just discovered that is our real breakthrough.” He motioned to the other tray, where several small brown objects

lay. My heart pounded and I strained to breathe. I had enough forensic training to know what they were. Bone fragments.

2 SERENITY

A

gust of wind whipped up the hillside, and the students, clutching their caps to their heads, darted to the table to hold the baggies and papers down. I eyed Todd. He was too busy gaping at the bones to notice. “Oh, yes, I’ll send these back to the lab today,” Professor Mullens chirped. “We’ve also found pottery chips—we’ll need to get them dated as well. This site is a treasure trove of activity. I should have worked on this grant much sooner.” Clouds passed over the sun, darkening the sky and sending long shadows across the field. A moment ago, I would have welcomed the change of weather, but now, glancing around, my skin crawled with made-up images darting through my mind. I could almost hear the screams of the settlers on the wind. Perhaps the legends were true—and our quaint little country town of Blood Rock was the site of a horrific massacre. I forced away the lurid thoughts with a headshake. “Will you be wrapping up the investigation then?” Professor Mullens’ wide-eyed reaction made him look owlish. I explained, “You seem to have enough artifacts to keep you busy for a while.” A young woman handed the professor a plastic bag and he gently slid the bones into it. He didn’t look up when he spoke. “You’re going to be stuck with us for a while longer, Sheriff. These pieces are just the tip of the iceberg.” He straightened his back, a wide grin taking up most of his face. “We might have discovered a mass burial plot here. We’ll keep digging until all the pieces of the puzzle come together, and the story of what happened here is finally told.” My stomach rolled at the man’s brisk, upbeat attitude about uncovering a possible gravesite containing the remains of dozens of people brutally murdered. It all hit a little too close to home. Only two months earlier I’d shot dead a killer who’d taken six lives at an Amish wedding for no other reason than a jealous grudge. Images of blood-soaked flowers and tablecloths still kept me up at night.

Yeah, we got our guy and solved a cold-case murder, but those fine people weren’t coming back. Their lives ended in the most horrible way. Just like the settlers, who up until today had merely been legend around here. My face warmed and I narrowed my eyes at Professor Mullens. “This isn’t a happy occasion. If what you suspect is true, a lot of innocents died here, and that’s not something to be celebrated.” I crossed my arms. “Regardless of what you dig up, the truth of what really happened can never be completely revealed without witnesses. And that’s something you’ll never have in this case.” Professor Mullens tilted his head. “On the contrary, Sheriff. The dead will speak to us through what we uncover in this field. When we’re finished, we’ll have a good picture of the events that took place on the hill. Sometimes legends that are passed down from generation to generation aren’t so far from the original truth as one would think.” “And sometimes the truth that comes to light may be a completely different story than what everyone expects.” I turned on my heels and gripped my hat to my head when another gust slammed into me. I called over my shoulder. “I’ll have Deputy Jeremy Dickens spend the rest of the afternoon with you.” I stopped and made eye contact with the professor. “Keep me posted if you uncover anything else of interest.” I motioned at the tarps folded neatly on the ground. “You might want to get those ready. Looks like a storm is heading this way.” The professor’s voice carried on the wind. “No worries! You’ll be one of the first people I call.” Wind battered my back until I reached the cruiser and climbed in. Todd started the engine, but didn’t put it in gear. “You better call Jeremy. The mayor wants someone up here with these kids at all times,” I said, leaning back, glad to be in the car and away from the excavation site. “Yeah, sure,” Todd mumbled. His distracted tone got my attention. “What?” I demanded. Todd rubbed his chin. “All those campfire stories that my granddaddy and uncles told me were true. Our town got its name from a bloody massacre.” I shrugged off the chill that swept over me. I’d grown up with the same tales, and sometimes they’d kept me up at night as a child. “I learned a long time ago, some things are better left unknown,” I said quietly. “Are you kidding?” Todd’s brow arched. “Don’t you want to know what happened to those settlers?” I took a deep breath, remembering all the cases I’d worked on, and how

none of them turned out the way I’d thought. Sometimes uncovering the truth wasn’t pleasant. “The stories are pretty black and white—a bunch of Native Americans massacre a congregation as revenge for the killing of their own. Of course, there are variances to each retelling, but the gist is always the same.” “So…why is that a problem?” “Because murder and mayhem are never that straightforward. You know that.” I leveled a hard look at him. “I hope I’m wrong, but the real story might be even worse than the sickening ones we grew up with.” He shook his head. “Damn, Serenity. Does everything have to be ominous with you? Sometimes things are just bad—and they don’t have to get worse.” My phone vibrated, saving me from having to list off why I had such a bleak mind. Ignoring his question, I pulled the phone from my pocket. “Is Daniel missing you?” Todd tried to change the subject. “Nope. He’s working on the old hotel downtown. It’s a big job—should keep him and his crew busy for a while.” Jeremy parked beside us and Todd put down his window. “Some action today over at the site—make sure you go check it out.” Todd called over to the other officer. “Will do,” Jeremy replied, tipping his hat. I nodded his way, but didn’t bother to say anything to the young officer. He was way too curious and the news about the bones would have turned into a twenty-minute conversation that I didn’t have time for. I was hungry and running late as it was. Todd must have read my mind. He started the engine and turned down the gravel road, that led back to town. “Where are we heading, boss?” “You’re going to finish the paperwork from yesterday’s accident report, and I’m heading out to the Amish community.” “Something I should be worried about?” He tensed visibly and I smiled at him, understanding perfectly well his apprehension at my mention of the Plain people. “Naw. I’m just going to visit an old friend and see how she’s faring out there.” “She?” Todd’s brows rose above his large, reflective sunglasses. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it at lunch tomorrow.” “Well, be careful.” He nodded out the window. “The sky’s pretty dark out that way. I bet the storm will hit there first.” I followed his gaze, staring at the billowing clouds in the distance. Lightning jetted through the haze and my heart raced.

I wasn’t surprised. Storms always seemed to hit the Amish settlement first. I just hoped the turbulent weather wasn’t a sign of trouble ahead.

3 CJ

I

grabbed another apple slice from the bucket and sprinted over to the fence before the brown-faced cow followed the others that were moving away. “Here you go, boy…or girl.” I held out my hand as the cow stretched over the board to take the treat. The slimy, warm mouth made me smile and I bent down to take a closer look. Noticing the large udder, corrected myself. “Girl.” Wiping my hand on my jeans, I jogged back to the easel and sat on the wooden chair I’d carted out of the kitchen a couple hours earlier. I swiped my brush in the brown paint and went to work on the cow. I deftly made several strokes before my model mooed and ran to catch up with the herd. I leaned back and groaned. So much for enticing the animal with apples to get her to stand still. Reaching into the bucket, I popped a slice into my mouth and compared the landscape I was painting to the actual scene spread out before me. Several hillsides gently sloping together provided a rolling effect that was quite pleasing. Large oaks and other trees dotted the fields, and about thirty cows, a mixture of babies and mothers, followed well-worn meandering paths through the grass. The sky had changed from sun and puffy white clouds to fastmoving gray ones with dark edges. At the stiff, cooler breeze, I zipped up my green hoodie and reluctantly began packing up my brushes and paints. The sky was murky and threatening— perfect for my mood and the painting—but I couldn’t risk the canvas getting wet. I glanced at the large back window. My spirits lifted when I realized I could set up in the living room and finish my first country landscape there. The approaching storm would give depth to the painting that I hadn’t been able to achieve all morning. The flash of lightning, followed by a loud crack, got me moving even

quicker. I tossed the supplies into the tote and carefully lifted the easel, when I heard a shrill squeal. The sound stopped my heart. A fat pony galloped down the driveway with a little girl clinging to its neck. A slightly larger girl chased after it, yelling out in the Amish language. I didn’t need to know the language to understand what was going on. I dropped everything and ran to the driveway, hoping to intercept the runaway animal. Waving my hands, I darted in front of the little beast. “Whoa!” I yelled, fearing the pony wouldn’t listen to me. The small rider squealed again as the pony thundered closer, aiming straight for me. I froze. The child’s eyes were as large as saucers and tears wetted her red cheeks. As she came abreast of me, she flung her arms at me. I swallowed my heart and reached for the girl as the pony swerved, dashing around me. My hands closed around the girl and I yanked her from the flapping saddle. She was small, but still hit me like a forty-pound brick. We toppled, my back hitting the gravel driveway as I shielded the child. When it was all over, I lay flat on my back with a child I didn’t even know gripping me like a little crab. I caught a glimpse of the backside of the pony as it disappeared from sight. The sound of its hooves striking the pavement gradually lessened until the countryside was quiet once again. “Tut mir leid, tut mir leid.” The girl, who I guessed to be around five, cried into my chest. The older girl came to a jolting stop next to us, rushing out more foreign words between gasps for breath. She jerked her younger sister off me with more strength than I would have expected for her size. “Sylvia, Geh es dir gut?” she said, wiping the child’s face with her apron. I pushed up, keeping an eye on the sky that had just darkened considerably. A bolt of lightning pierced through the clouds and a tingle of electricity shot through the air. A few large drops hit my face. I jumped up, wrapping my arms around the girls just as the sheets of rain struck. Sylvia recovered from her pony wreck, dashing in front of me. Her sister burst away from us, reaching the front porch steps seconds ahead of us. Rain pounded on the tin, sounding like a million hammers striking the roof. The sudden downpour had caused a temporary stream down the middle of the driveway, taking gravel with it. Sylvia wrapped her arms around my legs and clung for dear life. The older sister leaned in close, staring at the water-drenched world. “I hope Ranger will be all right.” The girl sniffed, craning her neck to look toward the road.

I was about to attempt words of comfort, when Sylvia let go just long enough to turn to her sister and shout over the storm, “He’s a mean pony! Don’t care if he never comes back.” I belatedly realized the girls were speaking English and wondered if it was for my benefit or something they just naturally switched between. But seeing the older girl’s round, blue eyes fill with tears, I let the thought go and searched for the right words. I kind of agreed with Sylvia about the little beast. He was mean. “I’m sure a pony as robust as Ranger is doing just fine in this weather—he probably even likes it.” The girl narrowed her eyes at me, so I added, “He’ll be back. I’d bet money on it.” The girl sullenly looked away. “You’re not supposed to bet on things.” I hid my smile with the back of my hand. Now I was being lectured by a child? Could the day get any better? I held out my hand. “We haven’t been officially introduced. I’m CJ. I know this is Sylvia.” I gave the child still clinging to me a quick squeeze. “What’s your name?” “Nora.” She put her hands on her hips, flashing attitude that I didn’t think an Amish kid would possess. Her green dress was almost the same shade as my hoodie and its bottom flapped in the wind. “And that was my pony.” She lifted her chin, glaring at Sylvia, who, seeing her sister’s angry look, buried her face into my leg harder. I began to get the gist of what happened—and why Sylvia was wrapped around my leg. She was frightened of the storm—but she was even more terrified of her sister. With an older sister of my own, I sympathized. I tried to ease the tension between the two girls. “I’m sure Sylvia didn’t plan on Ranger running off with her. She was very lucky she wasn’t seriously hurt,” I offered. A flash of light combined with a loud rumble made the three of us jump, but Nora’s face remained hard. “I tied Ranger up to the hitching rail while I went in the barn to get a sip of water from the spigot. I told Sylvia to stay away from my pony, and she ignored me.” Sylvia came away from my knee and faced Nora. A few unintelligible words tumbled from her mouth before she switched to English. “…wasn’t my fault. I just wanted to sit on him.” She shook her head vigorously. “He’s a mean pony!” “Don’t you say that about Ranger.” Nora took a step closer. The hard downpour slowed to a steady rain and the branches of the maple tree at the corner of the house popped back into place when the wind lessened. The stream still rushed down the driveway, but the thunderclaps were getting

further away. I breathed a little easier. The storm was moving off. “Now girls, let’s not argue.” I placed a hand in between Nora and Sylvia. The clip-clops raised all our heads. A buggy pulled by a black horse with an equally black pony tied to the back turned onto the driveway and came to a halt in front of my little white rental house. The horse tossed its head and the pony snorted. The rain was just a drizzle when my landlord, Joshua, climbed out of the buggy and headed for the porch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an elderly woman making her way down the driveway, carrying a large umbrella. But I didn’t look at her for long. Joshua Miller’s tall, dark-clad and daunting figure held my attention. He was not a happy camper. He yanked down his light brown beard before he spoke. “Why was the pony running down the middle of the road?” His sharp blue eyes passed from Nora to Sylvia and landed on me. My entire body heated and my heart pounded. How dare he use such a condescending tone, lumping me in with the kids. My mouth dropped open to set him straight, when Nora beat me to the punch. “It was Sylvia’s fault, Dat! She rode Ranger without permission and he ran off with her.” Joshua’s gaze shifted to Sylvia. He bent down, placing hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right, child?” Sylvia pointed at me. “The English woman saved me—she grabbed me off the pony and we fell together.” The girl’s English was a little stilted, but she’d spoken loud and clear. Joshua’s incredibly light blue eyes skimmed over my mud-soaked side and landed on my face. His lips twitched and his brow rose. “You assisted my daughters with the pony?” he asked quietly. His look of incredulity instead of the expected “Thanks” made me flush me with heat once more. The mad dash to the driveway and the near collision with the fat pony flashed through my mind. I inhaled, taking care to speak with a level tone. “I simply caught Sylvia as the pony ran by. No one was hurt. It wasn’t a big deal.” “It was a big deal!” Nora spoke up. “You should have seen how fast the English woman ran. And she stood her ground when Ranger galloped straight at her.” She shook her head slowly in a gesture that seemed more fitting for an adult than a child. “I thought she was a goner.” When Joshua looked curiously at me, I swallowed hard, wishing he wouldn’t stare like that. My stomach had tied into a knot of butterflies, making me feel like a silly teenager. I avoided his penetrating gaze.

“My name is CJ West,” I told the girls. “You don’t need to keep referring to me as the English woman.” “That’s a funny name,” Sylvia blurted out. Her father squeezed her shoulder and she frowned. “I’m sorry.” The little girl’s eyes bulged and she chewed on her lip worriedly. I smiled back. “It’s okay. You’re not the first person to say that. C stands for Camille, and J is for my middle name—Josephine.” “Camille…Josephine,” Sylvia practiced. A grin erupted on her pouty mouth. “That’s a pretty name!” “Why would you take a man’s name?” Joshua asked. His harsh tone told me he didn’t approve. Normally I would have shrugged the entire conversation off. But for some reason, this Amish man was getting under my skin. I licked my lips, trying to remain calm. It would probably have been easier if Joshua wasn’t tall and muscular, and if his features weren’t perfectly chiseled. He stood confidently, poised to attack, reminding me of a wolf. I hoped he didn’t see my cheeks flush. The sun poked out and the air took on the steamy, uncomfortable quality of a sauna. I squinted up, staring boldly back at Joshua. “It’s not a man’s name, just an abbreviation that’s easier to say.” I smoothed my unruly brown curls behind my ears, suddenly self-conscious about my rain-soaked appearance. I thought I saw a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth and then it was gone. “I suppose that makes sense.” The gray-haired woman finally reached us. She looked ancient and frail, but when she vigorously waived the umbrella, shaking off the water, I reassessed her strength. Her white cap was askew, and flour smudged the front of her black apron. She spoke harshly to the girls in the Amish language and they both took off running toward the main house. Her voice was softer when she addressed me. “Difficult children.” She sighed deeply. “Those girls were supposed to be helping me get the laundry in from the clothes line before the storm struck. I was watching from the yard and saw how you helped Sylvia off the pony. That was quick thinking on your part.” She wiped her hands on her apron and extended one for a handshake. “I’m Melinda Stuery. But everyone just calls me Nana.” She shot a look at Joshua. “I’m really too old to be raising young’uns, but life is unexpected for sure. I have a pot of chicken and dumplings on the stove. You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you?” Her last words surprised me and I replayed them in my head to be sure I’d heard right, glancing between the old woman and Joshua. The man’s eyes

widened, but he remained silent, staring at me. I was the first to break eye contact. “Thank you for the offer. That would be lovely, but I’ve already made plans to have lunch with my friend, Serenity.” “The Sheriff?” Nana asked and I nodded. “She’s busy, that one.” She gave a curt nod. “It’s good to have female companionship—might be the only thing that keeps us women sane.” She smiled crookedly to expose a few damaged teeth. “If you change your mind, we’ll be at the table at noon. Since we’re neighbors, we should get to know each other better.” I heard a vehicle coming up the driveway and I exhaled my relief. Being thrust into the Amish lives so abruptly had unnerved me. And the way Joshua’s gaze affected me made it even worse. “Of course—we’ll get together soon.” I nodded awkwardly and pivoted, walking briskly to Serenity’s car. “Getting to know your new neighbors?” Serenity grinned. “Oh, yeah,” I replied, filling her in about the runaway pony while the car idled. “We’re lucky the storm wasn’t worse. I heard there’s significant flooding in the next county over.” Serenity’s blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her work hat sat on the seat between us. Her eyes darted out the window and back again. “Are you okay?” I tilted my head. Serenity took a sip from her mug and eyed me. “The usual work stuff. Nothing major, really.” Her grin appeared again. “What about you? I see you’re becoming acquainted with the mysterious Joshua Miller.” I sank into the seat. “He makes me angry.” Serenity’s brows shot up. “It’s not anything that he’s done—more his attitude toward me.” I sighed loudly. “He looks at me like I’m an alien from another planet.” I watched the chickens pecking the ground beside the car. “Ryan was right to take up with another woman.” My eyes became wet, and I dabbed at them with my fingertip. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.” Serenity leaned in. “There is nothing wrong with you,” she said forcefully. “Mr. Miller was staring at you because you’re beautiful. And he’s not used to being around an English woman, either. All the Amish men act weird—it’s just the way they are.” “He’s different than I thought he’d be.” I shrugged. “The painting opportunities are amazing, but maybe I’ve made a mistake by coming here.” Serenity squeezed my hand in an unprecedented show of affection. I studied her, noticing for the first time that she’d changed a lot since she’d become sheriff of Blood Rock. She was still the toughest woman I knew, but she

was definitely softer around the edges. “I’m glad you’re here, CJ. I missed your company.” She put the car into gear. “It will get easier with the Amish. They’re damn creepy at first, but once they warm up to you, they start to seem more like everyone else.” I smiled, feeling a little lighter. “I shouldn’t think an Amish man is good looking, should I?” Serenity laughed. “Daniel used to be Amish. When I first saw him, my knees went weak. There’s no problem with admiring—just be careful.” She became stern. “You don’t want to get involved with a guy who’s still Amish. That would be a disaster. Trust me.” Serenity’s beeper and cell phone went off. She put the car in park and answered the phone. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other side was saying, but Serenity’s face turned ashen. I held my breath when she hung up. “Looks like you’re eating some chicken and dumplings with your neighbors.” Her words were steady, but strained. I searched her face. “Is it really bad?” Serenity frowned, deep lines framing her mouth. “It’s another dead Amish girl.”

4 SERENITY

I

stepped around mud puddles and ignored the flashing lights from Todd’s cruiser and the ambulance. The tractor path narrowed between clusters of trees. Water dripped from the leaves, making it feel as if it were still raining. The door leading into the ramshackle shed was open, but I had to push aside tree branches to enter. The interior was dim, the only light coming in from a broken window. Bobby Humphrey, Blood Rock’s coroner and a man who’d watched me grow up, bent over the body with a camera. Todd was at his side, peering over his shoulder, and the EMTs stood back in the shadows. Even in the low light I could see Raymond’s hand covering his mouth with his stare directed away from the body. Beth met my gaze for an instant before she shook her head and focused on her feet. I sucked in a deep breath and absorbed the grisly scene. My face chilled and my heartbeat slowed. Dammit, Serenity, get a grip. She’s dead—her suffering is over. The smell of blood made it worse. I was glad I hadn’t eaten lunch. Todd moved to give me more room, and I forced my feet to take the required steps to reach what was left of the girl. Her red hair struck me first. It was loose and tangled around her young face. Her white cap lay on the ground a few feet away. A layer of moldy-looking hay covered most of the floor, but a ten foot or so radius around the girl was mostly dirt, indicating a scuffle had taken place. She’d fought and died here. My gaze traveled to the gaping wound in her neck. The pool of blood made it difficult to tell for sure, but it appeared her neck had been cut from ear to ear. My mouth was dry as cotton and I shivered, but years of training and field experience kicked in, turning my heart to stone for the moment. It was difficult to tell where her ripped maroon dress ended and the blood

began. Her breasts and belly were slashed. Her entrails hung out, and what was left of her dress was pushed up to her hips. Scratches covered her bare legs. One of her black tennis shoes was still on and the other lay beside her foot. At first glance, it looked like the girl had been savaged by a wild animal, but I had my doubts. The dingy room was empty, except for a few tractor tires in the corner and some rusty tools strewn across a work table beneath the window. Thick dust covered the table and its contents. Nothing there appeared to be disturbed. The doorway I’d entered through was the only way in or out of the building. Bobby snapped several pictures in a row, and the bright flash made me blink. It took him a minute to straighten. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before facing me. “This girl hasn’t been dead very long.” His lips pinched together. “Perhaps ten hours, but at this point, I’d give the range of eight to sixteen hours.” “Do we know who she is?” I asked. Todd looked down at his notepad. “Makayla Bowman. She was identified by the neighbor, Charlie Saunders.” He glanced up and answered my next question before I opened my mouth. “He’s not Amish. He inherited this property —about two hundred acres—from his father a few years back. He lives in the little white house on the corner. Said he heard something early this morning that sounded like an animal squealing. He went back to sleep, but it had made enough of an impression to check things out when he got out of bed. That’s when he found her.” “Has her family been notified?” I pulled the notepad from my back pocket. Todd shook his head. “Deputy Thomas is at the house with Charlie— keeping an eye on him, until you tell me what to do.” “How did he know the victim?” My eyes drifted to girl. Her name was Makayla. And she died the most horrible way imaginable. Todd shrugged, but Beth stepped out of the shadows. “The Bowmans live right next door. They have a welding shop. My husband has had work done by them.” She lifted her chin toward the body. “I believe Makayla is the oldest daughter. She’s easy to remember with that hair, and she’s tall—an inch or so taller than me.” I looked at the girl, noticing her height for the first time. It was difficult to gauge when a person was on the ground. Beth’s face was ghost white and she looked like she might be sick. She and Raymond had more than a decade of combined experience on the job in Blood Rock, but nothing could prepare the two small town EMTs for a crime scene this

horrific. Unfortunately, I’d worked a few awful murder cases in Indianapolis— but nothing quite like this. “Why don’t you two wait outside?” I flicked my hand at the doorway. Nearly as one, they scooted around the body. Before they crossed the threshold, I said, “And don’t let anyone in until I give the word.” When I was alone with Bobby and Todd, I glanced between them. Bobby’s face was grim, and Todd looked like he was going to throw up. Now that it had stopped raining, the shed was becoming uncomfortably stuffy. “Any chance a wild dog did this?” My hand swept over the body. Bobby gave a quick, negative shake of his head. “The cuts to the throat, breasts and stomach were made with a sharp instrument. More than likely a knife of some kind.” “That’s what I thought…” My voice trailed off. We all stared at the body. “Was she raped?” “I won’t know until I perform the autopsy, but the state we found her in makes me think she was.” “I understand the rape, and then killing the victim for his own protection. But to butcher her like this? Why?” I looked at Bobby, but Todd leaned in to answer. “You’ve heard of Jack the Ripper, right?” Todd lowered his voice and his brows rose. “Of course. I studied the Whitechapel murders extensively in criminology classes.” I tried to ignore the chill that settled over me. “But what do the murders of five women, mostly prostitutes, in the late 1800s in England have to do with this poor girl?” Bobby answered. “The unbridled savagery of this crime is similar to the Ripper murders.” He knelt beside the body. He pulled a pencil from his pocket and pointed at the wound on the girl’s neck. “This is only preliminary assessment, mind you.” He took his gloved hand and carefully tilted the girl’s head to the side. “See this red mark?” Todd and I leaned in. “Looks like she was strangled with something thin—perhaps a cord. My gut says that’s what officially killed her. Of course, I won’t know for sure until I X-ray the body, especially the head for trauma.” “So, you’re saying he—” Todd interrupted. “Assuming it was a man.” I glared at him. “Granted there are females committing murders every day, most sadists are men. The forensic examination will tell us if she’s been raped, but for now, the pronouns I use for the monster who did this are going to be all masculine.”

“Fair enough,” Todd muttered. I continued my earlier thought. “You’re guessing this Amish girl was raped and then strangled to death.” Bobby nodded. “And she was carved up afterwards?” “That’s my working theory.” He shrugged. “It could change in the autopsy room.” I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to erase the image of the mutilated corpse. “Have either of you seen anything like this before?” I asked. Todd said, “Never.” Bobby twirled the end of his mustache between his fingers, taking his time. He finally grunted. “Personally, no. But we shouldn’t leave any stone unturned. A thorough search of the crime database for the neighboring states is a good idea.” I shifted in Todd’s direction and he said, “I’m on it, boss.” When Todd left, I stood beside Bobby, looking down at Makayla Bowman’s remains. “Take more pictures, Bobby. We have to go over this shed with a finetoothed comb before we remove the body.” Bobby nodded. I hugged my arms around myself. “How do I deal with the Amish on this one?” “The best we can,” Bobby said slowly. I swallowed. “I’ll find who did this.” “I have faith in you, Serenity. But it won’t easy. Whoever killed this girl is a very sick—and dangerous—individual.” For the first time since I’d entered the shed, I closed my professional eyes and reopened them to the grisly site, letting emotions flood in. Makayla Bowman had been a pretty girl with bright red hair and a speckling of freckles across her nose. She had pouty lips and full, round cheeks. The creases at the corners of her eyes told me she had smiled a lot. She was tall and slender, and at an age when she was probably courting someone—maybe she already had a wedding arranged. My eyes strayed to the gore and I imagined the Amish girl struggling with her assailant, crashing to the ground, and being violated. She would have been shocked and terrified. Her final moments were a nightmare beyond comprehension. And after she took her last breath, it hadn’t been over. Her beauty was mangled, almost unrecognizable. I promise I’ll bring you justice, Makayla.

Two questions burned in my mind. Why was Makayla targeted, and was her killer Amish?

5 SERENITY

M

y mouth dropped open at the hulking size of Charlie Saunders. He was not an ordinary man. The top of his head was only inches from the ceiling. At nearly seven feet, and with a large gut protruding from his ill-fitted, stained t-shirt, he was one of the largest men I’d ever seen. I thought back to a domestic assault case I’d been called to as a rookie. A man had come close to beating his younger brother to death. That guy had been a second-string college linebacker. Besides completely freaking me out, he’d made me think giants were real. Racking my eyes up and down Charlie, I decided he was more intimidating by far. His face was contorted and cruel looking. I tried not to pass judgment on him because of his appearance, but it was hard. When he answered my question, he was surprisingly soft spoken. “Sounded like a cat being skinned.” Charlie looked straight at me, not flinching. “That’s what I was expecting to find in the shed—a dead cat—not a disemboweled girl.” His nonchalant attitude disturbed me, but I treaded carefully, my pen poised over the notepad. “Did you recognize her?” “Sure did. Right off the bat. Not a lot of natural redheads around, you know what I mean?” I took a deep breath. Stale air wafted through the outdated kitchen. Dirty dishes overflowed from the sink, and petrified-looking pizza slices littered the counter. A cat slunk in and out of the room, rubbing against our legs and meowing. I stared at Charlie, swallowing down the first remark that popped into my head. “No, I don’t know what you mean. Can you elaborate?” He smiled at Todd in a conspiratorial you’re a guy, you get it sort of way. “I’m not real friendly with the Bowmans, but they’re all redheads. No bottled color on that girl.”

I stepped closer and craned my neck to look up at him. Todd moved with me. “You’re awfully calm about finding a young woman slaughtered on your property. Why is that?” His smile disappeared. His dark eyes trailed slowly over me as if he suddenly sensed I might be dangerous. “I’m used to butchered bodies. I work at the Hinton Slaughterhouse.” His eyes shifted to the top of the cupboards, where I could see the tip of a rifle sticking out. Dammit. I should have noticed it sooner. I could only blame the shock at the man’s size for the distraction. “I’m not too worried about whoever done it coming after me. I’m always prepared.” I exchanged a glance with Todd. Charlie definitely had issues. But was he Makayla’s killer? It just couldn’t be that easy. “Have you dealt with trespassers on the property before?” I watched him closely. “All…the…time,” he drawled. “Before I inherited the farm, Dad lived here in the house. He was old and sick and didn’t pay much attention to the goingson. But I found beer cans and used condoms in the barn and I even chased an Amish boy out of that shed about a month ago. The little bastard was sneaking a puff.” He snorted. “If those people weren’t so fucking prudish, he could’ve lit up at his own place.” I stopped writing. We’d found a few cigarette butts in the dirt near the door and taken them for evidence. “Do you know the kid’s name?” I held my breath. Charlie scratched his head. “Swanny—no Swarey. Monroe Swarey. His father is Nicolas.” I didn’t recognize the name and he noticed. “Over on Burkey Road—where they make them little cabins and sell them off the lot.” I nodded and wrote the information down. I’d seen the place. It was on the other end of the road from where my first Amish case started. That crime still haunted my dreams, but at least Naomi Beiler had died relatively quickly. Makayla wasn’t so lucky. “Anyone else hanging around that you haven’t seen before?” I asked. He looked like he was thinking, trying to remember. When he shook his head, I had the feeling he was telling the truth—at least about that question. Charlie wasn’t the type of guy to be easily rattled, but I still proceeded with caution. The last thing I wanted to do was give him the idea he was a suspect and have him take off. “Will you be at Hinton’s tomorrow?” I forced a smile. “Just in case we have any more questions?” “Yeah. I work all week.” He took the card I offered him and read it. “Be sure to wear your mud boots though, Sheriff Adams. The floors over there get

slick with blood and guts. Not the kind of things you’d want on your nice shoes.” “You can rein your sarcasm in, buddy. Or you might find yourself being hauled downtown,” Todd said, pointing a finger at Charlie. I grasped his shoulder and tugged. “Charlie was only giving us some good advice, weren’t you, Charlie?” He grinned, flashing yellow teeth. “Of course, Sheriff.” I welcomed the cooler air when we stepped out the door. “That asshole was playing us,” Todd growled. “I want someone trailing that S.O.B. Work out a schedule and put Deputy Thomas up first in an unmarked vehicle. Tell him to be discreet.” Todd nodded. “Do you think Saunders is our guy?” I stopped on the sidewalk, tucking a few stray hairs behind my ear. Clipclops on pavement broke the country stillness. “Oftentimes the person who calls the crime in committed it. He’s single, white, early thirties—fits the profile of a killer. But I get the feeling this one isn’t going to be as clear cut as that.” “It never is around here,” Todd said. He moved closer and lowered his voice, even though the EMTs had already left with the body and only three police cruisers remained, including Todd’s. I glanced at my watch. Bobby was probably preparing Makayla’s body for autopsy. “This one is really bad.” Todd sniffed and rubbed his face. I looked up at the blue sky. Bright sun shone down between puffy white clouds. The storm had passed as quickly as it had appeared. Birds were chirping and a light, warm breeze touched my face. The perfect afternoon was a lie. A terrible lie. Nothing was perfect or right in the world. A nineteen-year-old woman was dead—in the most brutal way possible. Pure evil did exist and a monster walked free. “We’ll find him,” I said. “We have to.” Todd removed his sunglasses. His eyes were bloodshot and moist. “This one is different.” His voice was rough. “My God, you saw what was done to that poor girl. We have a complete psycho on our hands.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s because I have my own little girl now, but—” His voice shook. “—I could barely hold it together in there. It was so awful…” I gripped his arm. “Pull yourself together, Deputy.” It stuck me like a bolt of lightning how important it was for me to keep my cool on this case. Todd was right. It was different than anything we’d faced before. We’d all need to keep our wits to find the monster who’d done this and bring him to justice. “As hard as

it’s going to be, we have to treat this like our other cases—gather information and go where it takes us.” Todd nodded. “I know. I know. But the parents—how are you going to tell them what happened to their child?” Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop. The sound grew louder as a buggy headed straight for us. Two more buggies followed. I drew in a shaky breath. “I’ll do it in the gentlest way possible. They don’t need to know everything. No parent should be told those details.” In truth, I just wanted to get it over with. A tall, slender man exited the first buggy. He had a flowing white beard, sharp features and bushy eyebrows. In the past, he’d given me the creeps. This time, seeing him approach with long strides made me breathe easier. Something about the arrival of the no-nonsense Amish bishop lifted the murky haze that had assailed my mind since I’d walked into the shed hours ago. He might be a pain in my ass most of the time, but he was a good man—a holy man. The type of person who might be able to help us get through this horror. I turned to Todd. “Place one of the officers back at the doorway of the shed. Even though we’ve cleared the area, I don’t want anyone going in there. I’m not taking any chances with this one.” Todd replaced his sunglasses, looking glad to have a task. Before he left, I stopped him. “Put another officer down by the road. I’m surprised the media isn’t all over this place. They’ll come, and we need to be ready.” Bishop Aaron Esch came to an abrupt stop in front of me as Todd hurried away. Even after all the years he’d been around the Amish, they still made him uncomfortable. I understood. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d felt the same way. “I’ve heard rumors, Sheriff.” The usually confident man licked his lips, pausing. “Are they true? Has young Makayla Bowman joined our Lord Father?” I looked past the bishop. Moses walked at a slower pace alongside another tall man. I didn’t know this man. But he did have red hair. Damn. Was I ready to do this? I focused on the bishop. “It’s true.” Although that’s a hell of a nice way to put it, I thought, frowning to myself. “What have you heard?” He didn’t hesitate. “That she was murdered.” A dog barked in the distance, and a picture of Makayla’s cut up corpse popped into my mind. I blinked. That morning I’d woken to Daniel’s hands touching me sweetly. After we’d made love, we’d taken our yipping puppy, Hope, out to the backyard for her potty time and then enjoyed a quick breakfast of English muffins, fruit, and orange juice. I’d looked forward to lunch with CJ. The only annoyance had been babysitting the excavating team. And now I had to

face the father of an Amish girl who’d been butchered. It seemed unreal. My future father-in-law stepped alongside the bishop. His face was drawn and somber. He knew. “This is Elijah Bowman—Makayla’s father.” Moses gestured at the man beside him. I shook Elijah’s hand. It was cold and sweaty. His hazel eyes were wild with fear. I was glad for my sunglasses. Tears welled in my eyes. I took a breath and searched for the stony, unemotional part of me that could deliver bad news without breaking down. “I’m so sorry to give you such terrible news, Mr. Bowman.” His mouth dropped open and the color drained from his face. “Your daughter is dead.” Moses removed his black hat and grasped Elijah’s shoulder. The bishop dropped his head. Silence. Horrible silence hung in the air as Elijah processed what I’d said. His tan face was still pale and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. Exactly the type of reaction I expected from a shocked and grieving parent. I remembered the rainy day I’d delivered the news about Naomi’s death to Timothy and Patricia Beiler. Their reactions had been overly subdued and that was one of the things that had made me wonder if the Amish couple had something to do with their daughter’s death. Elijah Bowman had nothing to do Makayla’s murder—that I’d bet on. “How?” Elijah choked out. I looked him in the eye. There was no beating around the bush on this one. My only hope was to keep the man from asking too many questions about exactly what had happened to his daughter. “She was murdered and discovered in the shed out behind this house by its owner, Charlie Saunders.” “Charlie found her?” Elijah said quietly. “Yes. Do you have any idea why she might have been in that shed?” I asked. Elijah’s mouth trembled. He was struggling to remain calm. “I have no idea. She’s our eldest child—a good child—dutiful and kind.” A faraway look came over his face. “She helped her mother with the laundry yesterday afternoon, and then bottle fed the orphaned calf. She ate dinner with us and read a Bible story to the younger children. She kissed her mother’s forehead before retiring for the night.” His eyes cleared. “That was last time I saw her—she smiled at me as she jogged up the stairs to her room.” I wrote down what he said and glanced up. Moses caught my eye and

shook his head. He wanted me to stop, but I couldn’t just yet. If any of these stoic, black-coated men had seen Makayla’s remains, they’d understand my urgency. “Was Makayla courting?” A surprised look flitted over his face. “Only for a month; she’d been promised to Abner Troyer.” Tears trickled down his narrow face. “The boy will be devastated.” “That’s enough questioning, Sheriff.” Aaron Esch tilted his head sideways. “Moses, go fetch your wife. The Bowmans will need her support.” He spread his arms around Elijah and gripped the other man. “See to your family. You must be strong for them. The Lord is with Makayla and there is no pain where she is— only love.” His voice rose higher. “Oh, to be in His presence. What glory that must be.” The bishop stepped back, but didn’t let go of Elijah until he’d searched the other man’s eyes. When he seemed content that Elijah would indeed be all right, he let go, pushing him gently toward Moses. Elijah took a few wobbly steps and stopped. “Where is she? Where is my girl?’ “We took her downtown. An autopsy will be performed, and then we’ll return her to you for burial. We’re taking good care of her, Mr. Bowman. I promise.” Elijah nodded and turned away. I watched his hunched figure make its way to his buggy. The only thing that would get his family through this tragedy was faith, and the Amish had plenty of that. I’d seen firsthand how strong their spirits were due to religion and community. I envied their Calvinist approach to life. They trusted God and they practiced what the Bible preached. They followed the way of grace when most sought vengeance. The wedding massacre, where six people including the bride and groom were gunned down, proved it. The congregation in that Pennsylvania settlement forgave the murderer. Tiredness swept over me. The man who killed Makayla Bowman didn’t deserve forgiveness. If I wasn’t constrained by the law, I’d make sure he suffered the same fate as his victim. “Now tell me exactly what happened to the girl. I’m the leader of this community and I should know what we’re dealing with,” the bishop said with a stern voice. Used to him demanding things from me, I didn’t let it bother me. “It was a savage crime.” I gestured for him to follow me, and we took the gravel lane to the shed. “We suspect she was raped.” I stared straight ahead, not

wanting to witness what I imagined to be complete horror on his face. “Her neck, breasts and stomach were cut.” We reached the small building and I waved the officer aside. Todd paced in the driveway, talking on his phone, probably letting Heather know what was going on. “We won’t know for sure until Bobby finishes the examination, but he thinks she was strangled first, and cut later.” We walked into the dimness of the shed. The bright yellow tape outlining where her body was found and the area around it contrasted brightly from the brownness of everything inside. “Can you think of anyone in the community, or outside of it, who might have wanted to harm Makayla?” “She was a sweet girl—never gave her parents or the elders any troubles.” The bishop scratched his beard and blew out a breath. “What you are telling me happened to her is pure evil—the likes of which I’ve never encountered. You must find the man who did this.” “You have my word. I’ll do everything in my power to find justice for Makayla.” “It’s not about justice.” He turned troubled eyes on me. “My people are in peril. Do you not see it?” A chill raced up my spine. The faint smell of blood still hung in the air. Not so long ago, right where we stood, Makayla had been tortured and murdered. “What are you saying?” His voice was harsh. “Satan was in this room. He did this—and he’s out there, Sheriff.” “You believe Satan murdered Makayla?” He nodded. I agreed with the bishop—a monster killed Makayla, and he was out there somewhere. But the idea that Aaron Esch believed the devil had literally committed the crime complicated things. The last thing we needed was the killer being portrayed as a superhuman beast. He was a man. A very demented man, but just a man. I took out my notepad and flipped the pages. Charlie Saunders—giant, in the right place at the right time, works at a slaughterhouse. Scary man…would fit right into a nightmare or a B-rated horror flick. Monroe Swarey—Amish kid who snuck into the shed to smoke a cigarette. Frequented the murder site, nothing else incriminating, yet. Abner Troyer—the new boyfriend. A total unknown, but may be a crime of passion. Always had to consider love interests. I added Satan to the list and closed the pad. “I’ll keep you posted, Bishop. But in the meantime, you should call an emergency meeting and ask everyone in the community if they know anything

that might help us solve this murder. And tell them to keep their kids close until we find this guy.” “You’re brave, Sheriff. I’ve seen you in action. But you can’t win this one on your own. God is with you. I can feel His presence in your life—through your actions. You must pray to Him for guidance. The only way to deliver us from this evil is through His light.” The bishop left and I stared at the place where Makayla had died. If praying helped me catch the sadistic man who murdered the Amish girl, I’d gladly do it. But unlike Bishop Esch, I doubted God was listening. I’d seen too many awful things on the job to be convinced that a higher authority was in charge. After all, if that was the case, why had this young woman suffered such a horrific death? Where was God when she was attacked? My cell phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket. Bobby. He wanted me at the morgue as soon as possible. He had some interesting findings. I rubbed my forehead. It was going to be a long night. The sun had dropped lower on the horizon, and beyond the doorway was the hazy grayness of the hour before dusk. Long shadows crept across the floor and the room darkened. I thought I heard keening. I strained to listen, but it was eerily quiet again. Chills pricked my arms. My heart raced, pounding so loud in my ears I couldn’t hear anything else. The bishop was right. A monster was somewhere out there. I needed all the help I could get. I let go of the awkwardness and closed my eyes—and then I prayed.

6 CJ

I

tried to busy myself, organizing my paint containers in the drawer, but my gaze kept returning to Joshua Miller’s backside. He was on his knees, with his head shoved beneath my kitchen sink. He was tall and muscled from years of farm work. His tanned skin contrasted sharply with his light blue eyes, and when he turned those eyes on me, my stupid heart fluttered. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to this the other day, Ms. West.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Relocating an entire farm across state lines has been an undertaking.” “Please call me CJ. Ms. West makes me feel like an old lady.” I dropped the last paint canister into the drawer and crossed the room to the refrigerator. He took the bottle of water I offered him and leaned back against the sink, still sitting on the floor. I sipped my own bottle. Unlike the house on the hill where the electric had been moved to convert the house to a proper Amish dwelling, my rental cottage was still powered by forbidden energy. Thank God. So far, I hadn’t missed not having a TV, but if I decided I wanted to watch my favorite shows, I could easily hook one up and get satellite TV. Joshua had even assured me that internet was available through the satellite, but I was making do with the data on my phone for the time being. One of my goals of escaping to the country was to get away from technology and focus on my art. “What made you decide to move here in the first place?” At his wide-eyed reaction, I explained, “I’d think you’d want to stay in a familiar community while you raised your kids by yourself.” Several weeks ago while at Nancy’s Diner, the assistant district attorney, Elayne Weaver, had informed me and Serenity that Joshua Miller’s wife had died a year earlier when the buggy she’d been driving washed into a river after a bridge collapsed. It sounded like a simple accident to me, but the other women’s

worried frowns that day had made me a bit paranoid. Now a girl in the community had died, and until I got word from Serenity, I didn’t have any idea what was going on. It didn’t seem appropriate to bring the subject up with Joshua until I had more details, either. Joshua remained on the floor and ran his hand down his beard. “It wasn’t an easy decision. We had family and friends there…but also bad memories.” I stared at him, waiting. When his eyes met mine, he looked determined, and spoke carefully. “My wife died last year. Everywhere I went reminded me of her. I needed to get away—start a new life without her ghost.” The breeze coming through the window carried the sweet scents of wet grass and honeysuckle. The kitchen was quiet except for the tick-tock of the mantle clock in the living room. It had belonged to my grandpa, and he’d given it to me a few weeks before he’d passed away from cancer. The sound was soothing. As long as I could hear the ticking, I was never really alone. I exhaled, glad to finally have the subject out in the open. “I’m sorry to hear that. Losing a spouse at a young age, and with children, must be devastating.” He looked at me in an open way that made me think he wanted to talk. I brushed off the strange feeling of having such a personal conversation with a man who was so different than anyone I’d ever met. He basically lived in a time warp—stuck in the 1800s—and he’d chosen the lifestyle. Sometimes I had a difficult time wrapping my mind around it all, especially when I’d see him coming and going in a horse-drawn buggy or when the girls ran by, wearing dresses and caps. “It has been. But my children, Nana and the farm keep me busy.” He glanced away. “I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake coming here—that I was selfish in my actions.” I didn’t have anything in common with this man except that we’d both run to Blood Rock to get away from our pasts. “I understand why you did it. My situation isn’t as tragic as yours, but I also came here to escape painfully memories.” His brow rose questioningly and I forged on. “My boyfriend cheated on me.” I peeked at his reaction and away again. He looked angry. My eyes traced the swirls in the wood of the table as I worked hard to keep the smile from erupting on my face. “That is not something that happens to my people,” he said with arrogance. I met his hard stare, full of questions. “The Amish don’t cheat on each other?” He snorted. “Rarely—and almost never once they’ve said their vows.” His voice rose when he went on to say, “Your people are never satisfied. I can’t

imagine why a man wouldn’t be content with a beautiful woman like you by his side.” I found it difficult to breathe. Had he just called me beautiful? I smoothed my curls back. I hadn’t changed after the rainstorm and rescuing Sylvia. My clothes were still damp. I’d been shocked when Joshua had appeared at my door to fix my dripping sink only minutes after Serenity had left. The air in the room changed, becoming electric. Joshua jumped to his feet and began putting his tools away. He didn’t look at me. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. I oftentimes stick my foot in my mouth. Miranda used to scold me all the time.” I swallowed. “Miranda was your wife?” He glanced up and away, and then went back to placing his wrenches neatly in the tool box. “Yes. She had a strong spirit, but she chose to speak carefully.” He grunted fondly. “She was forever making amends to people I offended.” He grinned boyishly. “You might not have noticed, but I have a rash temper. That’s where my girls get it—not their mother. Luckily, John is more even-keeled.” “What happened to her?” I asked. The kitchen was small, making it impossible to not be near each other. The deep sense of sadness he was emitting was almost overpowering. He was like a lost soul. He placed his hands on the table and leaned in, hunched over. I regretted my curious nature. I had no right be prying into this stranger’s life. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.” “It’s all right. I allowed the conversation to go in this direction.” He stood taller and rubbed his face. “You must forgive me. It’s been a rough month; the move, followed by friends being killed at the Coblenz wedding in Pennsylvania, have taken a toll.” The creases around his eyes deepened. He looked exhausted. “Just forget I brought it up.” “No. We’re going to be neighbors for at least a little while. I want to be honest with you. My wife drowned in a flooded river.” My stomach clenched and I met his gaze. The room fell quiet as we stared at each other. He’d left out the part about how his wife was afraid of horses and never drove the buggy alone. This detail had worried Serenity the most. Something wasn’t right with the story. Joshua wasn’t being entirely truthful. But was it really any of my business? He was my landlord, nothing more. That’s a lie. I wanted to be friends with this man. He was honorable—a trait I

wasn’t used to. A part of me was suspicious, but my gut shouted that Joshua Miller would never hurt his wife or any other woman. I decided the best course of action was to act ignorant. “That’s awful,” I mumbled. He turned all businesslike when he shut his tool box. “I saw the sheriff leave without you earlier. There’s still dumplings in the pot up at the house if you’re hungry. My stomach was in so many knots I couldn’t have eaten if I’d tried. Although the thought of getting to see the girls and to know Nana better was tempting. I was just about to open my mouth when pounding hooves sounded on the driveway, followed by someone shouting in the Amish language. A worried looked passed over Joshua’s face before he rushed out onto the porch. I was a few steps behind him, and I nearly bumped into his broad back when he stopped in front of me. Joshua’s son sat astride a brown horse. The boy was about twelve-yearsold and out of breath. “Slow down, John,” Joshua said in English. “Speak clearly.” John took a gulp of air, and the horse tossed its head. “It’s Makayla Bowman, Dat. She’s been murdered!” Joshua went down the porch steps and took the reins of the horse. He switched to his native language, and the father and son spoke rapidly. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to check for messages. Nothing. Serenity’s voice had been nervous when she’d been called away earlier to investigate a girl’s death. I never imagined it might be murder. Serenity must be up to her eyeballs with this one, I thought. The sun had poked out from the clouds and now sat low on the horizon. It was impossible to imagine a murder being committed in such a tranquil setting. Hearing about a murder wasn’t a big deal in Indy, but in a small town like this where everyone knew each other, it was like the world was turned upside down. John galloped toward the house on the hill, and Joshua looked at me. “I hate to ask this of you, and normally I would have the John fetch the buggy, but time is too crucial to dally with the horse.” “Anything you need,” I offered without thinking. “Can you drive me to Joseph and Katherine Bender’s farm? It isn’t far. An important meeting is being held there—about what happened to the Bowman girl.” I didn’t even hesitate. “Of course. Let me get my car keys.” I saw the relief in Joshua’s eyes and it made me feel good to help.

I’d relished the quiet time painting, but sometimes I felt a little stir crazy— and lonely. Rushing off to a deliver Joshua to a community meeting would be an interesting diversion. Although I felt a little guilty that the cause of excitement was a murdered local girl. When I shut the cottage door behind me, Joshua was already waiting beside my car. Neither of us spoke as I headed in the direction Joshua pointed me in. I was like a nervous girl sitting so close to him. The same static energy I’d sensed in the kitchen earlier returned. I shook my head a little. I didn’t like the way I reacted to an Amish man I hardly knew. There was no chance for a romance with Joshua. I was basically a thirty-two-year-old woman, suffering from an uncomfortable crush on my landlord. The last thing I wanted was to have more sleepless nights, thinking about someone who was unattainable. “Other than my family, have you interacted with anyone else in the community?” Joshua eyed me, frowning slightly. I shook my head. “My people have much on their minds this night. It’s sinister business we discuss.” He paused as though he were carefully selecting his words. “Please don’t take it personally, but I won’t be able to speak freely to you tonight. You’ll simply be my driver.” “I don’t understand,” I said. “My people are different from yours, not only in the way we live, but also how we behave. I explained to you on the day we met that it would not be proper for me to have an unmarried English woman living on my property. People have already been talking about me renting the cottage to you.” He sighed and spoke with more force. “They’ll be watching us and gossip will spread like wildfire though the community if we act too familiar.” My face must have shown my shock. He softened his voice. “You’ve been kind to my girls and I can tell they like you. And after what your boyfriend did to you, I want to help provide the peace and quiet you’re looking for. But it’s not up to me. The elders are scheduled to make a decision on the matter in the next month. I will do what they ask, even if it means having you leave.” My face flushed and I looked ahead, hardly noticing the passing farmhouses, barns and fields. “How can you live like that—letting other people make decisions for you?” Joshua laughed and the sound rolled through the cab, warming it. “You’re a typical Englisher. Would you ever have someone, especially a man, tell you what to do?” Somehow, he’d turned the tables on me. Irritation prickled my skin. “This

isn’t the same as compromising with a family member…or lover.” I savored the reddening of his cheeks before looking back at the road. “You’re allowing a group of men to make decisions that affect your livelihood. What would happen if the elders say I have to go and you refused?” “I wouldn’t refuse, CJ. Community is everything to my people. Without strict rules, there’d be chaos and our society would break down. Yes, there are times I don’t agree with the authority, but there are many more times when I receive support and satisfaction from my community. The simple ways of the Plain people suit me.” The sound of him saying my name gave me goosebumps, but the stubbornness in his voice was unmistakable. Joshua would never fall for a woman who didn’t think the way he did. Hard reality sank in and I leaned back. “Maybe it’s better if I start looking for another place. Or maybe I should go back to Indianapolis. It was probably foolish to move out to the country like I did.” “Don’t say that,” Joshua said firmly. “Our Lord brought you here for a reason. We’ll wait and see what Aaron and the others decide. Until then, we must tread very carefully. They’re always watching.” He pointed at the next driveway. “Here’s the place.” When I saw the long procession of black buggies and dark-colored horses making their way between the barns and parking in the yard below the white farmhouse, the breath caught in my throat, and my heart sped up. At least a hundred men and women trudged across the yard. The sun had set and the air had the grayish quality that twilight took on, casting eerie shadows across the yard. Children’s heads poked out of barn doorways and windows as we passed by. “There are so many people.” I couldn’t hide the awe in my voice. “When the community gathers for business, it’s always a sight,” Joshua muttered. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. What had I gotten myself into?

7 SERENITY

T

he Amish girl lay naked on the examination table. The blood was gone and her wounds were sutured. Her gray skin looked like plastic. My gaze strayed to her bright red hair that hung over the table in long locks, and then to her curled fingers. I stood beside Bobby. It was never pleasant in the autopsy room. The chemical scents, especially the formaldehyde, made me a little light headed. I winced. “What do you have for me?” Bobby pulled a plastic bag out of the canister beside the body and handed it to me. There was a small paperback in it. I studied the cover. A bare-chested man with long hair embraced a voluptuous blonde wearing a purple gown. Passion’s Heart. I looked up. “An Amish girl was reading a romance novel?” Bobby shrugged. “It’s the only item she had with her. Most kids have a vice or two—this might have been hers.” “Did you look through it carefully? Maybe a letter was stuck between the pages, or notes written inside.” “I flipped through each page and found nothing. I wouldn’t think a book had anything to do with her murder.” I turned it over, and then returned it to the evidence canister. Bobby was probably right, but I wouldn’t completely dismiss it. I’d discovered the hard way that sometimes the most insignificant things led to great discoveries. My mind flitted to the professor and his students on Blood Rock Hill. They’d unearthed a few bone fragments that might solve a two-hundred-year-old legend. Bobby pulled his surgical mask below his chin and reached for his notebook. “This was one of the harder ones I’ve done in a while,” Bobby commented, glancing at his scribbles. He was supposed to be using the new touch-screen computer tablet, but it

was still sitting on top of the cupboard in the corner of the room. Teaching an old dog new tricks wasn’t going to be easy. “Cause of death was asphyxiation. The cuts to the throat and abdomen were postmortem as I suspected.” He pointed to her left arm. “She sustained a fracture to her forearm, which appears to be caused from fighting her assailant, and there was also a small fracture at the base of her skull that probably happened when she hit the floor. Her right wrist was also broken. Her viscera were lacerated.” He paused to study his notes. “She was raped. I swabbed her vagina and the semen strip test confirmed the presence of seminal fluid.” He looked up. “I already sent the kit off to the state lab for a DNA profile, along with a shard of skin collected from beneath one of her fingernails. There were several hair strands I found on the body that weren’t hers. One appeared to be animal—perhaps a cow—one was a different shade of red and two were shorter brown hairs. “There were ligature marks on her wrists, and from the location of the wrist break, I gather she had her arms tied behind her, and she was on her back when she was violated.” He took a quick breath. “Her fingernails were all broken and there are numerous bruises on her cheeks, arms, hips and buttocks. There was an old break to her fibula that had healed—just guessing it was horse related since she’s Amish. Her toxicology tests are pending.” I digested Bobby’s summation while he set down the notebook, removed his glasses to clean them on his apron, and pushed them back into place. “The assault was vicious and quick. She fought like a wildcat, but once he had her tied, there wasn’t anything else she could do,” he said. “We didn’t find anything in or around the shed that could have been used to tie her wrists.” My gaze drifted back to the girl’s face. Even in death she was pretty. Thoughts about what she’d endured made my stomach churn. It was almost unimaginable. “This guy was prepared—he was careful.” “We’ll go back to expand the search area,” I said, trying to picture the attack. “How long on the DNA?” “I put a rush on it, but it will still take at least a week. And if our killer isn’t already in the database, the DNA information won’t help us catch him.” “Unless we have a suspect to compare a sample from.” Bobby nodded. “That would help. Do we have any suspects?” My mind immediately went to the giant, Charlie Saunders, and I tensed. “The property owner is our prime suspect at the moment, but we don’t have anything incriminating on him, except that he found the body in his shed and he’s frightening—like a made-up character in a book. Todd pulled his record and

nothing violent came up. He had a disorderly conduct misdemeanor and a DUI conviction a few years back. That’s it. I was surprised.” “Anyone else?” His tone was inquisitive, but I sensed he was beating around the bush. “There’s an Amish boy who’s been sneaking into the shed to smoke cigarettes, and Makayla had a boyfriend. We’ll check them both out.” I paced across the room. “Do you have anything else for me?” “Actually, I do.” He twirled the end of his mustache. “But I want to hear your thoughts about the killer.” My skin tingled with anticipation. “I don’t think Makayla was randomly targeted. The killer knew her in some capacity—maybe not a close relation, but someone she came into contact with occasionally. Since she’s Amish, there are fewer opportunities for chance encounters with strangers than the usual teenager. We should be able to narrow the search considerably once I interview the rest of her family and her friends.” I took a deep breath, forcing my mind back to the dimly lit shed. “She was murdered at the location. I haven’t figured out if she was lured there willingly or taken there against her will. But once he had her in there, she figured out he was up to no good. She fought him and sustained severe injuries, but was ultimately subdued and raped. Not only is this guy a real sicko, he hates women. The savagery he committed on Makayla before and after she was dead shows a truly sadistic nature.” I looked grimly at Bobby. “Whoever did this was deeply troubled and probably has a long history of psychiatric problems.” “Very good. I agree with your hypothesis. I would take it a step further. This man was in control of his emotions when he butchered Makayla Bowman. He enjoyed it.” “We have to get this guy, Bobby.” “There is something else. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I fear it might be a ritualistic signature.” “You mean like a serial killer? We only have one vic.” “So far. I hope I’m wrong.” He motioned to the counter where a jar was placed. I bent down to get a closer look without touching it. I studied it for a moment, not sure at first what I was looking at. It was blood soaked and strangely shaped. It reminded me of something— something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “Where did this come from?” “I found it inside Makayla’s stomach—where her entrails should have been. The killer left it for us.”

“Or for her.” Recognition startled me and I looked up at Bobby. “It’s a rose.” “Not just an ordinary rose—a paper one,” Bobby clarified. “A paper rose?” I straightened. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” “Nowadays they call them origami, I think. When I was a young boy, I sat beside a girl in church who used to take the bulletin and fold it in the shape of a flower. The folds were intricate and no matter how I’d try, I couldn’t duplicate her work.” A faint smile touched his lips. “She’d laugh at my attempts.” I looked at Makayla. “It sounds like a pastime an Amish girl might take up.” Bobby nodded. “The killer might have found the flower on the victim and inserted it into the girl’s stomach in the act of desecrating her body.” “But you think the paper rose might be symbolic?” “If the killer did leave the flower as a calling card, it could be a warning. Someone this twisted may have the compulsion to do it again.” “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have one body. There’s a chance this was personal.” I said the words with little enthusiasm. Bobby was right. The S.O.B. who murdered Makayla enjoyed it. Once a psychopath acted out his violent sexual fantasies—becoming a sadistic lust killer—there was a good possibility he’d repeat the crime. A rap on the door got our attention. Bobby covered the body and I cracked the door open to see Daniel looking back at me with troubled eyes. He followed me into the room and closed the door behind us. “Dammit, Serenity, why didn’t you call about this one?” He was wearing a sweaty t-shirt and faded jeans that he’d probably worked in all day. His muscles bulged and his skin was tanned. He ran a hand through his thick black hair and looked back at me with flashing eyes. I ignored his rudeness. He used to be Amish and he grew up in Blood Rock. The brutal murder of a girl in the community would hit close to home. Hell, he might have been friends with her parents at one time. I took a short breath, trying not to inhale too much of the chemical smell. Daniel’s eyes shifted from me, to Bobby, and finally landed on the covered body. Sometimes it was hard to believe we were actually engaged. I still got butterflies when he was around. “Her name is Makayla Bowman. Do you know her family?” I said. Like popping a balloon, his shoulders sagged and he sighed. “No. I heard they moved into the community from Ohio about five years ago—long after my

departure from the Amish.” He licked his lips. “Is it as bad as the rumors I’ve heard?” “Probably worse. The girl was violently assaulted, raped and murdered. And if that wasn’t enough, her body was savaged afterwards.” I knew I sounded cold hearted, but it was the only way I could keep my own emotions reined in. “Who did you hear the news from?” “My sister called me.” Daniel shook his head. “The community is in an uproar. The families are holding a council meeting tonight.” I leaned back against the counter, exchanging a glance with Bobby. “What for?” My heart pounded and my eyes narrowed on Daniel. “Are they taking matters into their own hands again?” Daniel straightened to his full height and his chiseled features hardened. Sometimes I wondered if he’d ever really left the Amish, and this was one of those times. “They have every right to discuss the crime. Someone in the community might know something that can lead us to the killer.” “Then shouldn’t we be there for such a revelation?” Daniel’s eyes looked almost black and his breaths were shallow, controlled. “You’ve already decided an Amish man did this, haven’t you?” Before I could answer, he plowed on. “Why haven’t you arrested Charlie Saunders? Any fool would pick him as a murderer.” My eyes widened and my skin chilled. “Are you calling me a fool?” “Now children.” Bobby stepped between us, his hand raised. “We all need to work together to find the monster who did this to that poor dead girl over there. Name calling will get us nowhere.” My mouth snapped shut and Daniel took a step back, dropping his head. When I found my voice, I was in control again. “Charlie Saunders is a suspect and I have an officer on him. He’s being surveilled. We can’t arrest a man without evidence, and we have nothing on him at this point.” Daniel nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I said that. I know you of all people are going to do everything in your power to solve this murder. But my community has suffered so much in the past year. Now this?” I tilted my head. “My community? Since when did you return to the Amish?” “You know what I mean,” he rushed out. “They are still my people. I care about them. Something like this could destroy everything they hold dear.” Daniel was a passionate man. In every way. Everything was black and white to him, and even though he’d left the culture at the age of nineteen, he still thought like an Amish man in many aspects. It was what had kept me from

falling in love with him for so long—and still worried me greatly. But Bobby was right. This wasn’t the time to rehash our argument about Daniel’s loyalties to his past. We needed to work together to get this killer. “Go ahead and finish up here, Bobby. The Bowmans are going to want to bury their daughter as soon as possible. But make sure you have every sample and picture you need. I don’t want to have to exhume this body someday for more evidence.” “Understood.” Bobby hesitated and leaned over. “You might want to do some research to see if there have been any similar crimes committed outside of our jurisdiction.” I smiled at my coroner. He was always trying to stay one step ahead of me. “I already have Todd and Jeremy working on it.” I turned to Daniel. “And we’re heading out to the community.” Daniel frowned. “What’s our destination?” “The council meeting.”

8 CJ

W

ithout the full moon rising overhead, there would have been no light illuminating the yard. Horses nickered and occasionally a child’s voice rang out. After Joshua had left me in the car, I watched as more buggies arrived until my car was boxed in on all sides. My legs were cramping and I had to pee badly. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and my stomach growled loudly. I clutched the door handle and stepped outside into the cooler, damper air. I stopped to pet the nose of a friendly horse that reached out to me as I attempted to skirt by it. “Hello, there. Aren’t you pretty,” I murmured. I headed over to where two large white vans and a smaller gray minivan were parked. Four non-Amish people stood in a cluster between the vehicles, and I hoped one of them knew where I could find a bathroom. The gray-haired man and woman smiled at me when I approached. The middle-aged woman continued to puff on her cigarette, and the twentysomething guy with bushy brown hair didn’t look up from the book he was reading. “Uh, excuse me. Can any of you point me in the direction of a bathroom?” The older woman flashed me a sympathetic look. “Sure, honey. You’ll have to go up to the house. Follow the stone walkway around to the back door. It’s on the left when you go in.” I glanced at the dark house on the hill. Could I hold my pee a little longer? I wasn’t excited about entering a stranger’s house—especially an Amish one. “Be careful, though,” the young man said, closing his book. “They don’t like people snooping around their homes. You might not be allowed to leave.” I searched the others’ faces. They looked back at me with grim expressions. “And watch out for the children. If they get you alone—you’re a goner.” The woman took another drag of her cigarette, and shook her head slowly.

When the group broke out laughing, I felt foolish. The young man grinned. “I’m sorry. You’re obviously a newbie and I couldn’t help having a little fun with you.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Caleb. This is Chloe, she drives the minivan. Dick and Martha over there own one of the white vans. The other one’s mine.” I shook the young man’s hand and nodded at everyone else. My irritation with Caleb quickly passed. He was the type of friendly guy that you couldn’t stay angry with for long. “Nice to meet all of you. I’m CJ West.” “We know,” Chloe said with a crooked twist to her lips. “You’re all the gossip around here lately. The handsome young widower is renting a little house to an attractive city girl. Yep. Scandalous.” I wasn’t sure if I liked Chloe or not. I wondered if her wicked sense of humor went along with a mean streak. “Don’t let Chloe get you all riled up, honey. The Amish are good people. But since they don’t have TVs, computers or any other technology, gossip is their main form of entertainment. They don’t mean anything by it.” Martha gave me another reassuring smile. “I must admit, I don’t really know anything about their culture—except for the obvious: no cars and no electricity. I should have read up a little more before I made the move.” “Do you regret coming here?” Caleb asked, one brow raised high. I glanced at his book. It had a dragon and a barely clothed athletic woman on the cover. He was a nerd wrapped up in a cute, college guy body. “Do you mean here, right now, or moving into the Miller’s cottage?” He shrugged. “Either…both…I guess.” “It’s been an adjustment, but I love living in the country.” I dug my tennis shoe into the grass. “I might have to find another place soon.” “The elders are going to decide your fate?” Caleb smiled weakly. “Something like that,” I muttered. Caleb chewed on his pinky nail. “I wouldn’t worry about being evicted in the near future. They’ll be too invested in the murder to care much about you.” He was right, but I didn’t feel comforted. I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “Do any of you know what happened?” Chloe answered, “Makayla Bowman—she was only nineteen and a pretty girl—was raped and murdered. She was cut up something awful from what I heard.” “That’s terrible.” I hugged my arms around me as goosebumps covered my skin.

“She was a sweet girl.” Martha dabbed at the corner of her eye. “Dick and I drove for her family. All nice people. I’m sure they’re devastated.” “They handle calamity better than we do,” Caleb said. “You know that.” “True, their faith protects them from death more than most.” Martha took hold of her husband’s arm and squeezed it. “But this is different. Even the Amish will have a difficult time getting over the horror of what that girl must have experienced before she left the world.” I shivered and glanced back up at the house. There was no light or movement—it was all quiet. “Don’t worry about using the bathroom.” Caleb pointed at the metal building slightly down the hill and to the left of the house. “They’re all in there. Most of them didn’t bring their kids, so there’s only a handful slinking around the yard and barns. The worst you’ll run into is a few old women with babies.” Martha nodded in agreement and Chloe shooed me with her hands. “Go on. No one’s going to bite you.” I left the drivers and slipped between the horses and buggies until I finally reached the large porch. Following Martha’s directions, I turned onto the stones that led to the back of the house. The branches of a tree scraped the side of the house and its shadow swallowed me in darkness. I forced down my unease and surged forward. I had a mission to find a toilet. I pushed the screen door open and peeked in. The room was dark, and I could barely make out the table and chairs in the middle of the room. I turned left and felt my way until I found a doorknob. I knocked softly and when no one answered, I slipped into the smaller room, shutting the door behind me. I searched for a light switch, and then remembered there wasn’t electricity in the house. Joshua had explained earlier in the day the process he had to go through to light the wick of a gas lamp for light. I wasn’t about to try that. Instead, I fumbled my way around the bathroom in the dark until I had relieved myself and washed my hands. The sound of voices stopped my hands on the doorknob. I pressed my ear to the door. “I couldn’t listen to that kind of talk any longer,” a woman’s voice said. A light went on in the kitchen, shining beneath the bathroom door. My heart leaped into my throat. “Imagine what poor Makayla endured. We can’t even bear listening to talk about her death,” the other woman replied. “So terrible. I will pray for her and her family each night for the rest of my life.” There was the clinking of dishes and the women reverted to speaking their

language. I leaned against the door. There was a small window, and I contemplated squeezing through it to avoid the two women. That would be ridiculous. What would the Amish think if someone caught me in the process of doing it? No. I was a big girl. I’d just exit the bathroom, say hello and goodbye, and be on my way. No problem. I was determined when I opened the door, but my heart still beat too hard. When I walked into the kitchen, the taller woman jumped, cupping her mouth. The other woman said something that I guessed to be a sort of Amish cuss word by the startled look on her pale face. “I’m sorry to scare you. Uh, I drove Joshua Miller here for the meeting. I’d been waiting in my car so long I had to use the bathroom.” I swallowed a gulp. “Martha said it was okay.” Both women visibly relaxed as I talked. The shorter woman wiped her brow, exposing a little brown hair from beneath her cap. Her eyes were bright blue and looked at me with kindness. She crossed the room swiftly, taking me off guard. “I’m Katherine Bender. This is my house—and of course you may use the toilet.” She smiled deeply. “I bet you’re hungry, too.” “How’d you guess?” I smiled back at her. “They’ve been going at it for nearly two hours. I’m also about to wet myself.” She gestured to the other woman. “Rebecca will cut you a slice of the apple pie I made just this morning while I take care of business.” Katherine swept by me and the bathroom door closed. I took the opportunity to peer around the kitchen as I climbed onto the stool at the island. Now that the room was lit I could see the gray countertops and the plants lined up on the windowsill of the large picture window. The enormous table had a bench down one side and six chairs along the other. A rocking chair and a quiltcovered sofa were arranged across the room. The bright reds, purples and greens on the quilt caught my eye. It was a work of art. “I hope you like lemonade.” Rebecca deposited a full glass and a large slice of pie in front of me. “Who doesn’t? Thank you.” I took a sip and closed my eyes. It was the sweetest lemonade I’d tasted. “You’re Serenity’s friend, aren’t you?” My eyes popped open and I looked at Rebecca. “Yes, do you know her?” “She’s my future sister-in-law.” “Wow. Small world.” I took a bite of the pie and leaned back as it melted in my mouth.

Katherine returned to the room and touched my shoulder as she walked by. “Any friend of Serenity’s is ours also.” My eyes widened. “I was under the impression that when a person left the Amish—” I paused, searching for the right words. I didn’t want to offend my new friends. “That they weren’t allowed to see each other any longer.” “You’re talking about shunning.” Katherine sighed, her lips turning down. She was fragile looking—like a china doll. “It is true. For most families, once a child has been baptized into our faith, leaving it will result in being shunned.” “But sometimes, after a long while, family comes back together. And that’s the case with my brother, Daniel,” Rebecca said. “He came back to us because of Serenity.” I took another bite of the delicious pie and waited for Rebecca to say more. She continued, “Nearly a year ago, another girl in our community was found shot to death in a cornfield. Serenity brought Daniel into the investigation to help her, but she actually helped him by bringing us all together again.” “It’s all right for you to hang out now?” I asked. Rebecca looked at Katherine, who answered, “It’s a special circumstance with Daniel. He’s assisted the sheriff with Amish business. If it weren’t for their bravery, more people would have died in our community.” She sniffed. “The elders are lenient with them.” The bite of pie traveling down my throat became a knot. I swallowed hard. The poor woman was still grieving something, and I wasn’t about to upset her with personal questions. “The pie is wonderful. You’re both very kind to feed and talk to me.” Rebecca scowled. “Did you expect any less?” I shook my head and the curls bounced on my shoulders. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. Joshua had warned me that I might not be allowed to continue renting the cottage from him.” I shrugged, pushing the empty plate aside. “It made me think that I would be judged harshly for being here at all.” Rebecca’s face softened and she patted my hand. “Don’t take it personally —it’s just the way our people are.” “If it were up to me, you would be allowed to stay as long as you like.” Katherine sat down beside me. “But I don’t make those kinds of decisions.” “Does it bother either of you that so much of your lives is planned out by others?” The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. Rebecca leaned on the counter and popped a grape from a fruit basket into her mouth. She turned her head to Katherine, who shrugged. “It makes life easier.” Katherine smiled patiently. “We put our faith in God first and He guides our bishop and ministers to govern us wisely. Whatever

decision they make regarding you will be for the best. You must have faith.” The Amish woman looked at me with moist eyes, and I wondered if she was trying to convince herself of her own words. She seemed to read my thoughts when she added, “My eldest died recently. It was an unexplainable tragedy.” She pulled a kerchief from the pocket of her maroon dress and dabbed her eyes. “His name was Eli and he was a good boy. Serenity was able to save Hannah—the girl he wanted to court, but not my son.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “It was his time to be with our Lord.” She dropped her gaze to me. “It saddens me to have him leave me so soon, but it was God’s will. And that gives me comfort.” “I wish I had that kind of faith,” I said truthfully. “Perhaps you will find it one day.” Katherine put her hand to her ear and listened. “I hear my youngest is crying. I’m going to fetch him from his crib.” “I’m going to head back to my car. Thanks again for the pie.” I slipped off the stool and scooted backward toward the screen door. “It was a pleasure chatting with you. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.” She winked at me and touched Rebecca’s arm as she swept past. “You must say hello to Serenity for me,” Rebecca said before I made my getaway. “You can tell her yourself,” a man’s deep voice called out from the darkness beyond the screen. My spirits lifted when Serenity walked through the door with a tall, darkhaired man. I crossed the room and pulled her into a tight hug, which for a change, she actually returned. When she pulled away, worry shadowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?” “It’s kind of a long story…” I stammered. “We’ve taken good care of her, Serenity.” Rebecca stood rooted in place, making eye contact with the man, who I could easily guess was her brother. He didn’t smile and agitation oozed off him. “I thank you for that, Rebecca.” Serenity dismissed her and coiled her hand around my arm. “You need to go home.” “But I can’t.” Serenity’s eyes narrowed. I’d forgotten how intense she could be in a crisis. “I have to drive my landlord home.” Serenity’s brow arched and I bit my lower lip. She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “This could get ugly. You don’t want to get messed up in it.” I didn’t bother to pull out of her grasp. We might be the same size, but I was willing to bet Serenity was a lot stronger than me.

“I think I’m already messed up in it. Besides, my car is surrounded by horses.” I offered a good-hearted smile, but Serenity didn’t return it. “All right then. You’re coming with us.” She let go of me and opened the door, gesturing me through. “Hopefully the next time I see you will be under better circumstances, Rebecca.” “I’m praying for you. You must find Makayla’s murderer.” Rebecca went first to Daniel, and he leaned down for her to kiss his cheek. She gave Serenity a quick hug and walked through the kitchen, disappearing into the adjoining room. Serenity wasted no time shuffling me through the doorway and then taking the lead. Daniel was right on my heels. “Where are we going?” I asked, fearing her answer. “We’re crashing a secret meeting.” Oh, great. The last place I wanted to be.

9 SERENITY

I

didn’t like CJ being there, but the thought of her alone in her car didn’t sit well with me, either. Daniel might scoff at the idea that an Amish man attacked Makayla, but my recent cases were still fresh in my mind. I’d already faced a crazed teen who’d shot a girl who didn’t return his favor, and then beaten his little brother into silence about it. Then there was the ex-Amish man, Asher, who was a drug dealer and a killer in a northern settlement. And I’ll never forget Ada Mae. She’d poisoned five women, and three of them had died. There might not be as many psychopaths in the Amish communities as in the general population, but there were enough to keep me busy. I looked over my shoulder, holding a finger to my mouth. CJ nodded, her curly hair bouncing around her face. Daniel separated from us, pointing at the back of the building. I nodded. We’d already discussed him going into the building with some stealth, just in case. My appearance would be enough of a distraction for my fiancé to observe what was going on from a safe distance. He’d thought it was unnecessary, but ever since I’d been held in a barn against my will by a bunch of Amish men, I wasn’t so trusting. I may have made my peace with many of the people in the building—even considered them friends— but I wasn’t foolish. I knew firsthand that in the right circumstances, the Amish could be dangerous. When I stopped outside the sliding metal door, CJ bumped into me. She stayed close, not backing up and I regretted bringing her. I leaned over until my lips were close to her ear. “Go wait in the house with Rebecca.” She shook her head. “You might need me. I’m not leaving you alone.” I snorted softly. “Since when did you get into law enforcement?” She glanced around and frowned. “They give me the creeps, Serenity. Well, not Joshua and his kids…or the nice ladies in the house, but the rest of

them are frightening,” she whispered fiercely. “And there’s a killer on the loose.” I couldn’t argue with her about that. “Stay close,” I ordered. “I intend to.” I pushed the door open just enough to squeeze through and closed it quickly. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. There was a stack of pallets ahead and I took the few steps to reach them. After a quick glance to see that CJ was with me, I peeked around the wooden boards. A table was set up on a make-shift podium. A single gas light dangled from the ceiling, illuminating the space and giving off enough light to see the large crowd of people gathered. Even with their backs to me, I could see that the men and women were mixed in together for a change. There weren’t any children visible. The black coats, hats and caps gave the scene a surreal feeling that I had to shake off. Bishop Esch was seated behind the table. His ministers, James Hooley, Moses Bachman and Joseph Bender were with him, like a line of judges on the bench, ready to hand down a sentence. The young man standing to the side of the table caught my eye. His dark hair was long and messy, falling over the side of his face. He wasn’t wearing a hat and his head was bowed. “Monroe Swarey, do you admit your sins before the congregation?” the bishop said loudly. My heart quickened. The boy Charlie Saunders had chased out of his barn for smoking. Was he on trial for something as minuscule as sneaking a cigarette or was he standing up there for something much, much more terrible—like Makayla’s murder? I shifted my head, trying to hear the boy better. He mumbled something and I shot a look at CJ, who was also leaning over. She shrugged, shaking her head. The bishop turned to the ministers and they whispered among themselves. The crowd was dead silent. Only the sounds of the men’s hushed voices, along with the occasional scraping of a tree branch against the metal siding could be heard. I was poised on the balls of my feet, about to leave my hiding spot to move closer, when the bishop spoke. “Your punishment is a shunning of six weeks, and you will sit on the splintery bench six times during that time. But your sentence can be reduced if you cooperate with the other matter.” Other matter? Is that how he referred to Makayla’s murder? “Did Makayla Bowman ever go to the shed with you?” the bishop asked. His stern face and voice would have made most kids have jelly legs, but

Monroe stood still, in an almost too-relaxed sort of way. “Just once.” I barely heard Monroe mumble the words. The kid wasn’t going to say any more than necessary. He might have a ragged appearance, but he was smart. At an average height and stout, he would have been a couple inches shorter than Makayla, but strong enough to subdue her in an attack. His laidback stance made me think he was either on drugs or really didn’t care about anything. Either scenario could make him threatening. “When was that?” the bishop continued. Bishop Esch was basically doing my job for me. I had mixed emotions about it. The bishop, with the ministers and entire congregation looking on, could probably get more out of the kid than I could, but we were so beyond proper protocol, my stomach churned. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the parochial proceeding. “A few weeks ago,” Monroe mumbled. “Why did you bring her there?” The bishop’s voice carried an edge, growing more urgent. “No reason in particular.” The kid tilted his head to the crowd and then back at the bishop. “Did she smoke with you?” “Of course not.” The bishop stood and slammed his fist onto the table. “Boy, this is important. What do you know about Makayla’s death?” I left my hiding place and walked slowly into the crowd. Aaron Esch had just lost his cool. The Amish interrogation was over as far as I was concerned. He was about to say the wrong thing. And the wrong thing could blow any case we’d have against Monroe Swarey, if he was the killer.” I watched Monroe mouth a word, but didn’t hear it. “Nothing! You say you know nothing, and yet you took her to the place she was butchered. You aren’t being truthful.” When I reached the podium, I could see it was a crude wooden structure that had probably been quickly assembled. The bishop was red faced and leaned over the table. Bishop Esch saw me and his eyes widened. He straightened to his full height and wagged a finger at me. “You’re intruding in Amish business, Sheriff.” And I thought we’d become friends. “You can carry on with whatever business you like. But Monroe Swarey is coming with me.” Moses stood. “We ask you give us a little more time with the boy.” I eyed Daniel’s father. He was gray haired and probably in his sixties, but

still strong. His dark eyes were warning me. I touched my sidearm involuntarily. I really hated the Plain people’s disrespect for the law. They thought they could govern themselves. Sometimes it worked out all right, but mostly they just got in the way. All their secretive bullshit was getting on my nerves. I didn’t answer Moses, looking instead at Monroe. I motioned him to me and he climbed off the podium. That the teenager would rather hang out with the sheriff than the leader of his community spoke volumes. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.” “Thank you.” Monroe met my hard gaze. “We should hurry up.” I glanced over to see the bishop and the ministers had followed Monroe. About sixteen men from the crowd stepped forward to join them in a ring around us. I caught a glimpse of Lester Lapp and his son Mervin. They’d remained in place, looking uncomfortable. When my eyes passed over Mervin, he smiled a little in an encouraging way. The women of the community had disappeared and I wondered when that had happened. It was nighttime and I was in a dark barn surrounded by Amish men. What are the chances of something like this happening twice? I held up my badge. “I’m taking Monroe Swarey in for questioning, that’s all. Everyone needs calm down, and get out of my way.” The bishop’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were on the same side.” “We are. We all want to find Makayla’s murderer. But your method of interrogation was getting out of hand. As horrific as the crime is, we must follow the law if any charges are going to hold up in court.” The bishop tilted his head. “Young Monroe Swarey didn’t kill the girl,” he said with a surety I wished I had about most people. “Arrest that beast, Charlie Saunders.” Irritation bubbled in my gut. It seemed the Amish, as well as my fiancé, had the murderer pegged—and they might have it right. The giant who discovered Makayla looked like the kind of guy who’d have a dozen bodies buried in his backyard. But a few things bothered me and I wasn’t as convinced as everyone else. Besides, I had an officer on the man and I didn’t have any hard evidence to haul him in at this point. I approached the bishop and lowered my voice so that only he could hear. “Trust me, we’re keeping an eye on Charlie Saunders while we continue to gather evidence. Because Monroe was spending time in the location of the murder, I have to ask him some questions. That’s all.” “I haven’t forgotten how you arrested Eli Bender, an innocent Amish boy, for Naomi’s death,” he whispered fiercely.

My temperature rose a few degrees. “I might have been wrong about Eli— but not on my conclusion that one of yours committed the crime. Remember David Lapp?” The bishop looked over my head, avoiding my stare. “The Amish are capable of murder.” “You will not arrest my son.” A man separated from the black-coated men encircling me. With his heavy set frame and hair mesy, the resemblance was uncanny. The front of his shirt was stained. I held up my hand. “I’m not arresting anyone tonight. We’re just going to have chat with him. Since he’s under eighteen, you’ll have to come with us also.” “Us?” The bishop swept his hands wide and looked around. “You’re alone, Sheriff. And I thought you’d learned your lesson from the last time you snuck into a private meeting.” “Oh, I’ll never forget that last little barn party.” The rest of my response wasn’t going to be pretty, and Daniel chose that moment to make his appearance. “Everyone should settle down,” he said as he squeezed between Monroe’s father and another long-bearded man. CJ was right behind him. “This isn’t your concern, Daniel,” the bishop said harshly. “Anything involving Serenity is my concern.” He turned to Monroe’s father. “Come on, Nicolas. For Makayla’s sake, let Monroe answer some questions. He might be able to help solve the case,” Daniel coaxed. “You should go with them—there’s no time to waste. Whoever killed that girl is still out there,” Joshua Miller said. He entered the circle and stood between Daniel and CJ. She looked up at him, but he didn’t glance her way. There was a heavy pause. Monroe inched closer to Daniel and the men shifted on their feet. “She’s dead!” a voice called out from the doorway. All heads turned. My breath caught in my throat as the crowd parted to reveal a young man, illuminated in moonlight. He was breathing heavily, clutching the reins to an equally labored horse. He paused for only a few seconds, and then led the brown horse into the building. He didn’t stop until he reached the bishop. When he began speaking in his language, Bishop Esch held up his hand. “Calm yourself and speak English, boy!” The blond and pole thin teenager rubbed the horse’s sweaty neck when he glanced my way, and took a deep breath. “Hannah Kuhns—she’s dead. We found her in the warehouse.” His voice shook. “It was awful. She’s all cut up.” Gasps rang out.

Hannah Kuhns—Eli’s would-be girlfriend and the girl we’d rescued from Ada Mae Peachy and her herbal poisons. I recalled her face. She was a pretty girl with reddish-blonde hair and large, hazel eyes. Her nose was small and straight and her cheekbones were high enough to give her a little bit of an exotic look. She’d lost a baby from an unwanted pregnancy. She was a stubborn and rebellious girl—and her own worst enemy. And now she was dead.

10 SERENITY

I

pulled out my phone as everyone held their breaths. “Has anyone called 911?” The boy shook his head. Dammit. Figures he’d come running to the Amish authority first. “Where is this warehouse?” “On Brookfield Road, out past the dairy farm,” Daniel answered. I controlled my breathing, staying focused. “The place where they make the birdhouses?” “That’s the one.” Daniel’s eyes were wide with shock. “Is her mother here?” I looked to the bishop. “I didn’t see her.” “She went to visit her sister in Iowa last month,” Moses said. I made a mental note of that and turned back to the bishop. “I’m going to call this in and head over there. We’ll have to talk to Monroe at a later time.” “I’ll keep an eye on him,” the bishop promised. “Irene needs to come home,” I told Moses. “I’ll have Anna get a message to her.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” Joshua Miller came forward. I caught his quick look CJ’s way. Her hand covered her mouth and she had paled. “Make sure CJ gets home safe.” I leaned closer to Bishop Esch. “Tell your people to be cautious, and not to let their kids out of their sight. Women shouldn’t be out alone, either.” “Understood.” I brought the phone to my ear and swiveled to leave, but the bishop’s hand snaked out, stopping me. “We’ll pray for you, Sheriff.” I wasn’t sure they had enough prayers for this one.

“You don’t want to come in here.” I frowned at Daniel, knowing his response before he opened his mouth. “I can handle it.” He stared at me, looking determined. Daniel wasn’t a lawman. He’d never even served in the armed forces. Seeing the gruesome remains of a young woman might affect him more than he thought. But he had been on several assignments with me, and he’d experienced his share of violence and death along the way. The main reason I allowed him to join us at the crime scene was his experience with the Amish people. Because of his background, he might provide valuable insight or at least answer questions about the Plain culture. I looked to Bobby, who nodded once. Without a backward glance, I motioned Daniel into the building. The small back room was stifling and the smell made my stomach summersault. Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed hard. “Open the windows, Todd. We won’t be able to think in here,” I choked out. Using a handkerchief, he swiftly pushed the two windows up, letting cool, night air mingle with the decaying stench. It helped, but not enough to calm my stomach. Daniel struck a match to ignite the gas light on the wall. The soft glow illuminated the room. Two tables lined one wall, stacked high with boxes. Beneath the death smell, I caught a whiff of the acrylic scent of paint. My eyes scanned the room and found several paint cans on the shelf beside a row of elaborately decorated bird houses. I could hear the quiet chatter of the people outside. A mixture of cops, EMTs and the Amish family who owned the birdhouse business were gathered just outside the doorway. “Here, put these on,” Bobby ordered, handing small masks to Todd, Daniel and me. I slipped mine on and turned to the body. What was left of Hannah Kuhns had been pushed against the wall. She was almost unrecognizable, except for the strawberry blonde locks tangled across her neck. Like Makayla, her cap was strewn aside and her torn dress revealed her nakedness. Her abdomen had been cut open and her entrails spilled out. Hannah was about eighteen—the same age as Makayla. I forgot about the smell, my mind shooting in all directions. We might have a serial killer on our hands.

Bobby knelt beside the body, and with a gloved hand, he carefully pushed the girl’s hair aside, revealing a gaping wound. I swallowed down the acid in my throat and knelt beside Bobby, lowering my voice so no eavesdroppers could hear. “Looks like the same MO as Makayla Bowman.” “Strikingly so.” He pointed to the side of her head. “There’s blood clotted and bruising along the hairline, indicating serious trauma to the head. Until I get her in the lab I won’t know whether it was the cut to throat or the injury to the head that was the cause of death.” He looked at the body. “I’m willing to bet the stomach was mutilated postmortem.” I tried to keep my heart from racing and scanned the room for a blunt object. I didn’t see one, but a smear on the wall beside the door caught my attention. I rose and drew closer, flashing my light on the spot. “I think this might be where her head struck the wall.” Bobby nodded. “It seems she put up a fight.” He pointed at an overturned chair. I knelt beside Bobby. “Do you have any idea about time of death?” “With the high heat in the unventilated room it’s difficult to tell, but I’d say it’s close to a week.” “Hannah was murdered before Makayla.” “Definitely.” Bobby pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at me. I turned to Daniel. He had his head tilted away from the body, staring out the window. “You okay?” He glanced at me, grimaced and looked away again. He’d grown up in a household where his mother had sent him out to wring chickens’ necks, and he’d butchered cows and pigs alongside his father and brothers. Daniel had also done some hunting as a youth. I guessed it wasn’t the blood and guts bothering him—it was the girl on the ground. And that she’d been slaughtered. I wasn’t going to coddle him. He’d known it was going to be bad, yet he’d insisted on coming anyway. “The Fishers own the property?” He nodded. “Lonnie said they left on vacation to visit relatives in Colorado nine days ago. They just arrived home this evening.” “Hannah wasn’t employed by the Fishers?” Daniel shook his head. “Lonnie said there was no reason for the girl to be here. She didn’t even hang around with his daughters.” I stood and stepped away from the body. It was hard not to be sick. The last time I’d seen this girl, she was alive and recovering in the hospital from the abortion herbs Ada Mae had given her. She’d lost Eli and a baby on the same

day, but she was resilient. At the time, I’d had the gut feeling she’d get into trouble again, but I had no idea I’d be looking at her mutilated body only months later. “Todd, did you come up with any other similar cases across state lines?” He scratched his head. “I was getting ready to send you a file when you called me, and then all hell broke loose.” Bobby rose slowly and faced Todd. “Get on with it,” he demanded. “About a month ago a nineteen-year-old Amish girl was murdered in Ohio. She was strangled, but that’s it.” “No mutilation or rape?” I held my breath. “Nothing about it mentioned on the report. The case is still open and the detective working it wants to talk to you,” Todd said. “Do you think the three murders are related?” Daniel asked. I puffed out a small breath, trying not to breathe deeply. “Could be.” “But the MO is different,” Todd offered. “Perhaps the assailant was interrupted, and left before he finished the job.” I pulled out my notepad. “It’s worth checking into. What’s the name of the town?” “Bilsby. It’s just over the state line, about an hour and half away.” Todd rubbed his face vigorously. “Do you want me to make arrangements with the sheriff’s office there?” “Yeah, I’d like to speak with the sheriff and the family tomorrow if I can get away.” “I think that’s a good idea. It’s close enough to be suspicious. It’s rare for an Amish person, let alone a girl, to be the victim of a violent murder. You might be onto something, Serenity,” Bobby said. “This is getting out of hand. We have to get this guy,” Todd said. “I want to talk to every person who’s been in contact with either girl over the past month—and I mean everyone.” “I’ll speak to Aaron about setting something up—maybe at the schoolhouse—where community members can come in and be interviewed by you,” Daniel suggested. “All right. I’ll conduct the family interviews separately, but there’s a common thread between Makayla and Hannah, and it might not be that obvious to those closest to the girls.” I turned to Bobby. “I want to know if the killer left a rose behind this time.” “A rose?” Daniel asked. “It’s the killer’s signature. In Makayla’s case, a paper rose was inserted into her abdomen. The wounds inflicted on the bodies suggest the same person

killed them both. But that rose was special. It was a calling card for this guy. And it meant something important to him.” Daniel’s eyes widened and shifted back to Hannah’s body. I was still taking light puffs to deal with the decaying odor, but my stomach wasn’t churning anymore. I wiped my brow, surveying the bloody mess. I pushed down the overwhelming feeling of horror. I had a job to do. The tears and nightmares could come later. “It’s going to be a long night. I want this entire building and the property around it scoured thoroughly.” I leaned over to Todd. “Get the details of these two murders to the feds. They might send some help.” “Will do.” My first deputy scribbled on his pad. “When word gets out about a second slasher killing, the media’s going to be all over this place,” he warned. Todd was right. Blood Rock was about to become a three-ring circus. I sighed heavily. “I’d better call the mayor and prepare him.” Talking to Mayor Ed was one of my least favorite things to do. The man had no common sense and he was always more worried about the town’s image than the people affected by tragedy. Bobby pushed his sleeves up and lifted his camera. Several flashes lit the room as he began the tedious process of visually documenting the crime scene. One door and two windows into the room. The owners were out of town, leaving the perfect spot for a sadist to act out his deranged fantasies. Had Hannah been unknowingly lured here, or had she been accosted? Either way, whoever the killer was, he was familiar enough with the community, and he had a monstrous craving for Amish girls. Daniel’s strong arm slipped around my waist and he tugged me closer. I didn’t pull away. He was warm and solid. We’d had our ups and downs, but he was always there for me. And this time, I really needed his support. The bishop had said the devil was at work here. I wasn’t sure if he’d meant it figuratively or for real. I thought back to just that morning. The university anthropology team had uncovered bones that might prove that a massacre had taken place in Blood Rock and that was how the town got its morbid name. With all the ghastly cases I’d worked on since becoming sheriff, and now these murders, it made me think that the bishop might be right. Perhaps the town was cursed. I closed my eyes and willed my inner self to shut up. The monster who was terrorizing the Amish community was just a man, and I had to find him before he killed again.

11 CJ

I

leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror. I looked tired. My green eyes were bloodshot and my skin was pale. I’d pulled back the unruly curls into a ponytail to wash my face and now I reached up to tug my hair free. I’d left the city to escape all the drama and a broken heart. But country living hadn’t turned out to be what I’d expected. Two young women were dead and their killer was on the loose. I glanced out the window into the darkness. The Millers didn’t have outdoor lights of any kind. The only light came from the moon and tonight there was barely a sliver of it. Occasionally, a cow mooed, but otherwise, everything was quiet. I jumped when I heard the loud knocking on the door. I grabbed my robe off the door hook since I was wearing pajama shorts and a t-shirt with no bra. As I passed through the kitchen, I stopped at the utensil drawer and pulled out the biggest knife I could find. I didn’t own a gun and a sharp object was the best I could do. A couple of nights ago I never would have thought I needed to be armed to answer the door. But things were different now. I had a legitimate reason to be paranoid. With a racing heart, I pressed up against the door, my hand on the knob. “Who’s there?” “Joshua Miller. May I talk to you?” His voice boomed from the porch. I licked my lips as my insides warmed. My landlord’s voice shouldn’t stir these kinds of feelings, I rebuked myself. But it did. I took a deep breath and opened the door just enough to peek outside. Joshua was still dressed in the same clothes that he’d had on when I dropped him off at his house an hour ago. He looked grim. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour. I was afraid you’d be in bed, but I took a chance when I saw the lights on.” I had every light on in the house and few would blame me. “I was reading

a good book,” I lied. He nodded, smoothing his brown beard down with a tug. His pupils were dilated, making his blue eyes appear darker. “Are you going to invite me in or should I speak to you through the crack?” He was so serious all the time I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny. But he wasn’t a dangerous man—at least I didn’t think he’d harm me. His good looks made him dangerous in a different way. I pulled the robe tighter around me and opened the door wide enough for him to pass through, gesturing him to enter. After he passed by, I took a quick survey around the yard and closed the door. Joshua crossed the kitchen and spun around. He looked me up and down, then glanced away and back again. His nervous behavior was starting to affect me. “What’s going on?” I snapped. He saw the knife I was holding and swallowed. His eyes strayed to my bare legs and shot back to my face. “I don’t think you should be here alone.” He held my gaze, challenging me to argue. A part of me agreed with him, but my feminist side swelled. The only person who’d hurt me lately had been a man I’d trusted and loved. “Because of those girls’ murders?” His head bobbed. “What was done to Makayla and Hannah was pure evil. Until the devil is arrested, no woman is safe.” His choice of words reminded me of how different our cultures were. “Are you thirsty?” I said too quickly. His eyes widened. “Not at the moment.” I put the knife back in the drawer and pulled out a cola from the refrigerator. After I sat at the kitchen table and took a sip, I stared at the can. My pounding heart slowed. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” I tried to keep my eyes from drifting to the drawer with the knife, feeling a little foolish. When I looked up, Joshua was smiling and his cheeks were a little red. “Oh, I’m sure you can. And I admire your bravery.” He sobered and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “But this is beyond what a woman can protect against.” “I’ll talk to Serenity about getting a gun,” I quipped, wondering why Joshua Miller cared so much. “Do you even know how to use one? I have an extra rifle, but a weapon in untrained hands can be dangerous.” Now it was my turn to smile. “My ex-boyfriend was a cop. I used to go to

the shooting range with him sometimes—he insisted. I practiced with a pistol, not a long gun, but I suppose it’s not much different.” Joshua removed his hat, placing it in front of him on the table. He ran his fingers through his wavy brown locks. “I still don’t like the idea of you being here in this house alone.” I straightened and narrowed my eyes at the Amish man. “Are you using this as an excuse to kick me out?” “No, no. That’s not what I meant.” He frowned. “I don’t understand.” Joshua fidgeted in his seat. “Perhaps for the time being you should stay in the big house with my family. We have a guest room. It won’t have the electric conveniences you’re used to, but at least you’ll be safe.” He met my confused gaze and looked away. “A few hours ago, you were worried about what your community would say about me renting the cottage from you. Now you’re okay with me moving into your private residence?” “It’s only temporary—until the sheriff finds the murderer among us.” I couldn’t stop from smirking. “If I was that afraid, I’d stay with Serenity or at the hotel in town.” His frown deepened. “This is a serious matter, and I feel responsible for you.” “You hardly know me. I’m just a renter,” I shot back. I didn’t know why I was so combative with Joshua. He was just trying to be nice—and what was going on was serious. Maybe it was a defense mechanism to prevent me from being hurt. Or maybe I was frustrated because there were sparks between us, at least I thought there were. But we could never explore those feelings. He was Amish and I wasn’t. Simple as that. When I looked up, his face was troubled and he was holding his breath. When he breathed out, he put his hat on his head. “Wait, you don’t have to leave right now.” I stood in unison with him. He held his hands up and backed away. “I’m sorry. I overstepped my bounds. You’re not my responsibility.” I saw the hurt on his face and I wanted to kick myself. “I appreciate your concern—really, I do. I’m just not ready to run away from my new home yet. I came here to be independent and that’s what I’m going to do.” A faint smile lifted on his mouth. “You’re stubborn, like my wife was.” He shook his head. “But that same stubborn streak ended her life.” My heart dropped into my stomach, and I had to force myself to breathe. “Why do you say that?” I whispered.

He grunted, his eyes wild. “She didn’t listen. I told her not to take the buggy out in the storm, but she did anyway. The creek flooded and the bridge crumbled beneath her. She was swept away and drowned.” He rubbed his eyes, and when they fastened on me, they were moist. “Perhaps that’s why I’m being overly cautious about your safety. I wasn’t able to save my wife.” I stepped toward him, but he swiveled, heading for the door. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Keep that knife handy just in case.” He paused, looking over his shoulder. “Thank you for driving me to the meeting. I apologize if my people frightened you. The circumstances of the girls’ murders have us all on edge. We don’t normally behave that way.” “It was a little crazy,” I admitted. “Thank you. That’s a nice way to put it.” When he stepped onto the porch, I followed him, clutching the door. I hated to see him walk away. I was reluctantly closing the door when he called out once more. “Nana might call you to ask about driving her into town sometime. John mentioned to her how you drove me to the meeting. I told her to leave you alone, but like all the females in my life, she probably won’t listen.” His back was to me and he was moving up the driveway too fast for me to reply. I grinned to myself. As insane as it was, I was hoping she did call me. It would be nice to have her as a friend, and I’d be able to see Nora and Sylvia more often. I wouldn’t mind the company, either. The sound of Joshua’s footsteps faded away and I peered out into the darkness. Bumps rose on my arms and the back of my neck. A killer was out there somewhere. I said a silent prayer for Serenity’s success in capturing him. Joshua thought I was brave, but I wasn’t. Until the murderer was behind bars, I knew I wouldn’t sleep much.

12 SERENITY

“D

o you have any leads on the Amish murders, Sheriff?” the woman asked. With short brown hair and a navy pantsuit, she reminded me of a flight attendant. She thrust a mic in my face, and a cameraman pointed his equipment over the table, filming me. We hadn’t eaten all day and stopping into Nancy’s Diner for bite had seemed like a good idea at the time. How wrong we were. Afternoon sunlight spilled in through the windows, warming my face. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I wasn’t going to let a pushy reporter set me off. Todd wasn’t so patient. “Get that thing out of here. You already know Sheriff Adams is holding a press conference tomorrow.” He stood, waving the woman and man backward. The woman opened her mouth to argue, but Todd was quicker. “I’ll escort you out of town if you don’t back off.” “The community is in fear for their lives—can’t you tell us anything to reassure them?” the woman barked out. I took a deep breath and turned to the woman. “We’re doing everything we can to solve these crimes. I’ll have more information for you tomorrow.” “There, you have your statement.” Todd spread his arms wide and nudged the reporter and cameraman toward the door. When they were out of earshot, I focused on Bobby. Two large files rested beside his plate. He took another bite of fried chicken, followed by a spoonful of mashed potatoes. I wrinkled my nose, glancing down at my plate. There was a small bite missing from the burger and I hadn’t touched the fries. I brought the black coffee to my lips and took a large gulp. The only thing that would get me through this day would be coffee.

“How can you eat like that after that last autopsy?” I tried to block the image of Hannah Kuhns’ rotten corpse on the examination table. I couldn’t help shuddering. Bobby swallowed and set the chicken thigh down. “You get used to it.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was rough early on, but I soon discovered I needed to eat to do a good job.” He looked at my plate. “So do you. You have to keep your strength up.” He was right, but the smell of decay blending with the formaldehyde had done a number on me that morning. I pushed the plate away. “A month ago, I thought the wedding massacre was the most disturbing thing I’d ever witness, but these murders are worse.” I leaned back, lacing my fingers on my lap. “The sheer brutality of these crimes is beyond comprehension.” Bobby grunted. “There’s a dark side to everyone—what psychologists call ‘the shadow’—the evil Mr. Hyde that lurks beneath the surface of each person. What makes some men and women turn their twisted fantasies into reality?” Bobby glanced between me and Todd. We looked at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to say more. “Thank goodness serial killers like Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Edmund Kemper and Joel Rifkin are few and far between. Bloodthirsty monsters have always existed. There are many serial killers who, for whatever reason, never achieve notoriety. They might commit crimes every bit as horrible as the famous killers everyone knows about, but they’re forgotten in history, except for morbid individuals like me who’ve always been fascinated by them.” “I’ve read my fair share of books on the subject.” Todd interjected. “Harvey Glatman, Albert DeSalvo and Albert Fish are a few others that committed inexplicable acts. Decapitation, cannibalism and necrophilia happen a lot more often than people think.” “I did a college essay on serial killers. One who really bothered me was Edward Gein,” I said. “Wasn’t that the true story that was the inspiration for the movie Psycho?” Todd interrupted. “Yep. He murdered at least two women—one he strung up by a pulley, beheaded and disemboweled. When officers searched his ramshackle farmhouse, they discovered a house of horrors. There were chairs upholstered in human flesh, soup bowls made from sawed-off tops of human heads and a collection of women’s faces, dried and mounted on the wall, like hunting trophies.” I took a breath. “When it was all said and done, it turns out all those body parts were from local cemeteries. The man was a killer and a grave robber.” Bobby nodded. “Gein was considered a weirdo by his neighbors, but no

one suspected he was capable of murder and the ghoulish crimes he committed on the dead. He was a small, weak man, who had an unhealthy attachment to his mother. When she died of a stroke, he never fully recovered.” “Was his mother’s death the catalyst to his grisly pastimes?” Todd popped a fry into his mouth. “That’s the intriguing thing. Who knows? Many people go through difficult times, suffer horrible tragedies and don’t go around chopping people’s heads off or sewing together vests from human skin.” Bobby twirled the end of his mustache. “With all the study that’s been done on the subject, we’re no closer to finding out why some people become monsters.” “Maybe it’s the devil making them do it?” Bobby and Todd both arched their brows and stared at me. I shrugged. “That’s what Bishop Esch thinks—that Satan is having his way in the Amish community.” “When sensational things happen, it’s easy to blame a supernatural force, especially within a devoutly religious order, like the Amish. But our killer is merely a man—a sickeningly twisted one—nothing more.” Bobby looked pretty sure of himself. He was a Christian and we’d attended the same church for years. But he was also a scientist and that’s how his mind worked. Me, I wasn’t so certain. “I never used to believe in supernatural mumbo-jumbo, but after watching the Amish medicine man heal young Mervin Lapp, I’m open to almost anything —even real-life demons getting into people.” Bobby shook his head, but Todd exclaimed, “Me too. I understand crimes of passion or drugs affecting people. Hell, I even get murder for financial gain. That all makes sense to me, but what was done to those two girls was just plain evil.” Bobby didn’t seem to like the direction of the conversation. He sat straighter, holding his hand out in front of him. “Most serial killers have a few things in common. They come from deeply troubled families, they’ve been dominated by their mothers, which causes them to have an intense hatred of women in general.” He lifted a finger with each item on his list. “They usually have a long history of psychiatric problems, criminal behavior and alcoholism in their families. As children, they suffer psychological, physical and often sexual abuse. Their psychotic behaviors manifest early in life and they display an interest in deviant sexuality and pornography.” “And they like to torture animals,” I added. Bobby nodded vigorously. “Jeffery Dahmer is a prime example of that. He started out killing small animals as a child and graduated to humans in adulthood.” He leaned back. “There are psychological clues, or triggers, to look

for.” Sipping my coffee, I digested everything Bobby had said. “Should we bring in a profiler?” Todd asked. “I won’t take any option off the table, but I think we already have a profile for this guy,” I said, looking to Bobby. He nodded and opened the top file. “Since I discovered another paper rose in Hannah’s abdomen, the same as Makayla, I’m taking it as his signature. He wants us to tie the murders together.” “The paper rose is significant in itself, though,” I said. “It’s unique—and takes some time and technique to create.” I ran my hands through my blonde hair and tightened the ponytail with a yank. “They must have a symbolic meaning to the killer.” “I agree.” Bobby handed me a printout showing several paper flowers. One was circled. “I believe the rose would have looked like this before it was inserted into the bodies. After soaking up blood and stomach fluids, they became these.” He pushed pictures of the actual paper flowers pulled from the girls across the table. I studied the photographs, noting the difference between the flowers not shoved up into a human cavity. “The paper rose in its original form is beautiful —the after pictures are gross, and almost unrecognizable.” “Maybe that’s it.” Todd took the pictures from me and looked at them. “The killer took two beautiful, vibrant young women and destroyed them—the same way he destroyed the flowers.” “You might be onto something.” I jotted down what he said into my notepad. “Both girls were murdered in secluded places, where the killer knew he wouldn’t be interrupted.” I took a deep, slow breath, scanning the reports Bobby passed me. “Makayla and Hannah had their wrists tied behind their backs, but whereas Makayla’s initial scuffle didn’t result in massive injury, Hannah’s head was bashed into the wall. She might have been unconscious when the rape occurred. Poor Makayla wasn’t so lucky. The scratches across her legs indicate she fought the entire time.” Bobby folded his hands in front of him and remained quiet, telling me I was correct so far. “Both girls were violently raped and there where bite marks on their breasts.” I swallowed, letting myself remember the wounds on each body. As difficult as it was to dwell on every sickening detail, I had to do it. It kept the fire burning steadily in my gut, giving me the clarity I needed to solve the crimes. “Both girls were strangled with a wire or rope cord of some kind— although Hannah might already have passed from her head wound. The slashes to the necks and bellies were similar, although Hannah’s injuries gaped more, probably because she was the first of the two murdered, even though her body

was discovered second.” “The killer is improving his technique.” Bobby sighed. “He might have been more careful with Makayla to keep her from becoming unconscious before he’d had his way with her.” Todd gasped and took a swig of his cola. He stared out the window, for once, without words. “That would make sense. As terrible as Makayla’s crime scene was, Hannah’s was worse, even if you remove the decaying factor.” “I agree. Hannah’s viscera were greatly lacerated, whereas Makayla’s were removed from the body without too much damage.” Bobby bent over his notes. “Makayla’s rose was in better shape than Hannah’s.” He pointed with his pencil. “I’m not sure we would have recognized its shape if we’d found this one first.” I scratched my head and glanced between the reports. “I don’t see the connection between these two girls.” I looked up. “And that’s the most important factor in determining who killed them, and stopping another murder.” Todd leaned in. “Have you considered it’s just a random nut job?” I snorted. “No, it’s not random at all. The girls were both Amish and the MO is the same—but the girls weren’t friendly with each other and they didn’t work together.” “They belonged to the same church, though. I’m sure they came into contact on a regular basis,” Bobby said. Each community was made up of several churches, each containing about fifteen families. Since church services were held at individual family’s homes, the numbers had to be kept in check. When a church grew too large, it broke in half, creating another one. A couple of years ago I hadn’t known anything about the Amish culture; now I had a pretty good idea of how they governed themselves. They were like their own nation in many ways. But I agreed with Bobby—the girls would have definitely known each other. “When will you have DNA results back from the vaginal swabs of both girls?” I asked Bobby. “It’ll be a few days. If our guy has an arrest record, then his DNA is in the system.” I rubbed my temple. “That would be nice. But I’m not holding my breath. Something might have pushed this killer over the edge and these are his first victims. The bishop has arranged for me to interview most of the community tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll get some answers and develop a timeline for each girl that will ultimately lead back to the other one.” “I’m surprised you’re not going out there today,” Bobby commented. “I’m heading to Bilsby this afternoon with Daniel. I have a gut feeling the

girl murdered there might be connected to our girls. The sheriff thought so too and really pressured me to make the trip as soon as possible.” “What about the feds? Are they interested in what’s going on in our little town?” Bobby looked up from his notes, and over his glasses. “The local guys are busy with that drug ring they broke up in Middlesboro. They don’t have manpower to send anyone right now. We’re on our own with this one.” I didn’t mind. Sometimes toes got stepped on when multiple departments tried to work together. In this case, with our affiliation with the Amish people, we probably had the best chance of finding the killer. At least I hoped so. Grisly photos spilled from Bobby’s notebook, and when I saw Mayor Fred and Elayne heading our way, I shoved them back into the file, closing it just as they reached the table. The mayor was a tall guy with graying hair and soft features. He was a typical politician, more concerned with lying to get votes than getting anything worthwhile done. The worry creasing his face wasn’t because he feared for the Amish people or felt bad for the victims and their families. It was because he didn’t want the quaint little town of Blood Rock to be adversely affected by the grisly crimes, and the bad press that came along with them. “How long until the deviant creature who murdered those poor girls is captured, Sheriff?” The mayor’s eyes were bloodshot. I found a little happiness that he hadn’t had much sleep recently, either. I bit my lower lip and ignored Elayne’s I’m so sorry the mayor is an idiot look. “We’re doing the best we can, Mayor. We’re following some leads and understand how imperative it is that we find the killer. I’ll text you when we have any new information.” I dismissed him, chugging the last of my coffee. “If you’ll excuse us, we all have to get back on it—there’s no time to waste on this one.” A look of irritation flitted across the mayor’s face, and was gone when he brightened considerably, as if he’d just thought of something important. “Before you do anything else, you need to head down to the river to meet with Professor Mullens.” He waved his hand. “He thinks he’s found another murder site from the 1700s.” I blinked, trying to make sense of the foolishness he was spewing. I stood and leaned into the mayor’s personal space. He backed up a step. “We have a deranged serial killer on the loose in our county,” I hissed. “And you want me to go check on the excavation of something that happened hundreds of years ago? Are you insane?”

Bobby lowered his head and Todd smirked. Mayor Fred’s face turned bright red and he narrowed his eyes. “There’s a chance Blood Rock will be featured in an episode of National Geographic if these university yahoos find what they’re looking for.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “This could mean major tourism opportunities for us.” He smoothed down his suit jacket and tilted his head, altering his voice to be more demanding. “That wasn’t a request, Sheriff. It was an order. You talk to the professor and make sure he has everything he needs.” My mouth dropped open and the mayor held up his hand. “I’ve noticed that you work well under pressure. Keep up the good work. You’ll get your man. I have complete confidence in you.” I shook my head and Elayne covered her mouth, looking away. How the new assistant district attorney could find this amusing was anyone’s guess. I sometimes envied the brunette’s twisted sense of humor. The mayor just pissed me off most of the time. “Five minutes—that’s all I’m giving Professor Mullens,” I promised the mayor. He lips thinned, but he didn’t respond. Instead he called out, “Nancy, I’ll have the usual.” He glanced at Elayne. “I’ll be with you in a moment and place my order then,” she said, smiling prettily. When the mayor was gone, I dropped down in the seat, suddenly exhausted. Bobby stood. “I’ll call you later if anything unusual comes up with Hannah’s bloodwork.” “I thought you handled that rather well,” Todd said. “At least I didn’t shoot him.” Elayne purred out a little laugh and I glanced at her, wondering why she was still there. She was four inches taller than me, and with her long dark hair and doe eyes, looked like a super model. She also used to be Amish and had had a crush on Daniel when they were teenagers. I’d pretty much gotten over it, although she still annoyed me occasionally. But I’d discovered she came in handy, too. Her personal knowledge of the culture and her womanly wiles had helped me solve crimes on more than one occasion. “May I talk to you? It will only take a sec.” Her face tightened and I realized it was serious. “Of course,” I motioned for her to sit. Elayne made Todd nervous, and as I would have guessed, he nudged me out of the seat so he could take his leave.

“I’ll get to work on those phone calls and the paperwork we talked about. Keep me posted on what you find out in Bilsby.” I nodded and he tipped his hat to Elayne. When we were alone, Elayne crossed her arms and leaned over the table. “Bilsby, Ohio?” “Yeah. Are you familiar with the town?” “There’s an Amish settlement in Bilsby—I have a cousin or two from there, I think.” I raised a brow. “Funny how you’re all connected in one way or another.” She grunted, rolling her head. “That we are.” She licked her lips, looked around the restaurant, which had emptied considerably from when I’d arrived earlier, and lowered her voice. “I have some information that might help you— nothing dramatic, mind you—just interesting.” When Elayne paused, my own eyes shifted around the diner. The mayor was too far away to eavesdrop, and besides, he was having a rowdy conversation with Nancy. Three elderly ladies sat two tables away, but I doubted they could hear much past three feet around their table. A boisterous road crew was sitting at the counter, paying no attention to us. I felt foolish and overly paranoid when I turned back to Elayne. I was also getting impatient. I was supposed to meet Daniel at the convenience store out on Route 48 in thirty minutes. If I didn’t get away soon, I’d be late. Luckily, the place where Professor Mullens was working was on the way. “Just spit it out, Elayne,” I growled. “There’s a killer out there—I don’t have time for this.” She took a breath and exhaled. “Hannah Kuhns had been staying with me over the past few weeks. She was preparing to leave the Amish for good.” I wasn’t exactly shocked about Hannah wanting to go English. She’d messed around with an Englisher and gotten herself pregnant, and then tried to abort it. She’d been living on the wild side for a while. I’d hoped that her near death experience with Ada Mae’s poisonous herbs and losing a nice beau like Eli Bender would have set her on the right path, whatever that might have been. But I’d had a feeling her life wasn’t going to quiet down for a while. She was just that kind of girl, but I never dreamed she’d be slaughtered. What surprised me more about Elayne Weaver’s revelation was that she was mixed up in whatever shady business Hannah might have been involved in. Elayne recognized the direction my mind was going in. “When I left the Amish, someone helped me—a cousin who’d become English a few years before. If it hadn’t been for her support, I would have never made it out.” She leaned back as if to say and look at me now. “I couldn’t turn Hannah away. She

reminded me of myself all those years ago.” “I really hope you weren’t as reckless as that girl was.” I ignored Elayne’s widened eyes. “Who was she hanging out with? Do you have names I can run with?” Elayne looked blankly at me. “There wasn’t anyone she told me about.” When my mouth curved in disbelief, she hurriedly said, “She was still in conversion mode. Her mother had gone out of town to take care of her sick sister about a month ago. I was always close to the Kuhns—I’d even babysat Hannah when she was a small child. I’d stayed in contact with Irene, and when Hannah continued to act out, she asked if I’d allow Hannah to stay with me while she was away. Aaron agreed to it, knowing what a handful the girl was.” She frowned. “I think he expected her to leave and didn’t believe she was worth trying to rehabilitate. She was a troubled girl and he knew it.” I nodded. It made sense. The bishop had behaved the same way when Naomi Beiler had disappeared. He figured she’d run away and basically had thought, Good riddance. She might corrupt other Amish teens and he wouldn’t have any of that. “When you say conversion mode, what does that mean?” “She was still acting Amish. She had a job at the new Dinner Bell Market and Restaurant, and I dropped her off there each morning before I came to work and picked her up in the evening. She attended church services and youth social gatherings.” She flipped her long hair back and leaned in closer. “She still had one foot in. She was taking her time making her decision.” “Besides other Amish people or customers at the Dinner Bell, was there anyone else she hung out with?” “No one that she told me about—not even a boyfriend. Ever since Eli’s death, she hadn’t been as interested in finding a beau.” Her brow lifted. “What about Arlo Thomas—wasn’t he the father of the child she lost? Have you talked to him?” “He was arrested a couple months ago on drug charges. He pleaded guilty for a reduced sentence and is serving a year in the Indiana Department of Corrections.” “Deep down Hannah was a good girl. Sure, she had her issues, but we all did at that age.” When I lifted a brow and stared hard at her, she quickly added, “Yeah, I know, she was troubled, but she also liked to watch movies and read books, like other girls her age.” “Books? Did she do a lot of reading?” I thought of Makayla, and the book Bobby found in her pocket. Elayne smiled, nodding her head. “She was quite the reader—she

especially liked romance novels.” She snorted softly. “After she got through the few I had on my shelves, she began picking up her own.” “Where would she find those kinds of books around here?” My mind was toying with the coincidence, and wondering if it was really that—a coincidence. Elayne pursed her lips. “I don’t know really. Maybe the library or the grocery store. It doesn’t matter, does it? She liked to read, and it was a positive thing in her sometimes shady life.” She leaned further over the tabletop. “You have to solve this one, Serenity.” Her voice cracked and her eyes moistened. She took a napkin from the table and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone. What a horrific way to die. She was a wild girl, but she didn’t deserve that kind of death.” I agreed with her. “No one does.”

13 CJ

N

ora ran ahead, with Sylvia right on her heels. When they went through the doorway to the Dinner Bell Market, I resisted the urge to sprint ahead of Nana. She was the kids’ great-grandmother after all. If she wasn’t worried about them getting ahead of us, I supposed neither should I. But I still looked anxiously back, willing the elderly woman to move faster. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” Nana’s English was a little choppy, like she spoke the Amish language more frequently. I forced myself to slow down so she could catch up with me. “I’m thirty-two,” I said cautiously. “Oh, my. You’re aging very well. I would have guessed ten years younger.” I couldn’t help smiling. The Amish woman wasn’t trying to butter me up. She was genuinely surprised by my age. “People tell me that a lot—that I look younger.” I grunted good-naturedly. “When I was twenty-one, I looked fourteen. Bouncers thought my ID was fake.” Nana looked up at me expectantly and I had an ah, darn it moment. As far as I knew, the Amish didn’t drink, let alone go to bars. Not wanting to give her a bad impression of me, I changed the subject. “This is a neat place. Did you say there’s a restaurant, too?” Nana was easily distracted. She stopped to look at the tomatoes in a large bin. “Oh, yes. Mostly sandwiches and such, but the food is lovely.” She reached out and touched my arm, smiling wickedly. “But I might be biased. Anytime I don’t have to cook, I enjoy the meal.” “I thought Amish women loved to cook,” I teased. That impression had mostly been formulated from Serenity’s enthusiasm for Amish cooking. “Some do, some don’t. I’d rather be working in my garden or sewing.” She picked out several pretty tomatoes and placed them in her cart. “I do the best I can for the family, but if I were alone, I’d be content with peanut butter and jelly

sandwiches.” She winked at me and pushed the cart to the corn bin. I really liked old Nana. We had a lot in common—I didn’t enjoy cooking, either. “Hi, CJ. I guess you’re going to have to join our taxi club.” I whirled around. Caleb was seated in one of the rocking chairs that were for sale on the long porch. He had a book in hand and looked about as relaxed as a person could get without falling asleep. Dick and Martha rocked beside him. Martha waved and Dick smiled. Warm morning sun shone down. If I hadn’t been so anxious about the girls, I would have taken a seat myself while Nana did her shopping. I grinned. “Yeah, I guess I should be inducted into the club.” “We meet every Friday, around eight, at Charlie’s Pub for a drink.” Caleb set his book in his lap. “I didn’t know there was a pub in town.” A little conversation with nonAmish people might not be such a bad thing. Serenity was busy on a normal day, but with the murders to solve, I wouldn’t see much of her for a while. “Sounds fun.” “It’s the best part of the week,” Martha said. Her husband agreed with a nod. “Especially now, with the horrible murders in the community. I’d say a lot of people are drinking more these days.” I glanced between the drivers and their faces sobered at Martha’s words. “It’s awful. I hope they capture the guy soon. I hardly slept last night.” I stifled a yawn. “You and me both, honey.” Martha shook her head, sighing. I spied Nana going in the front door and said my goodbyes to the drivers, hurrying to catch up with her. I was surprised when I entered the building. It was much larger on the inside than I’d expected. To one side there were rows of shelves, stocked with all kinds of dry goods and supplies. On the other was a produce section, a deli, and a meat department. I sniffed the air. The aroma of cooking smells accosted me. I craned my neck to see tables and chairs set up in the back. I caught a glimpse of Sylvia’s blue dress turn down one of the grocery aisles. I swiveled to check on Nana, who had made her way to the fruits and was picking out bananas. She seemed to have forgotten about me altogether. I stretched my legs and followed the smaller girl. When I found Sylvia, she stood alone, staring at a display of rag dolls. They looked homespun and whimsical. “Do you like those?” I breathed out a happy sigh that the girl was within my grasp.

“Yes.” She pointed at one with brown yarn hair and a blue dress. “That’s the prettiest one, I think.” She inched closer and looked around, before cupping the side of her mouth and leaning over. “Nora says dolls are stupid. But I don’t believe her.” She wrapped her arms around her tiny body and pouted. I struggled to keep from laughing. “Well, some little girls like dolls, and others like mean ponies. That’s what makes life interesting.” Sylvia lifted her chin, meeting my gaze. She smiled. “That’s right. A doll is nicer than Ranger.” I couldn’t stop from reaching out and taking the blue dressed doll from the shelf and handing it to the girl. “You were so brave the other day when Ranger ran off with you. This will be your reward.” Her eyes bulged. “I don’t have no money and it’s not my birthday, so Nana won’t buy it.” “It’s a gift from me. We’ll pay for it on the way out.” “Thank you! Thank you!” Sylvia buried her face in my legs. I touched the top of her white cap, thinking how odd it was that a little Amish girl was hugging me. But also how sweet it felt. “Let’s find your sister. We should check out the lunch menu.” “Really?” Her mouth gaped and she held onto my hand with her little one. “Sure. I’m starving—aren’t you?” She nodded vigorously. We passed an aisle filled with every spice and herb imaginable, all homegrown and displayed in clear plastic containers of varying sizes. There was an aisle with fifty-pound bags of flour and another with brightly decorated birdhouses. The latest murder victim had been killed at a birdhouse factory, Serenity had said. My heart sank when I passed the wooden boxes and the two women at the end of the aisle whispering. I heard the words, evil and blood everywhere, and tugged Sylvia to walk faster. I noticed then that there were other small groups of people scattered throughout the building. They were speaking in hushed tones, and there were a lot of glum looks and dark circles under eyes. In the darkness of the night before, the Amish had seemed almost fantastical in their rustic clothing and stoic faces, but here, in daylight, they were ordinary people. They were reeling from the horrific crimes, and like anyone else, they were finding some measure of comfort from their friends. A tap on my shoulder made me jump. “I’m sorry to startle you. But I guess since you got me last night, it’s fair enough.” Katherine Bender grinned and I smiled back.

“It’s good to see you again.” I noted the baby girl in her arms was nearly too large for the small mother to carry. “This seems like a popular place,” I said, unsure what to say to the other woman. “Oh, yes. It certainly is. The market opened its doors some months ago, but the restaurant has only been operating for a few weeks. I think it’s delightful.” Her eyes drifted down to the child gripping my hand. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Hello, Sylvia. Do you have a new friend?” I wasn’t sure whether Katherine meant the doll or me, but Sylvia didn’t hesitate. “Miss CJ saved me from Ranger.” The stubborn pout returned to her lips. “He ran off and she caught me.” She pointed at me. “Oh, my. What excitement.” Katherine kept smiling, but the expression was tight. “You’re blessed to have such a friend. My daughters are in the restaurant with Nora. Run along and sit with them.” Sylvia looked to me for approval and I hesitated. “She’ll be fine—you can see the girls from here—see?” My gaze followed her pointing finger. Sure enough, there was Nora, sitting with three other little colorfully dressed girls. I gave Sylvia a nudge. “I’ll be there in a moment. Save me a seat.” I forced cheerfulness. She handed me the doll and bounded away. I turned to Katherine. “How many children do you have?” “Before Eli died it was seven, now sadly, only six.” I regretted the question, but she’d answered smoothly. The shock of the pain of losing her oldest son had numbed enough that she could talk about it without bursting in tears. “The girls have taken a liking to you. When I ran into Nora, you’re all she talked about.” Katherine looked at me like a hawk surveying a mouse. She might resemble a porcelain doll, but she was anything but meek. I cleared my throat. “They’re sweet girls.” Her brow furrowed and she leaned in. “You seem like a genuinely nice woman and I don’t want to offend you, but I worry about Nora and Sylvia.” My brows shot up and Katherine hurriedly added, “Their mother was a cousin of mine. We knew each other quite well and I feel responsible for the girls.” “What exactly is worrying you?” I worked to keep my tone level and my face passive. She licked her lips and breathed deeply. “The girls are needy right now, and I fear they’re becoming attached to you too quickly.” Her lips thinned and her voice lowered. “Everyone is in a tither about the murders, and the elders are too busy right now to worry about your living arrangements at Joshua’s farm.

But someday, sooner rather than later, I fear, they’ll make their decision. If you’re told you have to leave, it will only hurt the girls further. They’ve already experienced much pain losing their mother and baby brother on the same day.” Her words boomed in my head. “I’d heard a little about Miranda, but nothing about a baby,” I admitted. She stepped closer, shifted the quiet baby to her other hip, and whispered, “The baby died in the crib—SIDS, I believe they called it. Mirn was so distraught, she went out in the storm. That’s when her buggy was swept away in the flood.” I digested what she said. Joshua never mentioned losing a child. My mind spun with the revelation. “It hasn’t been so long ago since both tragedies.” She searched my eyes. “I’m sure you understand my concern—for the children—and Joshua.” She’d said Joshua with more force than needed. I shook my head, holding up my hands. “No, no. You’ve got the wrong idea—” I didn’t get to finish the sentence. “Shhh. I make no accusations. But I’ve always been good at reading people. I talked to Joshua for a moment last night. He was—” She seemed to struggle for the right words. “—more at ease than he’s been since Mirn’s death. The entire family is fragile. I just wanted you think about that.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’ll pray for you all.” She brushed by me and disappeared down the next aisle, leaving me alone and annoyed. Katherine’s unspoken accusation was preposterous. Even as I ranted in my head, I was also kicking myself for fantasizing about a man who was, and always would be, forbidden to me. The Amish woman was right. My presence was probably disrupting everyone. Nana appeared at my side. “I’m finished.” With a full cart, she headed in the direction of the checkout. I nodded and hung my head, walking to the counter in the restaurant. Keeping an eye on Nora and Sylvia, who were still sitting with the other girls, I placed orders for six ham and cheese sandwiches and the same number of fries. I figured everyone would probably like that kind of sandwich, and after Katherine’s sage advice, I didn’t want to work too hard at making the kids like me. The situation was hopeless all the way around. I mumbled, “Thank you,” to the young woman at the counter, and turned with the bag of food. I froze and my heart leaped into my throat. The same teenaged boy who’d I’d seen standing on the podium the night before had his hands resting on the girls’ table, and he was talking to them. Two other boys were hanging around behind him.

I must have blanked out for a moment. When I opened my eyes, I’d crossed the restaurant and was beside the table. I caught Nora’s attention and jerked my head. “We’re leaving. Come on, girls.” I didn’t look at the boy, who was a known trouble maker, and a possible suspect in the murders, but I felt his eyes on me nonetheless. Perhaps I had been reading too many mystery and crime fiction novels lately. I was becoming increasingly paranoid. There was a murderer on the loose, and I wasn’t taking any chances with Joshua’s girls. Nora shoved her sister out the booth. “Do you have food in there?” she asked, eyeing the bag in my arms. “Sure do—ham and cheese sandwiches. Hope you like them.” Both girls smiled broadly and nodded. “I also paid for the doll, so let’s be on our way.” We met up with Nana at the store’s entrance and walked into the hot sunshine together. I slipped my sunglasses on and handed the bag to Nora. She ran ahead to my car, with Sylvia chasing after her. “CJ West, may I have a word with you?” I slowed and looked over my shoulder. A tall, wiry, old Amish man followed close behind. His snow-white beard was the longest I’d seen yet and his bushy eyebrows were raised high. I recognized him from the night before. “It’s Aaron Esch—our bishop,” Nana said hurriedly. She didn’t wait to say greetings to her leader. Instead, she joined the girls. I popped the trunk open with my car keys so they could begin loading the groceries and turned to the bishop. “Can I help you?” My heart was beating erratically. The stern look the man gave me sent shivers along my spine. “I wanted to formally introduce myself.” He extended his hand and I shook it. “But since Nana has already done that, I’ll get straight to the point. Don’t get comfortable at Joshua Miller’s farm. I have too much on my plate at the moment to focus on your living arrangements, but the situation will be addressed in due time.” He looked expectantly at me and I frowned. Arguing with the Amish leader wouldn’t get me anywhere. It was his business to meddle in his people’s lives— and everyone was okay with it, even Joshua. I hung my head. “I understand.” When I glanced up, the bishop was the one frowning. “That was easier than I thought it would be. Isn’t our sheriff a close friend of yours?” “What does that have to do with anything?” I raised my brow. A slight smile cracked the corner of his mouth. “You are a different kind of English woman than Serenity Adams. She would have argued with me. She questions everything and has a difficult nature.”

“That’s what makes her a good sheriff,” I replied. “Very true. She has superb instincts and a courageous soul. But I doubt she’ll make as good a wife as she does a law officer.” He shook his head and turned to leave. “Daniel Bachman’s love will be tested on a daily basis. I pity the man.” I opened my mouth to stick up for my friend, but the bishop had already walked away. Nana touched my shoulder. “Don’t mind him. He’s grumpier than most men—and I should know.” I swiveled to look at her. “I thought you moved here recently.” Her lips spread in a secret smile. “I grew up in the Black Willow settlement in Ohio—same as Aaron.” She winked. “I was a few years older than our dear bishop, and back then he followed me around like a puppy dog.” My eyes strayed to the retreating, black-clad figure. “Really?” She laughed softly. “Is it so hard to imagine the two of us young and vibrant?” “I can see you as a girl clearly.” I nodded my head in the bishop’s direction. “Him, not so much.” Her smile deepened. “He wasn’t always so stoic. When he was a young man, he was dreamy and sweet-natured.” She shrugged. “He’s faced many trials, including his wife’s inability to provide him with children and her death to cancer. He never remarried, choosing to relocate to Blood Rock and become the bishop here.” I heard the melancholy in her voice. “And now you’re a widow and living here, too.” Her eyes popped wide and she laughed heartily. “I’m too old to put up with another man, especially that one.” I grinned at the girls, who were hanging out the car’s window, staring at their great-grandmother with gaping mouths. “You never know, you might be just what he needs to put a smile on his face.” She swatted my arm playfully. “I’ll hear none of that, my girl.” And as if she was tired of the conversation, she changed subjects swiftly. “Do you like meatloaf and mashed potatoes?” “Sure, it’s one of my favorites,” I answered truthfully. “I regret that we’ve been too occupied with the move to be neighborly before now. I hope you’ll join us for dinner tonight.” Butterflies burst to life in my stomach, and it wasn’t just because of the prospect of good food. I’d get to spend the evening with Joshua. And as much as

I hated myself for it, I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted to see him again. Yes, I was stupid, and I was sure Serenity would lecture me about thinking twice about an Amish guy. But I couldn’t erase the growing excitement in my gut. I felt more alive than I had in a long time. I would savor the blissful sensation while it lasted. And then there was the mystery surrounding his wife’s death and the baby boy he’d never mentioned. I wanted to get to the bottom of it. Until recently, I’d taken pride in my instincts. But Ryan had deceived me— perhaps Joshua was, too. I didn’t have much time to figure it out. After all, my days in the Amish community were numbered. I might as well make the most of the time I had left.

14 SERENITY

I

welcomed the cooler air alongside the river, but I couldn’t stop my body from tensing when my gaze drifted downstream to the pile of enormous rocks scattered there. Were they really the remnants of a giant boulder pushed over the cliff to erase the memories of a Native American massacre that had taken place in Blood Rock, giving the town its morbid name? The thought of learning the truth about the legend was more disturbing than I was willing to admit. Some things were better left unknown. I took a steady breath and turned to Professor Mullens. He’d removed his sunglasses and was looking expectantly at me, with two plastic baggies thrust forward. I only had to glance at the contents to know what they were. I had been a history buff in high school and the field trip we’d taken to a Revolutionary War museum a few counties over had left an impression on me. I was also a gun and ammunition enthusiast. What the professor was showing me was a treasure trove for my favorite hobby. But I couldn’t find any enthusiasm for the discovery. The dead Amish girls weighed heavily on my mind. “Musket balls. They’re less prolific than the spearheads you showed me, but still turn up around here from time to time. This area was a hotbed for Revolutionary War battles.” I pursed my lips together and was beginning to leave when the professor grabbed my hand and folded one of the bags into it. I narrowed my eyes, but he couldn’t see them because of the large shades I wore. The professor hadn’t lost the quivering look of excitement, either. I unfurled my hand, noticing the weight of what I held. I brought the bag up closer to my face. There were roughly twenty whitish balls inside and I could see the mold seams on quite a few of them. “They’re heavier than I thought they’d be,” I commented, studying the balls closer. “Oh, yes! They’re made of lead or lead-tin alloys—a very dense metal,”

the professor said, sounding quite pleased with himself. “These are especially good quality balls. They were used with Charleville-style muskets, the kind supplied to the continental army by the French. And you can see here—” He pointed to a misshaped ball. “—some of these are irregular.” He looked up and the corner of his mouth rose. “Those are the ones that hit their targets.” He sucked in a breath, seemingly trying to calm himself. He licked his lips and took a step closer. The college students had paused and were shifting on their feet, titling their heads to listen. “To find so many of these and in the same location is an extraordinary discovery!” he whispered fiercely. “We’ve also found more bone and pottery fragments at this site.” I couldn’t help resenting the man’s enthusiasm. I had a present-day murder mystery to solve. What had happened here over two hundred years ago, although fascinating on any other day, was not important to me at the moment. A killer was on the loose, and even though the mayor didn’t seem too worried, I was terrified he’d strike again. I wanted to be on my way to Bilsby and I’d lost all patience with the anthropologist. “It’s not too surprising, is it?” When the professor’s brows rose, I added, “The legend says a family was gunned down by the river, and that’s why the Native Americans supposedly massacred the settlers on the hilltop. Now you have some proof—you found a bunch of musket balls near the river. Good job.” I handed him the bag and walked back to the narrow, well-worn path that led to the place I’d parked my car. “Wait!” The professor fell in step with me, but I didn’t slow. “I have more important things to worry about. I’m sure you’ve heard about the Amish girls who were killed in the county.” Professor Mullens nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t let him get any words out. “I have to find the killer or another girl may die. You understand why I can’t hang out with you, discussing bullets and bones from bygone days.” When the professor gripped my arm and yanked me to a stop, I rounded on him. “Remove your hand and back off,” I growled. “You don’t understand. The musket balls you held weren’t found at the river—they came from the hilltop overlooking the town.” I stared at the man and he slowed his words with purpose. “They were discovered in the same spot where we found many more bone fragments.” He held up the two bags for me to see again. He lifted one bag higher. “This one is full of musket balls from the hilltop.” He lifted the other bag. “This one contains balls from the riverside. They’re all nearly identical in size and coloration, leading me to believe they’re from the same period and were fired from the same kinds of muzzleloaders.” The woods quieted and stilled as his words echoed in my head. “What does

this mean?” Professor Mullens swallowed and exhaled slowly. “I won’t be able to make any definitive statements until I’ve studied everything we’ve gathered from both sites in the lab.” He lowered his voice. “But I don’t think it was a Native American massacre that took place here at all…”

Sheriff Duncan Moran was not much older than me, but he was a big man, who breathed heavily as he searched through the file box. I glanced at Daniel. He grinned at me with arms folded across his chest. I was glad he’d come along to Bilsby. His calming presence was just what my frayed nerves needed. The sun was shining outside Duncan’s office and a bushy tree’s branches swayed in the breeze. I may have been investigating the savage killings of two young women, but it was a beautiful summer day outside. And then there was the professor’s revelation that morning that was on my mind. The world kept turning, even when terrible things happened. I was both comforted and bothered by the thought. “My best guess is that when those Amish boys ran into the barn, they interrupted Laura Grabill’s killer.” He huffed. “She was still warm when her brothers found her.” He plucked a manila envelope from the box and handed it to me. I imagined what it must have been like for the boys to stumble upon their sister’s body in the dark stall and shivered. Those kids would have nightmares about it for the rest of their days. “You said the only violence done to her was the strangling?” I questioned. “That’s right. It was a garrote of some kind—my coroner suspected a length of thin rope.” He pointed at the envelope I held. “The only odd thing found at the site is in there. Take a gander,” he urged. I held my breath and reached inside with a gloved hand. My heart beat against my ribcage when I pulled the item out. A paper rose rested between my fingertips. I brought it closer to my face to see the intricate folds of paper that formed the perfect flower. This was what the other two had looked like before they’d sponged up Makayla’s and Hannah’s blood and stomach juices, except this one was created from the pages of a book. “Where did you find this?” I whispered, not able to tear my gaze away

from the paper rose. Daniel moved in closer to take a look. “It was lying in the dirt beside the girl. We thought it might have fallen from her pocket during the struggle. Her mother said it was a hobby of hers to create paper flowers.” I finally looked at the sheriff. “I’m not so sure Laura Grabill made this one.” I held it up. “We found one of these inserted into the stomach of each of our vics in Blood Rock. We’re dealing with a serial killer.” “Dammit. The way you rushed over here, I suspected as much.” The burly man shook his head, leaning against his desk and stretching his legs. “Do you have any idea what the connection between Bilsby and Blood Rock is?” “Not yet. But if you give me the go ahead, I’d like to talk to the family and see the crime scene.” His cell phone rang. While I listened to Duncan bark orders, I took my own phone out and snapped a picture of the rose before placing it carefully back into the envelope. “Sure thing, Sheriff. I’ll write the address down. I have shots fired at a residence. Injuries reported. Looks like a domestic issue.” He jotted notes onto a piece of paper and swapped it for the envelope I handed him. “Keep me posted if you dig up anything I missed. I’ll assist in any way to bring this monster in.” He tipped his hat to Daniel and me in turn and hurried out of the office. Sheriff Moran was correct. We were definitely dealing with a monster.

Warm wind blew in from the open windows, whipping my blonde hair against my face. I set the notebook onto my lap and retied the loose strands into a neater ponytail. Farmhouses, red barns and white fences zipped by. Even though I’d never been to the Bilsby community before, it felt familiar. The Amish were notorious for pristine homesteads and colorful flowerbeds. Daniel slowed to carefully pass a buggy pulled by a bay horse. When the clip-clops faded, I returned my gaze to the notes. June 7th—Laura Grabill’s body discovered in Bilsby, Ohio July 6th—Makayla Bowman’s body discovered in Blood

Rock, Indiana July 7th—Hannah Kuhns found in Blood Rock, but likely killed on or about July 1st “What are your thoughts about the connection between Bilsby and Blood Rock, and these three girls?” I glanced at Daniel, who’d been relatively silent since we’d left the sheriff’s office. Daniel sighed, rubbing his hand through his thick, wavy hair. “There are about as many ties between the two settlements as they each have with a dozen other ones. I can’t think of anything special. As far as the girls go, they might all know each other, but Makayla and Hannah weren’t related, and from what I heard, they didn’t hang out, except at church functions. I have no idea how the Grabill girl fits in.” “They’re tied together by paper roses—that’s a ritualistic signature. The sadist committing these crimes is leaving us a calling card for a reason.” “But the one found by Laura Grabill’s body might have been hers. Which makes it even more confusing. Besides, why would the killer do that? I mean, he’s obviously crazy, but what’s the point of leaving a clue behind?” I pushed my sunglasses back on and pondered Daniel’s question, searching back to my criminal psychology classes. “That’s what we have to figure out to catch this guy. The paper roses are significant in some way, and they tie the girls together. A lot of serial killers keep mementos of their crimes. Jeffrey Dahmer had refrigerated heads and Ed Gein lived in a farmhouse full of body part artifacts. Actual calling card-type leavings are less common.” I searched my memories. “The Beltway snipers left the ‘death card’ of the Tarot deck at several of the crime scenes in Maryland and Washington D.C. And Richard Ramirez, or ‘The Night Stalker’ as he was called, used a pentagram as his calling card. Even Jack the Ripper sent Scotland Yard several letters about the Whitechapel murders. In those cases, the murderer was taunting police. They were all as confident as they were brutal. Authorities managed to outsmart Ramirez and the Beltway snipers, John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, but of course, the Ripper was never caught.” “So you think this guy is teasing you?” I looked out at a field full of horses. A few had foals by their sides. Their tails whisked at the flies and one of the foals darted away from the fence beside the road when we passed. As usual, the tranquil scene was a lie. A killer was hiding in one of these Amish settlements.

“I’m not sure if he’s goading us on or simply leaving something behind to make a statement. That’s what we have to figure out.” Daniel pulled into a gravel driveway and parked beside the barn near the roadway. It was the only one on the property. The small white house was situated a few hundred feet behind the barn. A plastic swing set and a couple of bikes littered the yard. Two large black dogs wandered from the porch toward the Jeep. “Not exactly what I was expecting,” I commented, turning the door handle. Daniel reached out to stop me. “The Amish are like everyone else. Some struggle with hardships.” I caught his eye and he squeezed my arm. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need—I got your back.” Normally, I wasn’t the public-display-of-affection type, but I couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing him. He smelled so good—woodsy and outdoorsy—and his mouth made me forget about the Amish girls’ disemboweled bodies for a moment. “Someday we’re going to catch a break and we can start planning the wedding,” he murmured against the side of my face. His words made me tense and pull back. Avoiding eye contact, I stared at the police tape strung across the doorway of the barn. “That would be nice. But even when we get our killer, there will be a lot of paperwork, and healing in the community.” Daniel grunted. “I understand this isn’t the best time to plan a wedding, but with your job, we might never have any downtime.” His voice was pitched and I risked a look his way. I saw the worry etched on his face. I reached over, took his hand and squeezed. “You said there was no rush.” He forced a smile. “That was before all the death and destruction. First, the wedding massacre, and now this. The world’s gone crazy. Don’t you want to settle down and be happy for a change?” The look of desperation in his eyes made me blink back tears. He was right. The world was a pretty shitty place. Even though we were still young, there was no telling how long we had—especially in my line of work. Daniel’s faith and hopefulness had saved me on more than one occasion. I felt I owed it to him to settle his own nerves for a change. I was trained to handle murder and mayhem. Daniel wasn’t. “I promise, once this guy’s behind bars and everything settles down, we’ll begin planning the wedding.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I’m holding you to that promise.” “I’m sure you will.” A couple with a few young boys in tow walked toward the Jeep. I nodded in their direction and took a deep breath. “It’s show time.”

15 SERENITY

L

aura Grabill’s parents were still shaken from losing their daughter. Mr. Grabill walked slowly with his head down and his wife’s face was pale, her eyes sunken. If I had to guess, I would say neither one of them had had a decent night’s sleep in a month. “I’m Sheriff Serenity Adams from Blood Rock, Indiana.” I thrust out my hand and Mr. Grabill reluctantly shook it. Mrs. Grabill didn’t bother, but she did stare at me with those hollow eyes. The dark-haired children looked up in the same way. I swallowed and cleared my throat. A rooster crowed from the barn and a dog barked in the distance. The scent of recently cut grass reached my nose and I breathed in the pleasant aroma. “Sheriff Moran sent me here to ask you some questions about your daughter’s death.” “Murdered. The life was squeezed right out of her—” Mrs. Grabill pointed to the barn. “—right in there. Just a few steps from our home.” Her face contorted and she began trembling. Her husband slipped his arm around her in an uncharacteristic show of affection by an Amish man in front of strangers. He murmured some words in his language to her, making a shushing sound. “I cannot do this again, James.” She turned to me and mouthed I’m sorry before whirling on her heels, grasping the hand of the youngest boy and hurrying back to the house. The woman’s pain affected me, but I didn’t let it show. “I apologize for upsetting her. I’m sure the last thing you want to do is talk about what happened to Laura.” Mr. Grabill shook his head vigorously. “If it must be done to find out who took her life, then I’ll answer any questions of you.” I pulled out my notepad, jolted into action since the man was so willing to cooperate. That wasn’t always my experience with the Amish. I jotted down notes as Mr. Grabill answered a round of basic questions.

The two little boys hung back, watching me closely and listening to the conversation. When I finally turned my attention to them, they were ready. “You must be Marlen.” The taller boy nodded. “How old are you?” “Eight,” Marlen said. He nodded at his brother. “Merle is six. Do you want me to show you where we found Laura?” I worked hard to keep my face neutral. A glance at Daniel showed his eyes wide with surprise. Kids handled tragedy differently than adults. An unfeeling attitude about the death of their sister might just be a coping mechanism. When they got older they’d probably be haunted by what they’d seen. A few years of detachment so they could be kids and grow up wasn’t a bad thing. I looked at Mr. Grabill. “Is it all right for them to take me there?” He swallowed hard and nodded once. The boys took off, entering the barn through a side door. I caught Daniel’s eyes and then shifted mine toward Mr. Grabill. The man was staring at the doorway his sons had disappeared through. I hoped Daniel understood what I wanted. “James, you have a fine herd of Herefords.” Daniel gestured toward the brown and white cows in the pasture. Mr. Grabill’s face lifted a little. “I bought my first one about fifteen years ago. Now I have over a hundred head.” “I’d like to take a look at them.” Daniel smiled, but I knew him well enough to see he was trying to come off as genuinely interested in the herd. Mr. Grabill glanced my way. “Go ahead. As long as you’re okay with me talking to the boys.” I swallowed, working hard not to let my impatience show. Mr. Grabill removed his hat, ran his hand through his hair and replaced it. His blue, button up shirt was sweat stained and his suspenders were loose. There was a time, not so long ago, that his dress would have distracted me, but not anymore. “It would be easier on me.” He shrugged, looking away. “I don’t like hearing about it. But I see it’s important—especially with the killings in Blood Rock.” “You know about that?” My brows rose. It had only been a couple of days and without the usual mode of information relay, like cell phones, TV and the internet, I was surprised news had already traveled to Bilsby. “We have aunts, uncles and cousins in that community. Katherine Bender left a message on the community telephone last night. Bishop Esch believes the same person who took Laura’s life murdered those other girls.” Damn. Aaron Esch was ahead of the pack as usual. It would have been nice

if he’d talked to me about his suspicions, though. “Are you related to Katherine?” An image of the grieving woman appeared in my mind. I’d call her my first Amish friend. She was attractive and feisty, and luckily for me, a woman who liked to talk. “She’s a second cousin. We were in Blood Rock a couple of weeks before…Laura was murdered, for a wedding.” He stumbled over his words, closing his eyes briefly to gather his composure. My heartrate sped up. “Did your daughter go along to the wedding?” “Of course. All our children did. Weddings are the way our people stay connected.” I didn’t let my mind wander to the last and only Amish wedding I’d attended as I made my way into the barn. “Do you know an Englishman by the name of Charlie Saunders?” His face was blank and I added, “He’s a big man, maybe six-foot-seven. If you saw him, you’d remember.” Mr. Grabill shook his head. “Do you think he’s the murderer?” “Oh, no—someone we’re looking into. That’s all.” His moist eyes held mine. “I’ll pray our Lord guides you to the truth and delivers us from this evil that has come upon us.” He turned before I had a chance to respond, walking stiffly away. Daniel hurried to catch up. Since the main sliding door was closed, the interior of the barn was only dimly lit by shards of sunlight coming through the gaps in the wood. Dust particles floated in the air and I stifled a sneeze, walking quickly to catch up to the boys. They stood outside of a box stall, one of many lining one side of the building. Halters and lead ropes hung neatly outside each stall. A few bales of hay were stacked to the side. The whinny of a horse from further up the aisle answered my question. The building was used as a horse stable. I stood behind the boys and peered into the stall that was roped off with yellow police tape. It was roughly a twelve-foot square. There were fresh wood shavings scattered on the ground and a dip in the middle that was swept relatively clean. In the corner was an empty cage. A water bottle still hung from the side of it and I could see a layer of hay inside. “That’s where she was.” Marlen pointed at the depression in the middle of the stall. “It was dark and I tripped right over her.” Marlen’s face was all seriousness and Merle rubbed his hand along the wooden door frame, staring at the ceiling. “Why did you come into this particular stall at night?” “It wasn’t night—early in the morning. I kept my rabbits in the cage.” He

stuck his hands in his pockets, puffing out his chest like an old man. “I done moved ‘em to another stall. Sheriff Moran told me not to come in here no more.” “Me, neither,” Merle piped up. I carefully planned my words before I spoke as Marlen looked up expectantly. Working with kids on investigations was tricky business. A wealth of information could be buried in their little heads, but there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, especially when the crime was the murder of a family member. I licked my lips and surveyed the inside of the barn. There were only three doorways I could see—two sliding doors at each end of the long hallway and the small doorway we’d entered through. The one closest to us had the police tape on the other side. I hadn’t noticed if the other one was taped off as well. “Did you hear anything at all when you entered the barn that morning?” “Nope.” Marlen’s face scrunched. “Except the dogs were barking.” “I heard a noise,” Merle said. “You never said so before,” Marlen said harshly. “No one asked me.” The younger boy lifted his chin, glancing between his brother and me. I knelt down and looked the boy in the eye. “What did you hear, Merle?” “Marlen was talking ‘bout something, like usual, but there were footsteps and the door down there opened. I heard it move on the track.” “You should’ve told Dat,” Marlen scolded. Merle kicked some dirt with his boot, hanging his head. “It’s all right.” I patted his arm. “It’s good you’re telling me now.” I stood, facing the doorway at the end of the hallway. “Did you see your sister the night before you found her body?” “Yah, she went to bed early—said she had a new book to read.” He leaned in, partially covering his mouth with his hand. “It was a secret.” “Wasn’t she allowed to read?” I asked. “Oh, yah, but not kissing books.” “Do you know where the book is now?” I held my breath. “In her room—under the mattress. That’s where she kept stuff she didn’t want to be found.” His mouth thinned and he peeked around the corner. He looked back at me with a determined face. “I can get it for you if you want.” A little voice warned me to talk to the parents first, but I ignored it. The last thing I needed was for Mr. and Mrs. Grabill to become tight lipped if there was something they considered to be shady going on with their daughter. A romance novel wouldn’t be a big deal to the parents of most teenage girls, but I guessed it wouldn’t be appropriate reading for an Amish girl. Since both

Makayla and Hannah were romance readers, I might have just found another thing the girls all had in common. “Yes. Bring me the book.” When he turned to run away, I snatched his arm, stopping him. “For now, it would be better if no one knew about the book except us.” I held my breath and widened my eyes. Kids were wildcards. But the one thing I’d learned long ago about Amish children—they liked to keep secrets, and they were good at sneaking around. The boy’s face brightened and he leaned in, whispering fiercely. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. I won’t tell.” His face lost some of the fierceness and his jaw sagged. “I hope it helps find the bad person who killed my sister.” While I waited for the boy to return, my heart pounded madly. My gaze traveled slowly around the barn, taking in the neatly hung bridles on the stall doors and the swept hallway. Merle sat on a bale of hay, plucking stems, one by one, and tossing them on the floor, creating a little mess. Poor kid was nervous. I couldn’t blame him. In the silence of the cavernous barn, I imagined the scraping sounds of a scuffle. The killer would have taken care to silence Laura quickly, to keep from waking her parents. Maybe she managed to get out a little shriek or a moan, but with the wide boards, a yard, and the house walls between her and her family, no one would have heard. Just like the locations of Makayla’s and Hannah’s murders, this was a fairly secluded building in a rural setting. The killer was comfortable in the country. He was also savvy enough to plan his escapes to get away, vanishing without a trace. But his tactics were evolving. With the Blood Rock girls, he’d picked places where no one would happen upon him. He didn’t get to finish what he’d started with Laura Grabill, so he changed things up. He was adaptable and that scared the hell out of me. I walked over to the stall door and stared at the place where Laura had been brought to the ground. Hannah was petite, but Makayla and Laura had been tall girls—probably strong from farm and garden work. The evidence suggested they all fought for their lives. The man would have had to be large enough to subdue the girls. My mind drifted to giant Charlie Saunders. He had the size to do the job, and he looked the part of a mad killer. He certainly wasn’t a Rhodes Scholar, but he wasn’t stupid, either. Why would he make his way to Bilsby to kill a girl he supposedly didn’t even know? It didn’t make any sense. But I wasn’t ready to cross him off the list just yet. And then there were the two Amish boys to consider. Monroe Swarey

frequented the location of Makayla’s murder, and he was a rebellious youth. What better way to fight against a strict religious society than to commit the most heinous of crimes? I was anticipating the meeting with Abner Troyer, Makayla’s boyfriend, too. Boyfriends, husbands and exes were top suspects in murder cases, but whether he had any connections to the other two girls was still unknown. I forced myself to remember the gruesome crime scenes in Blood Rock. It was difficult to believe either boy could commit such atrocities, but people had surprised me in the past. What did these three young women have in common, other than being Amish? Paper roses and books. When the small hand touched my back, I jumped and whirled around. It was too warm to wear a jacket, concealing my 9 mm Glock, so it was strapped to my calf beneath my jeans. My reaction was so quick, I was reaching for it when Marlen stepped back, wide eyed and open mouthed. “I didn’t mean to scare ya,” he offered. I shook it off and smiled, my heart still racing. “I’m on edge these days. A rabbit could set me off—no worries.” Marlen pulled the book from its secure position at the waistband of his pants. “I have to go help Ma.” He waved at Merle. “Come on.” When the boys were gone, I looked down at the pocket-sized book in my hands. A bare-chested, long haired Native American embraced a blonde woman, who showed a lot of cleavage from her tightly wrapped blue gown. Another erotic romance—just like the book found in Makayla’s pocket. Bobby didn’t think a book had anything to do with her murder, but what were the chances that Laura Grabill was reading a similar and probably forbidden book? And then, from what Elayne had said, even Hannah liked her romance novels. Could the reading material just be a weird coincidence? When I flipped through it, I easily found the place where several pages had been ripped out. Taking my cell phone from my pocket, I scrolled through my gallery until I found the picture of the paper rose discovered beside Laura’s body. I zoomed in and swallowed hard. The typeset seemed to match, although I wouldn’t know for sure until forensics got a hold of it. “Serenity?” Daniel called out. “Coming.” I was glad to leave the shadowed stall behind and walk into the sunny summer afternoon. The Grabill family was nowhere to be seen. Daniel tilted his head, looking expectantly at me. I held up the book. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, knowing I wasn’t. “Is it coincidence that three murdered girls from different communities

would all be reading romance novels?” This was the type of situation where Daniel’s former Amish life was helpful. “Three?” “Elayne said that Hannah was an avid romance reader, too,” I replied. He slowly shook his head. “It’s not that some Amish girls wouldn’t risk reading such books. It’s more that they wouldn’t easily have access to them.” I shook the book. “You can buy books like this at any retail grocery store.” “True, but girls typically shop with their mothers or other female relatives. It would be difficult to hide one.” “How much trouble would a girl get into if she was discovered with this?” Daniel rubbed the black stubble on his chin, looking thoughtful. “It would be serious. The bishop and ministers would be notified and they’d decide on the punishment with the congregation. A few strong lashings might be in order from the parents.” I thought of Naomi Beiler. My nephew, Will, had told me about the beatings she’d received from her father and mother when she broke the rules. My skin flushed. Both Laura Grabill and Makayla Bowman were old enough to read whatever they wanted to. It was maddening to think that young adults were subjected to book censorship in Amish communities across the country. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence?” Daniel murmured as we walked to the Jeep. I stopped beside the vehicle and opened the book to the lost pages. “I’m willing to bet the paper rose found with Laura’s body was made from pages from this book. The paper roses are no fluke.” I paused, rubbing the side of my head where a headache was beginning to develop. “I haven’t figured out why the book was separated from its pages, and if Laura or the murderer created the paper rose. That part doesn’t come together at all.” “There is one other thing to consider…” Daniel stopped and ran his hand through his hair. When he looked up, his eyes were dark pools of worry. He pointed at the book. “The murders may have been a form of punishment for reading something like that.” Daniel had just voiced the fear that had been building inside of me since little Marlen had handed me the book. Murder was murder, but if these girls had died horribly because they were deemed sinners by a zealot, it would be much worse. I really hoped it wasn’t true.

16 CJ

T

he kitchen was stuffy and I had to wipe away the sweat beads from my forehead. I wasn’t able to do anything about the droplets of moisture between my breasts and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation. “I can help you with that,” I offered for the second time. Nana glanced over her shoulder as she paused from cutting the bread. “My great-granddaughters need to be kept busy, else they’ll find some trouble to torment me with.” She said it with a short laugh, letting me know she was in good spirits. “Have a seat on the front porch, where the breeze is. I’m sure you’re not used to suffering this kind of heat without air conditioning. The kitchen is almost unbearable in the summertime.” I agreed with her and I had the selfish reason of wanting to talk to Joshua before the chaos of dinner with the children. I watched Nora spooning potatoes into a bowl and Sylvia setting the table. The clinking of dinnerware made the small kitchen feel extra cozy. Nana saw me hesitate, and growing impatient with me, she ordered me outside. “I’ll call you when we’re ready. Go on and enjoy the porch swing.” This time, I did as I was told and slipped out the front screen door. I sucked in the cooler air and flapped my top a couple of times to dry my breasts. When Joshua cleared his throat, my face burned. He was rocking on the swing. His hat was resting on the porch railing and his suspenders were off his broad shoulders. Our eyes met and he looked away. I wondered if I’d imagined the flash in his blue eyes. He rose. “You may have the swing.” If we’d been a couple, the swing would have been more than large enough for two. But we weren’t, and I understood his reluctance to sit so close. I didn’t argue, feeling fatigued from my lack of sleep. When I sat and

began swinging back and forth, slowly pumping with my tennis shoes, I was glad he hadn’t moved too far away. But it did bother me that he was looking toward the rolling green-covered hills, instead of me. Warmth crept up my neck again and I followed his gaze, glad for the distraction. Large bushy trees dotted the landscape and white board fencings separated the fields. The freshly painted red barns rose up like small castles below the hillside with my little white cottage just beyond. The tranquil scene was inspiring and I couldn’t help planning out my next portrait in my head. “Nana has taken quite the liking to you. She enjoys your company.” Joshua didn’t turn to me. The heat left my cheeks and I relaxed. A few brown curls fell across my vision from the breeze and I pushed them back behind my ear. “I like her, too. She’s been very kind to me, making me feel welcome.” I couldn’t keep the melancholy from my voice. It was a shame Nana wasn’t the one who decided whether I could stay. He laughed lightly, but continued not to look my way. “She isn’t always so easy to get along with. Nana either likes you or she doesn’t. There’s not a lot of wiggle room with her.” I smiled. I’d kind of sensed that about the old woman already. “I’m glad I’m in the like category then.” Silence fell between us. I could hear the muffled sounds of Nana and the girls talking, and birds calling out as the sun dipped behind the hills. The countryside took on a bland, buttery hue and the air cooled a notch. I loved this time of day. The plants seemed to be sighing with relief that the hot sun had left. I closed my eyes, enjoying the scents of cooking food wafting through the windows and the rhythmic motions of the swing. The peacefulness of the moment was enchanting, and my breathing slowed as my muscles loosened and my eyelids became heavy. Usually, I became anxious if no one was talking. It was only among close friends and family that I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. But here I was, with Joshua, doing just that. I didn’t understand why this Amish man had such a calming effect on me. I was a nervous ninny most of the time, especially with the opposite sex. When Joshua spoke, my eyes popped open at the abrupt sound of his voice. “Nana said you spoke with Aaron.” He’d turned around sometime after I’d closed my eyes. Now he was facing me, his back resting against the railing. “Yes, I did.” He scraped the toe of his boot on the wooden floor in what seemed to be

agitation. “Did he mention your living arrangements?” A little puff of strength filled my lungs and I sat straighter. Joshua was genuinely worried about my likely eviction. His attitude wouldn’t change the outcome, but it was nice to realize he did care about the decision. “He basically told me not to get comfortable.” Joshua sighed heavily. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The word bridge sent a chill tingling through me. He stared at me with a neutral expression I couldn’t read and goosebumps sprang up on my arms. The storm of feelings this man caused in me was tiring. He appeared to be waiting and I took the cue. I licked my lips. “What happened to your baby son?” His lips thinned and pain tightened the lines of his face. He toyed with the end of his beard while I waited for awkward seconds. Before he spoke, he nodded as if he’d made up his mind. “He died in his crib of SIDs. At least that’s what the doctors told us.” “Do you think something else happened to him?” I whispered, glancing at the screen door and listening to make sure Nana, Nora and Sylvia were still occupied in the kitchen. He stared out above my head, seeing something that wasn’t there. I held my breath, unable to move a muscle. He inched closer and opened his mouth when a shout called out from the barn. “Mia’s having her baby!” John waved his arms and ran back into the barn. “Who’s Mia?” I asked, standing up. “She’s one of our draft mares.” Joshua bounded down the stairs. I leaped after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides without breaking into a run. I followed him into the barn and to a large box stall to the left. The tan horse was lying on the ground and John was kneeling beside her head. When we entered the stall, she lifted her head and whinnied. With a loud, long grunt, she dropped it back into the hay. John moved so Joshua could take his place. The man looked at the horse’s eyes and opened her mouth, lifting her lips to check her gums. My heart pounded right up into my throat. I’d never seen anything give birth, let alone a horse. “Run and get my medical kit from the house,” Joshua ordered his son. The boy jumped to his feet and disappeared. I moved closer, stepping over the thickly spread straw to reach Joshua.

“What’s wrong with her?” “She’s not due until the end of the month. It’s her first birthing and she’s afraid of what’s happening.” The mare’s eyes widened and she rolled to the side, bumping into me. The large horse caught me off balance and I stumbled sideways, into Joshua, who caught me and hoisted me into the corner, where I wouldn’t get trampled. The mare got to her feet on wobbly legs. She was close enough that her sweaty fur brushed my shirt and I pressed back into Joshua, terrified at the close proximity of the giant, pained horse. Joshua’s arms encircled my waist and he pulled me against his muscled chest more snugly. His warm breath was at my ear. “You’re all right. Just breathe. I won’t let her step on you.” The horse shook her head and paced to the other side of the stall. Joshua didn’t let go of me until he’d crossed safely to the gate. He deposited me there, but didn’t completely release me. His palms burned holes into my sides and I found it difficult to breathe as I looked up at him. I’d never been held so close without being kissed. “There now, you’re fine, aren’t you?” He spoke with the soothing voice that a father would use to calm a frightened child. I felt stupid and snapped out of my paralysis, pulling out of his arms. I could still feel the heat of where’d they been, though. “I’m okay. I shouldn’t have…just walked in there after you. I don’t know what I was thinking.” My voice shook and I tried to force myself to stop trembling. His tongue slid between his lips and his eyes fastened on mine. My temperature rose several degrees and I wondered if my slight shaking was due to an adrenaline rush or something altogether different. Strings of tension pulsed between us, and for a moment, we didn’t move. Joshua’s eyes traveled over my face and slowly down my body. Warm honey spread from my stomach. I hadn’t had such a rush of hormones since I was sixteen and had my first kiss. That boy’s name was Eddy and he had been as inexperienced as I was. But Joshua and I weren’t clumsy kids, and that knowledge made me weak-kneed. He leaned in and I lifted my chin, blowing out a small sigh. He stopped and I searched his eyes. The bright blue irises had darkened to a cobalt shade of passion. His brows furrowed and he frowned, backing away. As if we hadn’t almost kissed, he went to the mare’s head and spoke to her quietly in his language. He rubbed her neck and led her to the bucket of water in the corner. She gritted her teeth, sucking a few gulps in. “Is she going to be all right?” I forced the words out as my body cooled

and my heart slowed. He didn’t look at me. “I don’t like that the foal is coming so far before the due date, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll have trouble.” The mare’s head snapped to the side and she bit at her side without grabbing her skin. “She seems very upset.” I was totally out of my element and bothered by the fact that I didn’t know how to help her. Joshua glanced over and broke out in a small grin. “Giving birth is painful. Of course, she’s upset.” I avoided his look and stared at my tennis shoe. I was a complete idiot. His voice softened. “I’m sorry. You’ve never had a baby, have you?” My eyes shot up. “Of course not.” “I thought that maybe when you were younger—” I cut him off. “No. I’ve always been extremely responsible about birth control.” His eyes became saucers and I reveled in how shocked he was. He was so different than any man I’d been around before. “You must think I’m a freak or something. If I were Amish, I would already be married and have a bunch of kids.” He continued to rub the mare’s neck and turned away. “A woman should not marry or have children until she’s ready. It can be a bad thing otherwise.” His words were cryptic and I was about to ask him what exactly he meant when John returned with the metal box. I stepped out of the stall and watched through the gate as father and son worked with the horse. A few moments later they had Mia laid out on the floor. Her heaving body would go rigid and her legs would stretch for a moment or two and then relax. This went on for some time and Joshua explained she was having contractions. At some point Nora had joined me and she now pressed her forehead against the gate, leaning heavily against me. I touched her white cap and patted her back. “This is the first time I’ve seen a baby born,” I said. “Really?” Nora looked up. “Not even a dog or cat?” I shook my head, smiling at her gaping mouth. “Well, I’ve seen the dog and the pig have theirs. And I would have seen Miss Kitty, but she’s real sneaky and had ‘em under the porch when I went in for dinner one day.” She motioned me with her finger to bend down and I did. “The horses have their foals at night when I’m asleep. This is my first foaling, too.” She took my hand and squeezed, smiling brightly. “It’s coming, Dat!” John knelt at the mare’s backside, holding the tail that

Joshua had just wrapped. A white object protruded from the mare. I craned my neck to see better and realized it was tiny hooves. Joshua rounded the mare and waited until the mare tensed and groaned with another contraction. He grasped the feet and pulled as the mare strained. Nora gripped my hand tighter when the head popped out right behind the front legs. A white swath down the foal’s nose was visible. I sucked in a great breath and held it. The mare fell back into the straw and whinnied. “Come on, girl. You’re almost there. And it’s a fine-looking foal indeed. Don’t give up now,” Joshua cooed. He wiped the foal’s face clear with a cloth from his kit. It wasn’t moving and I glanced down at Nora. Her smile was gone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d prayed, but it came naturally at that moment. Over and over in my head I asked God to let the foal live. “Here we go again,” Joshua said, bracing against the stall wall as another contraction rocked the exhausted mare. I finally took a breath when the slippery foal’s shoulders cleared the mare and it slid out onto the straw with Joshua’s help. “Go to her head, John—keep her down until the last blood goes through the cord.” Mia struggled and John took hold of her halter, trying to keep her down. He was too small for the great mare, though. I didn’t realize I’d let go of Nora and gone through the gate. The next thing I knew, I had my knees on the mare’s neck, using my one hundred and thirty pounds to keep the nearly one ton horse on the ground. “Be careful. She can fling you off her as easily as tossing a ball,” Joshua warned. He vigorously rubbed the foal with a towel. Nora helped at his side. “Is she alive?” I asked, my eyes locking on Joshua’s when he looked up. “It’s a colt, and he’s breathing—just weak.” He spoke fast and loud, pumped with adrenaline. “You’re doing well, John and CJ. Hold on just a little longer.” Lying across Mia’s neck with cramping legs, I wasn’t going to let ago until Joshua gave me the okay to do so, or the mare launched me out of the stall. Her wet fur was in my mouth and stinging my eyes, and the front of my shirt was stained with hair and sweat. Every muscle in my body screamed with tension, but I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain. “There you go, little man.” Joshua crouched next to the foal, holding him

in a dog-like sitting position. The foal shook its head and sneezed. Nora’s laughter joined her father’s. “Carefully release the mare,” Joshua told us. John let go of her halter and I crawled off her neck, standing with John’s help. The sky past the barn door had turned a dark gray, and crickets and tree frogs were singing. The only other sounds were the trilling nickers passing between the mare and foal. I wiped my brow and skirted around the horses to stand with Joshua and Nora. It took several more minutes, but with a heaving roll, the big mare rose to her feet. With some licking and nudging, she encouraged her foal to join her. I didn’t completely relax until Mia’s foal latched onto her nipple, making sucking sounds. “I’ve kept dinner warm for you all,” Nana said, stepping up to the gate. Sylvia slid between the bars and Joshua picked her up. My stomach growled loudly enough that everyone heard. Eyes widened and laughter erupted. This would be a dinner date I’d never forget. I glanced over the kids’ heads to find Joshua watching me. My stomach did a somersault when he offered me a small smile. It was a promise of things to come.

17 SERENITY

T

he schoolroom was fairly large, with windows around three sides. Thankfully, most of the windows were open, allowing a breeze into the stuffy room. Late afternoon sun poured in, making me feel sleepy. I stifled a yawn and looked around. I was surprised the two dozen metal student desks were similar to public schools around the country. I’d been imagining old-fashioned wooden-type ones before I’d entered the building. The wide chalkboard did look outdated and there was a cluster of simple math problems left from the prior school season. Above the teacher’s desk was a painting of a country-style schoolhouse, with the Bible verse: The student is not above the teacher, but everyone who is fully trained will be like their teacher. Luke 6:40. The quote was a stark reminder of how important faith was to the Amish. Bishop Esch sat on one side of me, and Joseph Bender and Moses Bachman on the other. Joseph and Moses were their usual subdued selves, but the Bishop was unusually quiet. He almost seemed a bit at a loss as to how to proceed. I got it. The brutal slayings of three girls was something most people couldn’t begin to wrap their minds around. Even I was having a hard time. The drone of murmurs beyond the windows drew my gaze. Outside, the entire community had gathered. They were all darkly clad and somber. Few small children were among them, probably left at home with older siblings to care for. I saw the tops of white caps and black hats pressed closely together. Beyond the people were green hills, trees, fences, barns and a lone farmhouse in the distance. Truly, it was too beautiful a place for such monstrous crimes. I forced my gaze from the picturesque scenery, over the line of people in the back row. There were a few elderly gentlemen, two middle-aged women, and two young men waiting to talk to me. Todd stood frowning at the doorway, ushering the crowd into the building in an orderly fashion.

Finally, my eyes landed on Daniel, who sat in the furthest corner. He rubbed his eyes, looking tired. We’d gotten back to Blood Rock early in the morning and hadn’t gotten much sleep. If it hadn’t been for the copious amounts of black coffee, I would have been much worse off myself. The bishop leaned over. “This is Abner Troyer—Makayla’s boyfriend. He’s accompanied by his mother, Gertie, and his grandfather, Sten Troyer, and his younger brother.” A shot of energy roused me and I narrowed my eyes to search along the back wall. I figured the boyfriend was the one holding his face in his hands. The mother patted his back and the brother looked bored. The old man grimaced. Aaron’s snort snapped my head his way. “They are all grieving in their own way. Please be patient with them.” His tone was condescending. The Amish leader fluctuated from treating me like an ignorant child to a respected law officer. I never knew what I’d get from him, but I was glad he was displaying some of his usual spunk. I’d hate to see what would happen to the rest of the people if he lost his nerve. I nodded curtly and scribbled the names on my notepad, flicking my fingers for the family to come forward. Another yawn threatened and I tried to swallow it down. I’d been questioning members of the community for nearly two hours and hadn’t come up with a single bit of useful information. The discovery of another romance novel and a third paper rose in Bilsby was wreaking havoc in my head. There were too many theories to keep track of. But it was all fantasy at this point. I didn’t have much to go on. Abner sat in the seat directly in front of me and when he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot and wet. My first impulse was compassion for the young man who’d lost his beautiful girlfriend, but I hardened my heart. Sympathy sometimes clouded the mind, keeping a person from seeing the truth. “Are you any closer to finding the demon who did this?” The grandfather spit the words out. His bushy white eyebrows were furrowed and his brown eyes sparked. His kind of anger I could relate to. Most of his neighbors controlled their emotions well, making it nearly impossible to read them. The words demon and devil had been used frequently that afternoon. Either was an apt description of the killer, but with the Amish, I got the strong impression they meant it literally. “We’re doing the best we can, sir. Talking to everyone in the community is part of the process.” I met Gertie’s stoic gaze. “Ma’am, do you mind if I ask your son, Abner, a few questions?” She squeezed her son’s shoulder.

Abner sniffed and swallowed. “I’ll do anything to find who did that to Makayla.” He was lanky and had a hooked nose, but despite that he was still an attractive teen. His wide spaced eyes and high cheekbones offset his gangly body. And there was an air of confidence about him that I could see attracting a pretty girl like Makayla. “When was the last time you saw Makayla?” “The evening before she was found…in the shed.” He took a deep breath. “We played volleyball here at the schoolhouse. We talked for a few minutes after the game, and she rode home with her mother.” What a date night, I thought. “Did you consider her your girlfriend?” “Yes, of course. We’d been courting for several months.” He gulped. “We were planning a spring wedding next year.” “The two of you were getting along well, then?” He nodded, but I saw his mother’s lips spread into a thin line at the question. “We loved each other. I can’t believe she’s gone.” He sat straighter. “When will you let us have her body? I haven’t even said goodbye to her yet.” There was nothing ominous or out of the ordinary about Abner Troyer. My gut told me to leave the kid alone and let him grieve. I thought about the state Makayla’s body was in and how it wouldn’t be good for the poor kid to see her in that condition. As Blood Rock’s only mortician, Bobby could only do so much. He couldn’t work miracles on bodies. “I can’t give you an exact day yet, but it will be soon. Because of the manner of her death, we want to get every bit of evidence we can before she’s buried.” Moses grunted and I added, “It’s a terrible thing to exhume a body after burial, because the autopsy and collection of evidence was rushed.” Gertie and Abner nodded, but Grandpa’s angry expression didn’t change. I turned my attention to the other brother. He was better looking than his older brother, but he also had that moody teenage vibe that irritated every adult. He pushed his brown hair out of his face and stared at me. This was one of the rebellious kids—and probably friends with Makayla, a girl who snuck around reading romance novels, and Hannah, a girl whose reckless spirit I was already well-acquainted with. I leveled a hard look at the bishop. “The Troyer family may be excused.” They all stood and I raised my hand, motioning to the brother. “But I have a few questions for this one.” The bishop’s brows rose, but he took the cue, speaking to Grandpa and Gertie in their language. A moment later, the Troyers left with Abner dragging

his feet behind them. Moses and Joseph leaned over the table, and even Bishop Esch seemed more alert. I sat back and braced myself for their reaction. “I’d like you gentleman to step away from the table so I can talk to—” I looked across the table. “Matthew—my name’s Matthew.” I nodded. “To talk to Matthew.” “Now, wait a minute. We agreed that all questioning would be done before the elders.” Moses’s voice rose. “You will not do this on your own.” I ignored his scrunched face that looked so much like my fiancé and turned to the bishop. “Trust me on this one.” The bishop stared at me for a long moment. Moses began to speak, but Aaron silenced him with a stiff wave of his hand. I had the authority to bring anyone from the community in for questioning, and the bishop knew it. I was betting he wouldn’t push me to that extreme. He wanted the killer found as much as anyone. Maybe even more. It was his community being terrorized. He was out of his league on this one. His shoulders slumped a little. “Two minutes—we’ll give you that long to talk to Matthew by yourself.” As soon as they were clear of the table, I leaned across and Matthew followed suit. “Did you hang around with Makayla when your brother wasn’t around?” His eyes widened and he dipped his chin. “Not in a romantic way, if that’s what you’re really asking.” Matthew Troyer was a smart one, making me think about Eli Bender, the stubborn boy I’d arrested on my first investigation in the community. This kid was a lot like him. The same kind of arrogance. I only hoped Matthew had enough sense to not end up like Eli had—dead. I’d pegged Abner as the responsible, trustworthy teen, and Matthew as the rebel. Makayla had chosen Abner as her beau, which made sense. He’d be respected within the community and he might be able to provide for a wife and family better than Matthew. But the younger brother would be a lot more fun to hang out with. “You spent time with Makayla?” He nodded. I leaned in closer. “What about Hannah—were you friends with her as well?” I ignored the shuffling sound coming from the direction of the elders and focused on Matthew, trying to read his bland expression.

“Sure. We hung out sometimes. That was it.” Bingo. Here was a connection—a small one, but at least something to work with. I stared at Matthew and he didn’t look away. “Those girls died horrifying deaths—and they were your friends. Another girl, Laura Grabill from Bilsby, was murdered by the same person. And he won’t stop with these girls. We’re dealing with a monster. His sadistic appetite will only grow.” I paused and let my words settle over the teen. He took a short breath and licked his lips. “What does all that have to do with me?” I really wanted to grab the kid’s shirt and shake him hard. I’d learned from experience that people could have important knowledge and not even know it. I was betting this was one of those times. I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve been around a lot of Amish teens. Some of you walk the line—some don’t. I know Hannah had a wild streak, and I think Makayla did, too.” I tilted my head. “And so do you.” The side of his mouth lifted in a smirk and quickly disappeared. “You’re good.” I ignored the misplaced flattery. “This is important. I have to get into these girls’ personal lives—know what they were doing and who they were doing it with. There has to be a connection between the three of them. I’m hoping you can help me.” Matthew looked down at the tabletop, and then glanced at the elders. I continued to watch him. He was so very close to opening up. I held my breath, waiting. The room darkened with long shadows as the sun disappeared from the windows. Most killers committed their crimes when darkness fell, and nighttime was fast approaching. Matthew rose and was around the table before I had a chance to react. He knelt in front of me and motioned with his finger for me to lean in. “I don’t know anything about the Bilsby girl or how she might know Makayla and Hannah. But Makayla and Hannah had one thing in common that might have gotten them into trouble. You have to promise you won’t say a word to Aaron Esch or the ministers about it” —he swallowed— “or I’ll get into deep trouble.” It would be easy to lie and make the ridiculous promise, and I’d be justified in doing so. We were dealing with a serial killer, and other girls’ lives could be in peril. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hadn’t been perfectly honest with Eli when I’d initially questioned him about Naomi Beiler—and I

regretted it later. “I’ll be as discreet as I can with your leaders, but I can’t make any promises.” I stretched, whispering directly into his ear. “If another girl dies, can you live with the fact that you might have prevented it if you’d only been brave? This is bigger than you getting punished, Matthew.” I pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “This really is a matter of life and death.” Matthew nodded slowly and closed his eyes. “It was weed—they both did it.” “Pot? They were smoking pot?” I lowered my voice even further. He opened his eyes, nodding again. A dozen questions shook me, but I forced myself to breathe. “Where did they get it?” He rocked back and rubbed his face. When his hand dropped, he looked up. “Charlie Saunders. The giant man sold it to them.”

18 SERENITY

M

y eyes bulged as I repeated the information in my mind. Charlie Saunders had sold the two murdered girls marijuana? A few things still didn’t add up, but I now had a connection—and a sordid one at that—between the girls and the hulking man, whose shed Makayla’s body had been found in. I was opening my mouth to ask more questions when the bishop appeared with Matthew’s grandfather and mother in tow. One look from the tall Amish man told me he wasn’t going to give me any more alone time with Matthew. The wide-eyed look the kid shot me made my stomach clench. This wasn’t the right time to discuss with the bishop what I’d just learned because the boy was right. It was an understatement that he was going to get into a lot of trouble when the news came out. I made up my mind and leaned back, looking at Gertie. “I’m done with Matthew for now, but I’ll have some follow-up questions for him later. You’re not planning to leave town for any reason, are you?” She shook her head. “No. We’ll be available if you need to talk more.” The we’ll made me reassess the woman. She was more concerned about her rebellious son’s activities than I’d first thought. I nodded to Gertie and watched her walk out of the building with the sourfaced grandfather and Matthew. The bishop cleared his throat. “Anna, Rebecca and Sarah are next.” I looked up and saw Daniel’s family chatting with him in the corner. The tall woman to his right had the same dark hair and proud nose he had. It was easy to see they were brother and sister. “I’ll be ready for them in a minute. Will you excuse me?” I stepped aside and motioned for Todd to join me. The bishop’s brow rose at my dismissal of him, but for once he let it go and walked away.

“Yeah, boss.” Tired eyes, underlined with dark circles, looked hopefully at me. This investigation was taking a toll on everyone. “Who’s watching Charlie Saunders today?” “Jeremy’s on him.” He moved in closer and lowered his voice. “Did something come up on him?” “Oh, yeah. This isn’t the best place to fill you in. I’m doing one more interview and then I’m out of here. I want you to meet up with Jeremey and take Charlie Saunders into town for formal questioning. We’re not arresting him— yet. But make sure you do this one by the book. I don’t want any loopholes for a damn defense lawyer to work with.” Todd nodded. His look of exhaustion disappeared. He ran a hand over his buzzed hair and rested the other on the grip of his holstered gun. “It might be… easier, if we bring another officer to escort the man in.” He blinked. “He’s a big guy.” For all the tension that had every muscle in my body strung tight, I still smiled a little. “You’re right. Go ahead and bring two more uniforms with you. If Saunders gets belligerent, it’ll take four to handle him.” “No kidding. When can we expect you back at the department?” “If nothing else comes up here, within the hour.” Before he left, I raised my hand. “Talk to Judge Emmitt. Tell him what’s going on and see if he’ll issue an expedited search warrant. It would be nice if you and Jeremy had a look around Saunders’ home before you bring him in.” “Sure thing,” Todd replied. His long strides took him out the door in a few steps. It was difficult to sit down again between the bishop and ministers. My mind was on Saunders. But when I faced Daniel’s family, I pulled myself together and focused. My fiancé had slid a chair up beside his mother. She was a slight woman, with dark gray hair and a serious face. She managed to smile at me and I returned the gesture. My heart fluttered. Anna Bachman was a medicine woman. She hadn’t practiced her skills in years, but when she was called upon to save Hannah’s life after she had been poisoned by Ada Mae Peachy, she’d not only come through, she’d worked a small miracle. I used to laugh about such things—now I was a believer. Anna reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. It was small and warm. I fought the urge to pull back. “The devil is among us. He will strike again,” she said quietly. There had been no elation at Matthew’s revelation about Charlie Saunders. I wasn’t convinced we had our man yet, but I was feeling confident we were getting closer to the killer. Anna’s cryptic words sent a chill through me. I took

her opinion seriously. “Why do you say that?” I breathed. Her eyes darkened to black pools. “It was a dream I had a while ago—but it seems to be relevant now.” I dipped my head, encouraging her to go on. “In my dream, the girls were lined up on green grass in the moonlight. I couldn’t see their faces, but their skin was pale and gray. And their stomachs were opened up. There was no blood—just the organs, reminding me of when we butcher the pigs or cows and they’re bled out first.” She spoke so nonchalantly that I glanced at Daniel. His eyes widened and he shrugged a little when she paused. “How many bodies were there?” I asked. “Four. Four girls were lying dead before my eyes.” “You didn’t recognize any of them?” “No. Three wore Amish dresses, but their caps were missing. The fourth girl was furthest away. My memory of her is hazier, clouded. I can’t say for certain if she was Amish or English.” The shadows streaked further across the floor and the breeze from the windows cooled. The room was silent, the elders sat like statues, and even the birds outside had stopped chirping. I caught the eye of Daniel’s niece. She was sixteen and a pretty girl, but instead of the penetrating black eyes of her mother, grandmother and uncle, hers were green. Those eyes looked back at me with glistening fear. It would be difficult to hear such talk from a stranger, let alone your own grandma. The knot in my stomach made me queasy. I could only guess how she felt. I turned back to Anna. “Go on,” I coaxed. She chewed on her bottom lip and hesitated. “Is there anything else you can remember?” “This is nonsense! Shouldn’t we be looking for real evidence instead of retelling a nightmare?” Moses blurted. Bishop Esch slammed his fist on the table, making Sarah and Joseph jump. “Let your wife speak, Mo.” His gravel voice deepened. “She has talents—and you know it.” Moses snorted, leaning back with his arms crossed. Rebecca and Daniel looked worried, and Sarah was trembling. I ignored them all, staring at Anna. “What else do you want to tell me?” “There was only one other thing that stayed with me after I woke. It was roses.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Roses?”

“Each girl had a white rose resting on her chest.”

19 CJ

F

rogs chirped in the pond across the driveway and occasionally a cow mooed. The sun had set, but it was still too warm for a hoodie. It was one of those perfect summer evenings, where except for the darkness, it felt like it was the middle of the afternoon. When Joshua had pulled his buggy to a stop in front of the cottage earlier, he’d said he was going to the schoolhouse to talk to the sheriff, along with almost everyone else in the community. He’d been abrupt, almost unfriendly when he’d called out from the small window. He hadn’t even given me a chance to reply before he snapped the reins and sped away. Now he was back, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about his sudden appearance on my porch. My gaze fell on the painting I’d worked on that afternoon. Part of my inspiration was the picturesque farm setting, the other was just trying to stay busy so I wouldn’t pine for the Amish man. I’d captured the view from the Miller’s farmhouse on the hill—two white porch posts framed the green hills, dotted with trees. There were red barns, and inside the white fenced paddock were a cream colored mare and foal. I’d rushed the piece in a fit of angst and it was still drying, looking less grand than I’d hoped. “Did you speak to Serenity?” I asked. Joshua braced his hands on the porch railing. “She hurried off somewhere before it was my turn. But I’m heading back to the schoolhouse tonight. The elders are meeting with the men of the community.” “Oh, you’re leaving again?” I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice. He turned around, crossed the porch and stopped in front of the painting. He didn’t look at me as he passed by. “We’re going to organize sentries to be stationed around the community,” he mumbled in a distracted way as he studied the rendering of his farm on

canvas. I swallowed the knot in my throat, feeling my cheeks warm. “I didn’t realize your people are so” —I paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t offend him— “proactive.” He finally met my gaze for an instant when he looked over his shoulder. His brow was raised. “Serenity had said something…about the Amish being…pacifists.” The words fumbled out of my mouth. “That doesn’t mean we don’t protect our own.” He sighed heavily. “Everyone is afraid. The ballgames have been cancelled—the women rescheduled their quilting get together for next month. Even a wedding has been postponed.” With his back to me, I watched his broad shoulders sag, and knew he was smoothing down his beard with his hand. “We must have resolution to these crimes. If another girl is murdered, I fear for our community.” “The community? Aren’t you more concerned for those poor girls and their families?” I regretted my harsh tone after I’d spoken. “Of course. But there’s always a bigger picture to consider.” He turned around and his gaze drilled into me. “Our entire way of life depends on our faith in our Lord savior. Something like this tests even the best of us.” He averted his eyes again. “I’m familiar with the trials of being tested.” I stepped forward and touched his arm. He flinched, but didn’t move away. “I know you’re hurting. You can talk to me about it. Maybe I can help you.” I took another step. His arm was like steel in my hand as he stood motionless. “I can’t…” His body came alive and he pulled away, taking the porch steps two at a time. “Why not? Everyone needs someone to talk to.” He whirled around and pointed. “You cannot be that person to me.” He shook his head roughly. “Whatever feelings that might be stirring between us must be ignored.” His blue eyes looked like a stormy sea as they locked onto mine. “We must not act on these impulses,” he growled out. “It’s against everything I hold dear, and it would ruin my family, my children’s home.” Tears welled in my eyes. I tried desperately to hold it all in—to keep from making a complete fool of myself, but I shook with emotion. What was I thinking? Joshua was right. It could never work out between us. He would never leave his culture, and I certainly wasn’t going Amish. I wiped my eyes and sucked in a wet breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. “You’re a nice man and I appreciate you renting the house to me and all, but that’s as far as it goes. I’ll probably be sent packing soon enough, so I might as well get the boxes out.” Joshua’s chest rose and fell with his own agitated breathing. He stared at

me with his mouth slightly open. Somehow, I’d managed to speak calmly, and, I hoped, dispassionately. Silence fell between us and my heart sank into my stomach. What was I thinking? He nodded, took a few steps and turned around. “It’s good.” My head filled with a haze of confusion. “What are you talking about?” “The painting of the farm—it’s really good.” With that, he left me standing alone. How I hated the thought of going back into the little cottage and spending the rest of the evening by myself. I couldn’t go visit Nana—not after what Joshua had said. My involvement in their lives would only confuse the children and pour salt in my wounds. He’d informed me that Nana had been an excellent sportswoman in her younger days and the hunting rifle was propped up beside the doorway in the house on the hill, just in case. He’d also ordered me to lock my own doors. I’d just been dumped by a man who I’d never even gone out on a date with. I was about as pathetic as they came. First Ryan’s infidelity, and now this. What I really needed was a drink and shoulder to cry on. Serenity was certainly too busy with the investigation to babysit me, and I didn’t know anyone else in Blood Rock. Or did I? I rubbed my face, trying not to feel sorry for myself. I was an idiot—yes— but it was nothing a couple of Long Island iced teas wouldn’t cure. I pulled the cell phone from my pocket and checked for internet reception. Thankfully, I had one bar. I entered the name into the map search and waited. Only a twenty-five-minute drive to Charlie’s Pub. Feeling brave, I ran back into the house and grabbed my car keys and purse. If I hurried, I might even make it there before the Amish taxi drivers left.

20 SERENITY

I

shifted my gaze from Todd to Charlie Saunders, who sat across from me in the little wooden paneled interrogation room we had in the Blood Rock Sheriff’s Department. The big man dwarfed the chair, and in this close proximity, I wrinkled my nose at the rank smell of his sweaty body. The fact that he was sweating profusely made him grow as a suspect. Innocent people didn’t melt when asked a few questions. He certainly was the right size to overtake a young woman, and his crass personality and frightening appearance didn’t help his defense, either. He was selling pot to Amish kids, but was he capable of stone-cold killing? I was beginning to think so. I licked my lips and stared back at Saunders. With nearly black eyes and a sneer on his mouth, Charlie Saunders was a scary looking man. “Let’s try this again. Did you provide marijuana to Makayla Bowman and Hannah Kuhns?” I worked to keep my voice level and friendly. “I done told you. I never met the Kuhns girl and I only saw the redhead on a few occasions around the community. If they were smoking weed, they didn’t get it from me.” He snarled and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. I took a deep breath. The giant was lying. If he’d lie about selling narcotics, he’d lie about anything. “Mr. Saunders, you’re not dumb—and neither am I.” I pulled the report Jeremy had written out of the folder. “One of my deputies found eight marijuana plants in a room at the back of your house. He discovered twenty plastic baggies filled with the dried stuff in a drawer.” Saunders hooted. “Miniscule amounts, stored for my own consumption. See, I’m suffering from an old knee injury. I used to run marathons.” He shrugged and his smirk deepened. “Just can’t do it anymore.” He gripped his sides and shook the excess flab. “I put on a few pounds since I quit.” “Right.” I drawled the word out sarcastically. “You look like the running

type.” “You’d be surprised how I look when I’m shaved and primped.” He chuckled and I held his gaze. Ted Bundy had been a law student and a popular figure in the Washington State Republican party. He was also a decent looking man. Certainly not the type most would peg as a rapist, serial killer and necrophiliac who murdered more than thirty girls and young women in the ‘70s. His charisma drew the confidence of his victims, and his style of killing was brutal. Some he beheaded, others he bludgeoned, and he even sexually violated corpses. The man was described as the very definition of evil. And yet people trusted him—falling victim to his monstrous cravings again and again. In a way, Charlie Saunders was relatable to Bundy. He was witty—even a bit charismatic. But his look was all wrong. Most girls would avoid a beast like the man with the twisted grin in front of me—unless they needed something from him, like a joint. I opened the file folder just enough to peek at the pictures of the three dead girls’ corpses. My heart thumped and my head cleared to biting sharpness. I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing and opened them again. The clarity that settled over me was almost soothing. I leaned forward, resting my arms on the tabletop. The fluorescent lights above were too bright and my body was achy with tiredness, but my mind was oh-so-awake. “I don’t give a damn about the pot—I want the girls’ killer. I’m sure the DA will let the drug charges go if you cooperate and help me find who did this.” Saunders stared at me with a straight face for a moment, then his lips lifted and the gurgle of a laugh escaped. “You’re right about one thing—I’m no fool.” He looked away. “I have nothing else to say.” I focused on the light switch across the room as the ache thrummed in my head. This man might be the killer or he might not. But one thing I was convinced of—he had information buried in that enormous head of his that would help me solve the cases. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to make it easy. Sometimes, in order to do greater good, lines had to be crossed. This was one of those times. I smiled sweetly at the giant when he gazed back at me, and his eyes narrowed. “Three young women are dead, and I have a witness connecting you to each of the crimes,” I lied. “It doesn’t really matter what you have to say, you’re either going to spend the rest of your miserable life behind bars—or you’re getting the injection. Sure, it might take a while, but it will happen eventually. The only thing you might have going for you is if you didn’t kill

those girls, and you know something that might assist me in finding the killer, so speak up and save yourself.” I leaned over the table. “Mark my words, there’s no one in this town who’ll save you. It’s up to you.” Saunders’ cheeks reddened and he cupped his mouth. His eyes narrowed even more. “You got nothing on me.” “Are you willing to gamble with your life on that presumption?” I said, broadening my smug smile. With the shocking quickness of a cat, Saunders lunged across the table, grabbing for my throat. I jumped backward, pulling my gun and aiming at the giant’s face. Todd leaped on the man, attempting to put him in a choke hold, but Saunders swiped him away like an annoying fly. As Todd got to his feet, he pointed his gun at Saunders’ head. “You want to die this way? It’s fine with me. My only regret is that you won’t suffer more for what you did to those Amish girls.” Saunders stood, his breaths heaving. He didn’t acknowledge Todd—his frowning gaze was only for me. “You can shoot me—but it won’t stop the killings.” He barked out a laugh, and I believed him. My insides grew ice cold. The only thing that mattered at that moment was protecting the Amish community and bringing the murderer to justice. “Perhaps you’re right, but no one will miss you. I’m all right with the outcome, either way.” “You bitch,” Saunders growled out. In a flash, Todd replaced his gun and pulled out his baton. With a swooping motion, like a golfer making a swing, my first deputy struck the back of Saunders’ legs. The giant yelped and buckled forward. Once his knees hit the floor, Todd had the baton crushing into his windpipe. The aim of my gun never left Saunders’ face. “You had your chance and you blew it,” I told the man as he gasped for breath. “Now you have attempted assault on a law officer to add to your rap sheet.” With the lack of oxygen, Saunders’ face paled and he stopped fighting. Todd released him, and in a fluid movement, got the cuffs on him. While Saunders still gasped for breath, Todd jerked him up into a standing position. We could have called in reinforcements, but then there would have been witnesses to the interrogation. I trusted Todd, but not everyone else. Besides, it was better to keep some things quiet, and we had no time for distractions on these cases—girls were dying.

I finally lowered my gun, making eye contact with Todd. “Throw him in a cell.” “Right, boss.” Todd pushed the man forward, but stopped when Saunders spoke. “Wait.” He shook his head and swallowed a gulp. “Talk to Monroe Swarey —he’s the one I’ve been selling to. He distributes it among the Amish teens.” Saunders met my eyes, unblinking. “Everyone thinks those kids are perfect—but they’re not. Maybe the girls had it coming to them—but it wasn’t me who did ‘em in. Not me.” It took three officers, plus Todd, to haul Saunders to his cell. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket as I watched the group proceed down the hallway. It was about time I interviewed Monroe Swarey—and I didn’t want to do it without Daniel by my side.

21 CJ

C

harlie’s Pub was a nice surprise. The mixture of wooden walls and green curtains gave the place an English pub feel, and it was crowded, too. I had to squeeze between people to reach the bar stools. Once I was seated, I looked around. Most of the patrons were country types—blue jeans, t-shirts and brown boots—but I spotted one person sitting in the corner who looked anything but country. I averted my eyes, but not fast enough. She’d seen me and waved me over. Not wanting to be rude, I climbed off the stool and made my way over. Elayne stood when I reached her, ushering me into the booth. “It’s good to see you, CJ. How are you settling into your new place?” The gorgeous brunette was just as perky as the last time I’d seen her. She pushed her long, smooth locks behind her ears and smiled. The smile was tight and forced, though. The heavy feeling of awkwardness pressed into me. Serenity hadn’t said much about Elayne, except that the assistant DA used to be Amish and was an interesting woman. She wore a tailored black suit jacket, with a ruffled green silken blouse beneath. Her matching skirt was shorter than what I’d be comfortable in and the four-inch heels wouldn’t have been my choice, either. Looking at her now, I could hardly imagine her growing up Amish. Interesting was an understatement to describe this woman. “I’m afraid I won’t be there much longer.” My heart thumped at my words. “I’ve decided to move back to Indianapolis. I think it was a mistake for me to come here.” A blonde woman stopped by our table and I ordered a draft beer. Elayne insisted on putting it on her tab, and I was too tired to argue about it. When the foamy, cold mug was placed in front of me, I took a small sip and returned my attention to Elayne. She studied me with the seriousness of a hungry lion and once again I found myself flinching.

“Bishop Esch got to you, didn’t he?” she finally said. I offered a smile and shrugged. “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway—the country isn’t exactly what I thought it would be.” Elayne took a swig of her mixed drink, setting the glass forcefully on the table. “Damn right it isn’t.” She giggled at my wide eyes and it was then I noticed another empty glass pushed to the side. Elayne had been sitting here—and drinking—for a while. When she stopped laughing, she held up her glass and compelled me to do the same. “To misconceptions.” She bumped her glass into mine and took another drink. I tentatively sipped from the mug, glancing around at the raucous group of young people at the table next to ours. The mixed group of guys and girls were enjoying their Friday night. They were young and free. How I envied them. “Nothing personal, but I see why Aaron wants you gone.” I sat straighter. “I beg your pardon?” “You’re a beautiful woman.” She eyed me. “Curly hair, large hazel eyes, slender—but curvy in the right places. You’d be giving Joshua Miller a hard on every time he saw you. And that wouldn’t be a good thing for the Amish widower, would it?” I let out a breath and leaned back. Elayne had had too much to drink. Serenity had briefly explained to me that one of the murdered girls had been the lawyer’s friend—that she’d even taken the girl in to help her transition to the outside world. She was trying to ease her grief with booze. I couldn’t blame her —I’d done the same thing before—like when my mom had died of breast cancer when I was in college, or when Ryan cheated on me. From what I knew of Elayne, I was willing to bet she wasn’t usually so crass. It was the booze talking, eliminating her polite filter all together. Her frankness could be useful. I decided to take advantage of it. “Joshua doesn’t seem like the type to be attracted to an outsider. He’s pretty strict about his beliefs.” “That’s what you think. He has his fantasies, just like every other man.” She took another sip and frowned. “If you were allowed to stay—the two of you would hook up.” “How do you know that?” I leaned across the table and stared at Elayne. One of her brows rose and she smirked. “Oh, come on. He’s a fine-looking man—don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. I wouldn’t believe you if you did.” I’d wanted to call Serenity all day, but had left her alone. She had more important things on her mind than me pining for a man I had no business being interested in. The opportunity to talk to someone, especially someone who might

understand what I was going through, was tempting. I swallowed another sip of beer and sighed. “My ex cheated on me with a college girl. He wasn’t interested in my intelligence, my sense of humor or our history together. All he wanted was a young hottie in his bed. After dealing with all that, a family guy like Joshua Miller is appealing, and his good looks don’t hurt.” Elayne scrunched her pretty face and pushed her glass away. “I’m sorry. I had no business being so rude about it.” She dabbed her eye with a finger and sniffed. “It’s been a rough week.” All my troubles vanished. “Serenity filled me in. Are you okay?” She nodded. “I wasn’t entirely surprised. I used to babysit Hannah when she was a little girl. She’s always been reckless, and drama followed her everywhere. The kid was her own worst enemy.” She tapped her long, pink nails on the table and stared at them. “Her mother, Irene, was always kind to me. Even after I left the Amish, she was the only woman in the community who kept in touch with me. She showed more compassion than my mother and sisters.” She looked up and her brown eyes were moist. “I tried to help her with Hannah, but I let her down.” Now I placed my hand over hers. “You tried. That’s all anyone can do.” I caught her sad gaze. “Like you said, the girl had issues. A person has to want to be saved in order to be saved.” Elayne smiled sadly. “In my mind, I know you’re right. It’s just going to take a little longer for my heart to catch up.” Her eyes brightened and I followed her gaze to the front door. A tall man in dress pants and a button up shirt lifted his hand to Elayne. “That’s a lawyer I’m working on a case with. We’re going out for coffee.” She hesitated. “Do you want to join us?” Elayne’s sudden transformation from sad to bubbly was jarring. I shook my head. “No, thanks.” I looked around the pub and spotted who I was searching for. “I came to meet up with some friends. I’m good.” Elayne grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth. She paused beside me and leaned down. Her face was serious again. “You seem like a practical woman —someone who isn’t easily fooled by a good-looking man.” She chewed the corner of her lip. “Something isn’t quite right about Miranda Miller’s death. There’s more to that story than what’s been told. Be careful.” She whirled around and was squeezing through the crowd before I could reply. My head throbbed and I pressed my fingers into my temple. There’s way too much drama in this town. I set my mug down. It was probably best if I headed home and began packing.

But just as I shifted my weight to follow Elayne’s lead, Chloe, the Amish driver, saw me. She waved and grabbed Caleb, pulling him off his stool. I wanted to flee, but I was trapped as they made their way over. It was difficult to flick the switch to gregarious after spending a couple of weeks isolated in the country. I forced the smile on my face as I silently berated myself for going out to the pub in the first place. “You made it!” Chloe slid into the booth beside me, and I moved over to give her room. Caleb took the place Elayne had vacated. He tipped his head toward Chloe and rolled his eyes without her seeing. My smile broadened and I hid it behind my hand. “I needed a change of scenery. But I’m not staying long.” I took another sip of my beer. “Honey, the night is young. What’s the hurry?” Chloe leaned in closer, and I got a strong whiff of cigarette smoke. She was wearing a white tank top that showed off a large butterfly tattoo on her chest and more tats of creeping vines winding around her shoulders. This close, I could see gray hairs peppering the dark roots of her platinum blonde hair. “I’m packing up and heading back to Indy.” The words sounded strange when I said them. Chloe shot me an aww, shucks kind of look and Caleb nodded. “The Amish world isn’t for everyone. I kind of figured it wouldn’t work out for you,” Caleb said in a friendly way, but it still stung. “It was an adventure while it lasted.” I took another sip and realized the mug was almost empty. Caleb motioned for a server to come over and purchased the three mugs of ale on her tray. He held up his hand when I protested. “It’s on me.” He lifted his mug and Chloe followed suit. I raised mine with less enthusiasm. He said, “To trying to fit into a world filled with caps, beards and buggies.” I grinned and bumped glasses with my new friends. A bit of foam sloshed over Chloe’s mug onto her hand and she licked it off, making me laugh. These were just the type of people to hang out with if you wanted to forget your troubles. We all turned to the music coming from the small stage at the far side of the room. Four ragged, forty-somethings were belting out one of my favorite ’80s songs, and the crowd shifted to the band, blocking my view. I tapped my foot and swallowed another sip of the beer. Maybe I should stick around for a while… The young man walking toward our booth caught my eye. His dark, longish hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it back with his hand. He was

average height for a guy and wore a retro-looking t-shirt. A cigarette dangled from his lips. My heart raced. He might be in regular street clothes, but I was sure he was the Amish boy I’d seen standing on the podium in the barn the night of the meeting. When he reached our table, he glanced my way. His eyes flashed with recognition, and then he dismissed me, focusing on Chloe. He bent to her ear and whispered. She laughed and smiled back at me. “I’ll be back—I have something I need to do.” She placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder and left quickly with him, disappearing into the crowd. I half stood in the booth, watching them saunter out the establishment’s door. “He’s a little young for her, huh?” I glanced at Caleb. For a moment, I’d forgotten he was even there. “Do they have something going on?” I couldn’t keep my eyes from bulging as I dropped back into the seat, crossing my arms over the table. Caleb’s straight face trembled, and then he barked out a laugh. “You are too gullible!” My face heated and I slouched back into the seat. “Why else is she hanging around with an Amish kid?” He glanced around and leaned in. “Monroe’s not a kid—he’s nearly eighteen. And he’s more likely to corrupt her than the other way around.” I moved forward again. “Really—how so?” Caleb was in his early twenties, probably ten years younger than me. His boyish, intelligent face was clean shaven, but his thick hair was unruly. His highbrowed expression made me feel like I was the younger of the two of us. The twinkle in his eyes made me blush. “So how straight-laced are you, Miss Prim and Proper?” “Me?” I giggled, rolling my eyes. “I’m far from proper,” I snorted. Caleb’s mouth thinned into a smug line. “So, if I told you Monroe was dealing drugs—mostly marijuana, but evolving into other stuff—you wouldn’t be surprised?” My eyes darted back to the doorway just as Monroe and Chloe re-emerged. “Seriously?” Caleb nodded, continuing to smile at me. “Yeah, I’m surprised. I didn’t think that kind of thing went on in the Amish community.” Caleb grunted and took a sip of his beer. “You’d be surprised what goes on. Those kids aren’t angels.”

I lowered my voice. “Did you know the girls who were murdered?” He let out a breath. “I knew them a little bit. Sometimes I drove their families into town, but not very often. Dick and Martha work the east side of the settlement for the most part.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe what happened, you know? I read mostly fantasy and sci-fi, but occasionally I pick up a horror story.” His face paled and he sighed again. “It’s like a B-rated slasher movie—I can hardly believe it happened here, and twice.” “Do you think it’s a serial killer?” I asked. “I read somewhere that at least three people have to be killed within a short period of time to be considered a serial murderer.” The music blared, but Caleb kept his voice low, and I tilted my head and moved closer to him to hear him say, “I just heard a little while ago, another girl was killed in Bilsby a month ago, and that crime might be connected to these.” I cupped my mouth. My romantic problems were nothing compared to what was going on around here. A psycho was on the loose, preying on Amish girls. “I can accompany you home if you’re scared,” Caleb offered. His wicked grin made me blush again. I sat back and shook my head, trying desperately to keep the smile from my face. The barely-out-of-college guy was hitting on me. “I think I’ll be all right.” I thought about the gun Serenity had given me earlier and decided to keep the information to myself. Caleb continued to grin. “I’m pretty handy—I can fix your car, clean your bathtub, make you dinner—whatever you need.” Thankfully, Chloe arrived, saving me from Caleb’s growing boldness. I caught a whiff of pot and grimaced. The last time I’d smelled the stuff was in college. “What have the two of you been up to?” she asked brightly. “Actually, I’d like to hear the same from you.” I looked up to see Serenity looming over the table in full sheriff regalia. Her fiancé was directly behind her and another uniformed officer stood at the doorway. My fun night on the town had just taken a turn for the worst. I knew from experience that if Serenity was here, the party was over.

22 SERENITY

I

watched CJ leave the pub, and a rush of anxiety hit me. Perhaps she shouldn’t be driving herself home. “Don’t worry about Curly. She only had a couple of beers.” My gaze narrowed on the young man sitting across the table. Caleb Johnson was good-looking and clean cut, except for the bushy head of hair. He wore an amused smirk that made me think he was either too confident or lacking a few brain cells. Since he was perceptive enough to interpret my concern over my friend, I doubted it was the latter. This situation would have unnerved most people, but not the Amish driver. “Curly?” He shrugged, his smile spreading. “It’s just a nickname we gave CJ, for obvious reasons.” “Who’s we?” I kept my voice light and glanced over at Todd, who had Monroe sitting on a bar stool, waiting his turn to talk to me. Chloe, who I knew from a domestic squabble I’d broken up earlier that year, was already in the cruiser, ready to spend the night in county lockup. She was drunk and high, and it wasn’t much use to try to interview her tonight. “The other drivers—Martha, Dick, Chloe and me.” He leaned across the table, crossing his arms. “We’re kind of like a club or something.” He lost the smile. “We can relate to each other, you know?” I understood what he meant. Being around the Amish people wasn’t easy. I knew that firsthand. “Did you know Makayla or Hannah—or drive for their families?” I opened my notepad. It was going to be another long night. “Not really. I spoke to Makayla a couple of times, but I didn’t know Hannah at all. Martha and Dick usually drove both families,” he replied with a shrug.

“What about Monroe Swarey, do you know him personally?” “Yeah, I drive his mom into town to do her shopping. Sometimes he comes along. He’s a good kid, for the most part.” “Can you elaborate on for the most part?” “It’s hard being a teenager nowadays, but can you imagine how difficult it is for an Amish one? Monroe works at the welding shop with his father during the day, and does farm work in the evenings. He doesn’t have a lot of free time.” Caleb shrugged and met my stare. “He’s probably resentful about that and acting out by selling weed to the other resentful teens.” He sat straighter, tilting his head. “But the kid’s not violent. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Caleb was even more perceptive than I’d given him credit for. He realized I was suspicious of Monroe because of his nefarious activities, and Caleb was coming to his defense. I studied the driver’s hazel eyes, looking for a lie. He leaned in closer. “You’re trying to gauge whether I’m lying.” He smiled again and I thought I saw his cheeks reddening before he turned away. “I watch all those crime dramas on TV. I might even go into law enforcement someday. I’m going to take a couple of classes at the community college this fall, looking at a criminal science degree.” “You’ll have to cut your hair,” I said, completely reevaluating the young man sitting across the table from me. He was smart, athletic looking, and he had that extra bravado that cops needed to survive. It was hard to encourage anyone to go into the field, though. The job was a sacrifice in many ways, and too many of us died early in the line of duty. But we also needed more good people. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way into a uniform.” I pulled a business card from my pocket. “I’d be happy to help you out. If you’re serious about a career in criminal justice, just give me call.” Caleb was wide eyed and smiling when he took the card. “You can also call me if you think of anything else that might be pertinent to the Amish girls’ investigations.” “I sure will.” His face beamed. “Thank you. This” —he tapped the card on the tabletop— “is just the encouragement I needed to get focused on my career path.” I smiled back. But before he slid from the booth, I asked him another question. “Do you know Charlie Saunders?” The brightness left Caleb’s face. “Only from a distance. But I think everyone in this town knows of him. He’s a seriously scary-looking dude.” I chuckled. The kid took the words right out of my mouth. But was Charlie Saunders a coldblooded killer? I needed a few more pieces of the puzzle to make the call.

Monroe Swarey averted his gaze. His pants were the same homemade versions that all Amish men wore, but instead of a button up shirt and suspenders, he wore a Metallica t-shirt. Where he’d gotten the concert shirt was anyone’s guess, but his Amish clothes were in the leather backpack on the table between us, along with about a pound of marijuana separated into small amounts in baggies. His thick hair was greasy and his skin paler than most of the other Amish teens I’d met. But the fact that he worked in a welding shop by day and did his farm chores at night probably contributed to his pasty complexion. “Hey, look at me,” I said firmly. Monroe met my gaze sullenly. “This is serious business. You have enough illegal substance in your pack to charge you with possession with the intent to distribute. You might spend some time behind bars. And since you turn eighteen next month, I don’t think a judge will go lightly on you, either.” I was putting it on thick, but it was working. His eyes widened, and it was enough to tell me that what I was saying was sinking in, so I surged forward. “I also have a witness that says you were getting the weed from Charlie Saunders, and that you in turn sold it to Amish kids, including Makayla Bowman and Hannah Kuhns, who are now dead. There’s also physical proof that you frequented the same shed that Makayla’s body was discovered in.” I lowered my voice even more. “That’s enough suspicion to pin those brutal crimes on you. And if that happens, you might spend the rest of your life in prison or worse yet, in this state, you’ll get the lethal injection.” His Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed, but his eyes remained distant. “I sold them some pot—and I’d occasionally have a smoke in Charlie’s shed. That don’t make me a killer.” Monroe’s stubborn nature was beginning to frustrate me. I glanced at Todd. He had his fists clenched and I knew the kid was having the same effect on him. I decided to take a different approach with the sulky teenager. “They were your friends, weren’t they?” When he nodded, I said, “And someone murdered them, and in the most horrific ways possible. If you didn’t do it, then who do you think did?” He shook his head. “How should I know? I—” He was about to say more, but stopped. His already white skin, turned even lighter, and he slid further down into the booth. I turned to see what had startled him. Standing beside Todd was Monroe’s father, Nicolas Swarey. He had the same face as his son, only an older version.

Whereas Monroe looked frightened, his father’s brows were drawn up in anger. “Those girls were into all kinds of sinful mischief. Any one of their evil connections could have done those things to them, but not my son. He’s innocent. His only wrongdoing has been his lust for social interaction and companionship.” He leveled his gaze on Monroe. “I told you to stay away from those evil girls.” His words pounded in my head and it took everything I had to stop my fist from slamming into his bearded face. Todd gripped the man’s arm and pulled him sideways, out of my arm’s length. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the Amish man, my hand resting on my holstered gun and my mind going back to my notepad where I’d scribbled religious zealot on the page of possible suspect theories. “How could you say something like that about a couple of girls from your own community—girls who were slaughtered?” I said, searching the man’s eyes for some indication of guilt. Nicolas Swarey swayed back from the hardness of my words, but he still eyed me with a look of disgust. “Our community is like a trash bin full of sinful children.” He raised his chin defiantly. I gestured at Monroe. “Like your son, here?” He let out a rough breath. “He has sinned, that’s the truth of it. But only because he was weak. Our community has suffered drug abuse, teen sexuality, violence, and even murder in these past months. Something evil has settled here, and unless the sickness is weeded out, the madness will continue.” I digested what the man had said, trying to collect my thoughts. I didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing. When Mr. Swarey tried to jerk his arm away from Todd, my deputy held on firmly. Todd snarled, “Stand still. You’re being spoken to by Blood Rock’s sheriff.” I thought back to the community meeting held in Joseph Bender’s darkened barn. Monroe had almost seemed anxious to go into town with me that night. I had assumed it was because he was afraid of the bishop and the Amish mob. But now I reconsidered. Judging from the anxiety on the boy’s face when he looked at his father, I would bet that it had been fear of Mr. Swarey that drove the teenager to seek asylum with me. But then why would he risk doing something that would so blatantly get him into trouble—like selling weed? “Where were you on July sixth, Mr. Swarey? Do you remember?” The man’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Wasn’t that the day the Bowman girl was found dead?”

“She was discovered in Saunders’ shed on the seventh, but she was likely murdered on the night of the sixth.” I stared back at Mr. Swarey, looking for any flinch or eye lift that might indicate what was really going on his mind. He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “It was an ordinary night. I fed the cows and got in late.” My eyes shifted to Monroe. “Is that true?” Monroe pressed his lips together tightly. He nodded briskly. “I’d like to talk to your wife. I know it’s late, but I have some questions for her, too.” I reached for Monroe’s backpack. “She doesn’t live with us anymore.” My hand paused in midair and my breathing slowed. I glanced between the Amish man and Monroe and saw that he was telling the truth. “Where is she?” I willed my heartrate to slow down. “She left a couple of months ago. Our lifestyle didn’t suit her anymore.” Monroe must have seen the confused look on my face. He offered, “Ma used to be English. She met my father when they were both young, and she became Amish and joined our church.” My mind reeled from the news. Had Monroe’s mother left on her own, or had she disappeared because of her husband? “Do you have siblings?” Monroe shook his head. I turned to Mr. Swarey. “It’s just the two of you at home?” “Yes, ma’am,” he responded politely. I wondered at his sudden change of demeanor. “Where is your wife?” “I have no idea. She hasn’t been in contact with us since she left.” Mr. Swarey’s answer was quick and sounded rehearsed. I fastened my gaze on Monroe and he shrugged. “It’s true. I haven’t seen or heard from her.” Mr. Swarey shifted his weight impatiently. “What are your plans for Monroe?” I chewed my bottom lip and turned my stare on him. This time he didn’t look away. “I have probable cause that he’s committed a crime by selling an illegal drug to Chloe Manchester. I’m going to take him into custody tonight and a judge will decide what to do with him tomorrow.” “Is that really necessary?” Mr. Swarey said. “It most definitely is.” I looked around the pub. Charlie was wiping the counter down and only a few patrons remained in the establishment that had been bustling when I arrived. “Who drove you here?” I asked. “My horse and buggy are in the parking lot. I was just leaving the welding

shop when I received Monroe’s call. I came straight here.” I continued to eye the man. He hadn’t even glanced his son’s way during our entire conversation. When he wasn’t staring at me, he was looking at his black shoes. “I assume you’ll be at the shop in the morning?” When he nodded, I said, “I’ll be stopping by, so expect my visit.” “What about my son?” There was a small pleading sound to his words that I ignored. “I’ll give you an update at that time.” The Amish man finally looked at his son. “I’ll see you tomorrow, son.” Monroe swallowed and forced a smile, but said nothing. Mr. Swarey turned around and within a few seconds had disappeared through the front doors. I held my hand up for Monroe to stay in the booth and stepped away from the table. Todd leaned in and whispered, “Why’d you let that S.O.B. go home?” “I want you follow him—how you’re going to manage that with a horse and buggy, I have no idea—but stay on him until morning. Try not to be too obvious.” Todd nodded toward Monroe. “What about him?” “I’m hauling him in, just like I told his dad. I want him talk to someone. We need to get him to open up about what’s really going on with Mr. Swarey.” “So, you got the same bad vibes from guy that I did?” “Oh, yeah. He had the opportunity, and it seems a motive, to commit the crimes. The fact that his wife is missing doesn’t bode well for him, either.” Todd drew in a deep breath. “Maybe we got our guy and this nightmare is over.” The jolt of hope I felt made me feel lighter than I had in days. But my skeptical mind wouldn’t allow me to relax completely. I feared it just couldn’t be that easy.

23 CJ

I

was relieved when I reached the porch, but my legs weren’t working right and I plopped down on the steps, leaning my head against a spindle of the hand railing. It had been a long while since I’d had a drink, let alone a few beers. It was a miracle I’d made it home in one piece. I closed my eyes and my head spun. After Serenity had shown up, I hadn’t been able to resist having another drink at the bar while I waited for her. I desperately wanted to tell her about what was going on with Joshua, even though I knew she was busy with more important things. I had needed a friend, and was willing to wait the entire night for her if need be. But the minutes kept adding up and before I knew it, Serenity’s deputy was nicely asking me to head home. He’d said something about his boss calling me in the morning. I’d managed a good act, or the officer would probably have offered to drive me home. I thudded my head sideways onto the spindle a couple of times and sighed loudly. I was so very much alone with my problems. “What are you doing?” The voice cracked the silence of the night and my eyes popped open. Joshua Miller stood in front of me with his arms crossed at his chest. He looked as startled as I felt. And he also looked very handsome, with the moonlight partially illuminating his face. His nostrils flared and his blue eyes shone. The suspenders were gone and his usually tucked-in shirt was pulled out. The bulges of his muscled arms made me shiver—and not because I was cold. “Are you spying on me?” I carefully said the words, hoping I didn’t sound drunk. “Your car was gone when I returned home from the meeting with the bishop. I’ve been keeping an eye out for you all evening, and when you finally pulled in but the lights of your house didn’t go on, I became worried.” I licked my lips, running my fingers though my curls. “That was sweet of

you…to worry about me…and all.” I sniffed and wiped the tear away that trickled out of my eye. “What’s wrong—are you hurt?” Jacob’s voice was alarmed and he kneeled on the step below me. I turned my face away, rubbing it hard. I just wanted to go into the house and begin packing and get out of the Amish community as fast as I could. Joshua was a man who’d never want me. He was a forbidden temptation that was driving me crazy. It was an itch that would never be scratched—a story with no beginning or ending. Even his adorable little girls, stoic son and feisty old Nana were breaking my heart. They were the family I’d always wanted, but never found. And now they were all being taken away before I even had an opportunity to get to know them properly. And why? Because Joshua was Amish, and I wasn’t. Joshua’s calloused, strong hand on my chin felt good, but it couldn’t be real. He gently turned my face until I was staring into his blue eyes. They looked so dark in the moonlight. “What’s wrong? Please tell me, CJ.” Joshua’s voice was huskier than it had been, and his lips were parted. His warm breath was on my face and his hand still cupped my chin. I could hardly breathe. My heart raced and tingles spread out from deep inside me. The feeling was exquisite and I swayed closer to Joshua, inhaling his leather and musk scent. “I’m just lonely, that’s all.” My voice sounded far away, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or me really talking. Joshua was dangerously close and the tension between us was so tight I could have thrummed it with my finger. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t move away. Our eyes met and there was confusion and fear in his. Seeing his fear cleared my mind, and the fog of passion faded. I might be a little drunk, but I wasn’t a fool. I pulled out of from his grasp and stood. He followed suit, and because he was standing a couple of steps down from me, we were the same height. It was strange to look directly into the eyes of a tall man. A horse whinnied in the distance and tree frogs chirped nearby. The air was warm and still, and almost magical feeling. “I’m lonely, too,” Joshua whispered. He swallowed, closed his eyes and opened them again. His gaze trailed over my face and I couldn’t breathe or even move. When he leaned in and touched his lips to mine, my mind went blank. His mouth settled against mine as his hands grasped my hips. He sighed into me and

I opened mine further. I pressed into him, surrendering to the storm of passion that had been building inside me from the moment I’d met him. His groan into my mouth made me arch against him, and he swept me off my feet and carried me up the steps. I fumbled with my keys, trying to open the door without breaking the kiss. Joshua became impatient and took the keys from my hand. He managed to balance me on his knee against the doorframe while he got the door open. It slammed behind us, and I opened my eyes when he gently deposited me on the bed. Moonlight spilled in through the one window, shining on Joshua. Now that we were in the bedroom, behind closed doors, his urgency had calmed and he had control again. His eyes never left me as he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off in a smooth action that sent a chill down my spine. His chest was strong and firm, his stomach toned. The skin below his neck was pale, as if he’d never taken his shirt off in the sunshine, reminding me what he really was—an Amish man who didn’t take his shirt off, unless he was showering or making love. The breath caught in my throat when his hands moved to his pants. My heart pounded like a silly school girl’s committing a forbidden act, but I knew deep down that was exactly what we were about to do—something forbidden. I didn’t care, though. The only thing that mattered to me right now was having his skin pressed against mine. When he stepped out of his pants and stood naked before me, I dropped my gaze, losing confidence that this beautiful man would want me. I hadn’t been enough for Ryan. He’d tossed me aside for a prettier, younger woman. The handsome Amish man staring at me with the intensity of a wolf couldn’t really want me. I looked up when I felt the bed creak and shift. Joshua slowly creeped up over me, until his weight pushed me deeper into the bed. I was breathing hard and at a loss for words. I searched his eyes, trying to see right into his soul. He smiled, pushing a few stray curls back from my face. “Do you want me to leave?” I swallowed, and my mind shouted out, “Yes! Go away and never come back. You’re only going to shatter my already broken heart. This can never work. Why bother?” But the only thing that came out of my mouth was a whispered, “No, don’t go.” His heavy look of passion returned, and he buried his face in my neck. He inhaled deeply and trailed small kisses along my neck and jawline, until he found my lips. I sighed into his mouth and he groaned with me. Without breaking off the kiss, he rolled me, and in one fluid movement I found myself

straddling his waist with my legs. When I pulled back and opened my eyes, I stared into his passion-filled ones, and I felt the pounding of his heart against my palms. I hesitated only a few long seconds. I can still stop—there’s still time to go back and undo this nonsense. But I saw something in Joshua’s eyes that stilled my heard. Sadness—a great sadness pressed in his blue-eyed gaze. Something snapped inside of me, and a wave of emotions flooded my body. I tugged my shirt over my head and dropped it next to the bed. Joshua’s fingers unhooked the back of my bra and soon enough, that too, was strewn on the floor. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he brought his mouth to my breast. All my worries melted away, replaced by glorious sensations. This was what being alive felt like. And dammit, I was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

24 SERENITY

I

leaned against the one-way window, spying on the interrogation room. Daniel’s feet were stretched out to the side of the small table. They were crossed, as were his arms. He looked relaxed, almost bored. The boy sitting across from him was the opposite. Monroe’s fingers went from being laced, to fidgeting on the tabletop and back again. The composure the kid had displayed a few hours ago had been diminished by a night in county lockup. I’d purposely placed him in a cell adjacent to a one of our regulars—a notorious drunk, with a foul temper and tongue. The hard-looking man was also prone to threatening violence on other inmates if they so much as looked sideways at him. The cell on the other side of Monroe contained Charlie Saunders. I figured if anything was going to scare the Amish teen into talking, it would be wedged between those vile men. I’d also made sure Officer Jeremy Dickens stayed nearby to hear any conversations Monroe might have with his business associate. But from what Jeremy had told me this morning, the kid hadn’t moved from his facedown position on the cot, not even raising his head to acknowledge the badgering coming from either side of him through the night. Now, looking at Monroe’s nervous demeanor, I knew the experience in lockup had seriously rattled him. He might have been a laidback, cool Amish kid on the outside, but inside he was the same as all the other troubled teens I’d encountered. He was afraid and lonely. And we’d use that against him to get the answers we needed to catch our murderer. “Come on, Monroe. You were sneaking out, meeting those girls in secluded places to sell them the weed. You know what was going on with them —you know who killed them.” Daniel’s words surprised me. He wasn’t usually so blunt or accusing. He was too hopeful in many instances, never wanting to acknowledge the dark side of human nature. His need to protect his people had caused problems between us

in the past, but his attitude was different this time. Maybe it was the fact that three Amish girls were brutally murdered, or he was so afraid the killer would strike again that he was willing to use psychological tactics on Monroe to solve the crime. Either way, I couldn’t help smiling when I glanced at Bobby, who stood beside me listening to the interrogation as thoughtfully as I was. We’d put Daniel in that room because we had both thought he was the only person who might get the truth out of the Amish kid. Marijuana possession wasn’t a big deal compared to the dead girls. It didn’t matter that nothing Monroe said to Daniel could be used in court. We had to stop the killer. Monroe rocked back and forth in his chair. “I don’t know anything—I swear it.” He shook his head. “I hung around with Hannah and Makayla, but I don’t even know this Laura Grabill girl you’re talking about. Daniel came out of his relaxed posture and leaned across the table in a heartbeat. “What about your father, Monroe—why are you so afraid of him?” My eyes widened and I couldn’t tear my gaze from the scene, even when Bobby snorted softly beside me. The reason Daniel was in the interrogation room, and not me, was because he was supposed to be playing the nice cop role. He used to be Amish, and he could be relatable to Monroe, get the kid to open up with familiarity and comfortableness, not fear and intimidation—that was my role. When Monroe’s mouth stayed tightly closed, Daniel’s voice softened and he tilted his head. “I know what it’s like. My father was a difficult man. He was stricter than the bishop, and there was no sympathy inside the man. If did wrong, I was beaten sometimes.” Daniel leaned back. “That’s probably the main reason I left the Amish—it was just too difficult to live up to my father’s standards, even when I tried to be good.” Monroe licked his lips and took a trembling breath. “My dat isn’t just strict. He’s not a nice man. He has a foul temper that’s only grown worse since Ma left.” He slid his hands across the tabletop. “I don’t blame her for leaving. I don’t know how she stayed with him as long as she did.” “Did your father ever physically hurt your mom?” Daniel asked slowly. Monroe nodded. “He was careful not to do anything that would cause bruising to her face, but I’d seen him strike her with a switch on the back of the legs when she didn’t get all the housework done the way he liked it. He kept the switch on the shelf in the pantry. When he got really angry at Ma or me, he’d wave it around and sometimes hit us with it.” In the course of Monroe talking, my face had flushed and my breathing had slowed. Nothing made me angrier than a coward who beat his wife and kids— except, perhaps, a cold-blooded killer who slaughtered Amish girls.

“Did your father know about your little side business?” Daniel asked. Monroe took a long breath and looked away. Just when I was willing Daniel to press the kid further, he said, “He was using the stuff himself, wasn’t he?” Monroe shook his head vigorously. “No, no. It wasn’t Dat.” He raised his pale face, looking a lot younger than he had a moment ago. “It was my mom who had been smoking it. She’d steal it from my hiding place—how she figured out the location, I have no idea. I couldn’t say anything to her. After all, I was breaking the Amish and English laws myself. But I smelled it on her sometimes. It wasn’t long after I discovered what she was doing that she disappeared.” As if a light had gone on in the boy’s head, he straightened, with a wide expression. “But why do you care so much about my dat?” “Three girls are dead, Monroe. Two of them were friends of yours. And your mother is missing.” Daniel hesitated and I held my breath. “Do you think there’s a possibility that your father had something to do with—” “No!” Monroe jumped up. “My dat has issues, but he’d never kill anyone —especially not my mother! She went somewhere else to live—to get away from the Amish!” The pain in Monroe’s voice was unmistakable. I pushed past Bobby and entered the interrogation room. “That’s enough for now.” I glanced at Daniel who was running his hand through his black hair. “Monroe, you’re going to see the judge in a few hours. We’ll get you some lunch and you can have a rest first.” I nodded to Todd, who’d been standing in the corner of the room the entire time. He lightly gripped Monroe’s arm and took him through the doorway. Monroe’s eyes were fastened to the floor as he passed me. When he was gone, I took the seat the kid had evacuated and Bobby pulled up the third chair and sat beside me. I stared at Daniel until he finally spoke. “I hope I didn’t go overboard on the kid.” He rubbed his face. “I’m just tired, Serenity. Tired of all the bullshit that’s been going on in community.” He looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot and wide. “It seems that ever since Naomi Beiler was shot in that cornfield by David Lapp, the insanity hasn’t stopped.” I glanced at Bobby, who nodded his agreement. They were right. The Blood Rock Amish community had suffered through more mayhem in the past year than most small farming communities dealt with in a lifetime. “I know, but it’s the investigations on hand that we need to focus on.” I met Daniel’s gaze. “Do you believe Monroe?” Daniel sighed. “Yeah, I do. I think he got into selling Saunders’ weed

because he wanted to get in trouble with the law.” He shook his head. “He wanted to be taken away from his father.” “That’s what I was thinking,” I said, opening up my notepad. “A logical assumption, but how do Monroe and his father fit into the Amish girls’ deaths? Bobby asked. He peered at me over his glasses, waiting for me elaborate. I tapped my fingers on the table and took a breath. “Other than Monroe selling the girls a small amount of marijuana, and him showing Makayla the shed that she was ultimately murdered in, I don’t have any solid evidence on either one of them.” “Monroe didn’t do it.” Daniel glanced between me and Bobby with a fierce look. “I’d bet my life on it. But Nicolas Swarey is another story altogether.” Understanding flared, and my eyes narrowed on my fiancé. “Do you know the man personally?” “Sure do. He’s a few years older than me, but he used to hang out with my older brother, Jonah. They got along fine until the girl Nicolas was sweet on showed my brother favor. Nicolas had a temper, even back then. He attacked my brother behind the schoolhouse one day, bloodying Jonah’s nose. They were only thirteen at the time, but still, Jonah coming into school with his face a mess left quite an impression on me. And the teacher. She talked to the elders and Nicolas was taken out of school before the end of the year. He never went back.” My mind had pictured the entire scene and now it swam with the possibilities. “Did he do anything else violent in those years, anything that might have been a precursor to turning into a murdering psycho later in life?” Daniel grunted. “He got into a lot of fights, and usually won. He wasn’t big, but he was a scrapper. Then he got involved with an English girl. The last I’d heard, he’d gone English to be with her and left the community. Sometime after I got out, he must have returned with his family.” “Why would an Englisher become Amish? I asked. Bobby answered me. “Perhaps life wasn’t working out for them on the outside. The Amish’s sense of community can be helpful when raising a family.” He wiped his glasses with his handkerchief and then replaced them. “Or maybe Nicolas Swarey forced his wife to become Amish. It would be an interesting question to ask the woman herself.” “I ran her name, and have an APB out on her—nothing yet,” I replied. “I also have an officer shadowing Mr. Swarey.” “You seem more relaxed, Serenity. Do you think we have our guy?” Daniel leaned forward, his hand cupping his chin. I let out a long breath. Daniel was right. The urgency I’d felt since

discovering Makayla’s body wasn’t gone, but it had lessened. I had Saunders and Monroe in custody, and eyes on Mr. Swarey. But it wasn’t in my nature to get cocky during an investigation. I was skeptical to the end. “Charlie Saunders is in lockup, and with the drugs and paraphernalia we found in his house, we got him for a while. The evidence doesn’t add up to him being the killer, but I always suspected he had some connection to the Amish girls. Now we know he was providing the drugs to Monroe, who in turn was getting them to the girls.” I met Daniel’s and Bobby’s curious stares. “But Nicolas fits the MO to a T. He’s known to be a violent man and the little rant he had over the Amish girls, and how they pretty much got what they deserved, was incriminating. He also had contact with the girls through the community. He would have known that the Fishers were out of town, and that the birdhouse factory warehouse would have been quiet that night when Hannah was murdered. Possibly, his son’s nefarious dealings with the girls was his motive.” I turned to Bobby. “You said there weren’t any matches to the DNA found at either crime scene with anyone in the database.” Bobby opened the file resting in his lap. “Both girls were raped, and Makayla managed to scratch her assailant enough that I was able to pull DNA from beneath her nails. Even with all that DNA, we couldn’t find a match.” “But that information goes against Mr. Swarey, doesn’t it? I ran his name earlier, and nothing came up,” I said. “That makes sense, since he grew up Amish. He wouldn’t even have a traffic violation. If he’s our killer, we wouldn’t have anything on him,” Bobby agreed. “I feel a but coming.” Daniel eyed me. “The only kink in the Nicolas Swarey theory is the Bilsby girl,” I said. “Perhaps that killing isn’t related to ours here in Blood Rock,” Bobby suggested. “No, I’m sure they are.” I looked between the two men. “Laura Grabill had a paper rose on her—that can’t be a coincidence.” “It was made from pages of a book, while the other two were just plain paper. And I studied your pictures of the paper flower from Bilsby; it was folded differently.” Bobby reached into his folder and pulled out several photographs, handing them to me. I’d studied them until my eyes felt like they were bleeding. Nothing new popped out at me this time. “To a layperson, like myself, they’re nearly the same. With the damaged state that Makayla’s and Hannah’s roses were in, I don’t know how you can say that definitively.” Bobby lightly shook his head. “I can’t. But I’d be willing to gamble that

the rose made from the pages of the romance novel is, indeed, a slightly different style than ours.” “Maybe the killer just folded that one differently for some reason. It could be random,” Daniel said. I gave him the pictures and he held each one, in turn, up close to his face. “Serenity’s right. I can’t tell, either.” “That’s where science goes out the window, and gut instinct comes into play on an investigation.” Bobby frowned at me. “In almost every case, there are variables, or pieces of the puzzle that don’t quite fit. We might know we have our man—or woman—but those little questions continue to baffle us, and—” “Make this line of work very frustrating,” I said, finishing Bobby’s train of thought. “Exactly.” Bobby replaced the pictures that Daniel handed him and closed the file. “When are you bringing Nicolas Swarey in for questioning?” I rubbed my temple. I’d caught about two hours of sleep in my office chair the night before, after I’d scrutinized the case files, photos and database information. I really needed another cup of coffee and some food, or I was going to pass out. “I need a little more, Bobby, to officially bring him in.” The knock at the door was quickly followed by Jeremy peeking his head into the room. “Do you have a minute, Sheriff?” I waved him in, and he handed me a copy of police report. “What’s this?” I asked. Jeremy looked a little excited and I frowned at him, causing him to swallow hard before he spoke. “I remembered something this morning, and when I went back through my desk, I found this report that I filled out, but didn’t officially file on record.” “Why would you do something stupid like that?” I was too tired and stressed to be easy-going on the officer. He was young, and on any other day, I would have had more patience with him. Jeremy ignored me. “It had to do with that kid in lockup last night— Monroe Swarey.” My tiredness disappeared and I stared at Jeremy with laser focus. “Back in the winter, about the same time you went up to the northern Amish community to help with the barn burning case, I was called out to his farm.” “The Swarey farm?” I spoke rapidly, wanting to get on with the conversation, but needing to make sure what Jeremy was saying. “Yes, same place. His mother had called in, asking for someone to assist her. It was a domestic issue. I got the call and went out there.” He took a nervous breath, probably because of the hard looks Bobby, Daniel and I were giving him.

“It’s all written down in the report, but basically, when I arrived, there was a fire in the yard. Turns out, the husband, Nicolas Swarey, was angry that the wife wasn’t—” He took a gulp and blushed. “—wasn’t having sex with him. He sawed up their bed, threw the pieces out the window and set it ablaze. The wife wasn’t like your ordinary Amish woman. She described the situation to me with no shyness, and even cussed at the man when he tried to interrupt her.” My eyes skimmed the paper and I looked up. “Why didn’t you file the report?” “I would have, but Mrs. Swarey told me not to. She took me aside and said she feared for her life, and her son’s, too. I gave her information about the women’s crisis center in town, and some encouragement, but she wouldn’t do it.” “Hmm. That’s very interesting,” I said. “Is it good enough to bring Nicolas in?” Bobby asked. I was about to answer him when Jeremy spoke again. “That’s not all.” My brows rose as I gazed back at the young officer, who shifted on his feet. “There were several dead dogs, too.” My eyes must have widened, because he hurriedly went on to say, “Mrs. Swarey told me there were three dead dogs behind her barn. She said they belonged to her neighbor and her husband had caught them killing their sheep one night. It’s perfectly legal to kill dogs attacking livestock, so I didn’t bring any charges.” He blew out a breath. “But I did go back behind the barn to check them out, at her insistence.” His face scrunched as if he’d bitten into something sour. “It was pretty terrible. Mr. Swarey hadn’t just shot the dogs, he’d dismembered them.” I looked at Bobby. “Now we’re hauling his ass in.”

25 CJ

I

sipped my water and watched Serenity take a large bite of her burger, chew a little, and then pop a fry into her mouth. “When was the last time you ate?” Serenity finished chewing, wiped her mouth and took a sip of her cola before answering. “Honestly, I’m not sure—maybe three days.” I leaned in closer. “You got him, right?” “God, I hope so.” Serenity covered her mouth, burped and then chuckled. “I don’t think there can be two such sick individuals in this county. I’m willing to bet we got our man.” I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “That’s a relief. It’s horrible what happened to those girls, but knowing it’s over and that we can all move on must make you feel pretty good.” There were dark circles beneath Serenity’s eyes and her skin was paler than usual, but she still offered me a small smile. “This case was tougher than any other I’ve worked on. Sure, we got it tied up pretty quickly, but what horrific crimes they were.” She glanced from side to side to see if anyone was listening, but no one in the crowded diner was paying any attention to us. When we’d first entered, Serenity had been accosted by several people from the media, and after she’d told them to expect a major announcement and a press conference the following day, they’d quickly dispersed, leaving us alone. Serenity pushed her food aside, folded her arms and leaned closer. “The bishop and the other Amish were talking like they believed the devil was loose in the community. Even Daniel thought an evil entity was in our midst.” My muscles tightened. “And you never believed that, did you?” Her eyes drifted, and she stared out the window. The sun was high in the sky, but to the west, I’d seen dark clouds billowing on the horizon. “There were some moments when I wasn’t so sure.” She shook her head.

“I’ve seen some crazy things in that community, miraculous healings and murder.” She looked at me with a steady, blue-eyed gaze. “Who’s to say there isn’t some truth to the idea that demons come into our world and cause people to do horrible things?” “I know, it’s hard to accept that such evilness exists inside people. But you’ve seen it before—it’s never a real monster committing those crimes. It’s a man or woman, flesh and blood, and totally sick in the head.” I shivered, even though the sun warmed my face. “It sure does make me feel better to think that it’s just human nature rather than some evil entity we can’t control.” Serenity’s brow furrowed. “I’m not so sure that makes me feel better about these kinds of crimes. It might be easier if there was a real cause for the brutality, and not just a broken mind. Like this Amish man we arrested. He’s had problems since he was a boy, just like a lot of people do. But what makes someone snap one day and start killing people?” She lowered her voice. “Now, what’s truly frightening is not knowing that.” This time, when the tremor shook me, Serenity saw. She forced a smile and a cheerful voice. “Enough about the murders. I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in it for months to come. What about you? Have you heard any news from the Amish authority on your living arrangements?” I took a sip of my drink and set the cup down carefully. “No, not yet. But I think it will be soon, now that the killer’s been arrested. The bishop will turn his focus on me.” I wished I didn’t sound so depressed. “It’s not a big deal, CJ. We’ll find you another rental in the county, maybe even near the settlement, so you’ll still be able to work on your rural paintings,” Serenity assured me. When I looked up, my eyes were moist, even though I tried hard to keep them dry. Serenity’s face dropped. “It’s not a big deal. Why are you crying?” I had promised myself that morning when Serenity had invited me to lunch that I’d keep the conversation light, and not mention what had happened the previous night with Joshua. After all, he’d been gone when I’d woken, and I hadn’t heard from him since. It was clear that he’d had a moment of weakness and in my tipsy state, I hadn’t had the presence of mind to stop it. We weren’t teenagers. It was just a fling by two lonely adults—no big deal—just like Serenity said. Then why did I feel like an emotional wreck? Serenity’s voice deepened. “Tell me what happened.” When she used that tone of authority, it was impossible not open up to her. Especially since I’d wanted to talk to her for a while about it. “I slept with Joshua Miller.” There I said it. And it sounded even worse out

loud. “You didn’t.” Serenity’s eyes bulged and her mouth opened. I wiped the last trace of tears from my eyes. “I did, and I know it was a mistake, a terrible mistake. That’s why I’m leaving today—heading back to Indy. I can stay with my sister until I find a place to rent.” I drew in a deep, trembling breath. “I’ll be fine.” Serenity’s pretty face flushed with anger. “No. You’re not moving just because of a little tryst—no one ever needs to know about it, CJ. Trust me, Joshua won’t say a thing.” I wrung my hands and thudded my head back against the seat. This was the same booth I’d sat in with Serenity and Elayne on my first day in Blood Rock. So much had changed in such a small period of time. “It wasn’t just a one-night stand to me.” I glanced away when Serenity’s brows shot up. “I have feelings for Joshua, and staying here is like pouring salt in the wound. We can never be together—it’s hopeless.” Serenity slumped in her seat, shaking her head. “What a rotten situation, and after everything you went through with Ryan. I’m truly sorry. You’re too good for all this shit.” I rolled my eyes and snorted. “No, I’m stupid, that’s what I am.” “Don’t you dare say that!” Serenity grunted loudly. “We’ve all made our mistakes with guys—trust me I have a list a mile long.” She exhaled and met my gaze, looking almost as sad as I felt. “Look at me. I’m engaged to a great guy. He’d do anything for me and I know his love is deep and real.” She swallowed and frowned. “But every night I go to sleep, wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake. And now he’s badgering me about the wedding, and I just can’t get excited about it. I think there’s something wrong with me.” “Do you think you might feel this way because Daniel used to be Amish?” I asked carefully. She shrugged. “Could be. He might drive a big pickup truck and watch TV every night, but the Amish is still in him. He’s more religious than I am—and sometimes he refers to them as his people. It kind of freaks me out when he does that.” “Joshua is a handsome man, for sure, but I think what attracts me the most to him is that he is Amish.” When Serenity arched her brows and tilted her head, I quickly added, “He’s so honorable and old fashioned. He’s a hardworking family man. Those types of guys are hard to come by nowadays.” Serenity’s smile was wistful. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The same things that drive me crazy about Daniel turn me on, too.” Her smile deepened. “Maybe we’re just suckers for impossible romances.”

“Yours isn’t impossible—you’re engaged!” “We aren’t married yet.” My face must have showed my shock, because she swiftly changed the subject. “Maybe a break from Blood Rock will do you good. I’ll keep an eye out for other rental properties. Perhaps you’ll decide to come back.” I reached for my purse and slid out of the booth before the tears began falling again. Serenity was going to support my decision to leave, even though she wanted me to stay. She was a good friend. “I’ll call you next week.” “Are you sure you have to go so soon?” Serenity stood with me. The jingle of the door turned my head. The tall, gray-bearded bishop was coming through the door with Katherine, and a man I guessed to be her husband. Seeing the Amish trio stung, but I also took their appearance as a sign that I was doing the right thing. If the bishop ever found out about me and Joshua, he and his family would suffer. And there was no way the two of us could be around each other after last night without suspicions being raised. Yes, I was doing the right thing—for everyone. I only wish it didn’t hurt so badly. Serenity blew out an irritated sigh at the sight of the bishop. She looked back at me. “I wish I could go with you.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and I laughed. She grasped me in a quick, tight hug, and backed up. “I’ll be in touch.” “I’ll miss you, Serenity.” “It was fun while it lasted,” she said quietly. A bearded man stood to the side, waiting to talk to the sheriff, and I took it as my cue to leave my friend. I gave Serenity one last smile and left her with the stranger. Serenity would be too busy in the coming days to miss me very much. I only hoped I could keep myself as distracted. With a sudden bubbling of anxiety, I approached the small Amish group seated at the table. I could be brave, and this was just the type of closure I needed. And also, so I couldn’t change my mind on the way home. Katherine looked up first. She was wearing a hunter green dress and white cap. Even without any makeup, the woman’s skin was porcelain smooth and her cheeks were pink. She smiled brightly, nudging the man beside her. “Joseph, this is the woman I was telling you about. She’s the one renting the Millers’ cottage. Nana and the girls are quite fond of her.” Joseph shifted his eyes to me and nodded curtly. I returned the gesture, and then turned my attention to the bishop, who was eyeing me with a slightly puzzled look, as if he’d just remembered I existed. I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Actually, I wanted to let you know I’m moving out this afternoon. An opportunity presented itself back in Indianapolis

and I’m going home.” Katherine’s face fell and Joseph’s bland expression didn’t change. But the bishop’s brows rose and he pursed his lips. “That’s probably for the best. It’s always better when a person makes up their own mind, instead of having the outcome dictated to them by another.” I stared at the old man’s smug face as my heart pounded. Regret at leaving hit me hard. I hated letting him win. But what choice did I really have? I guess I could have taken Serenity’s advice and found another place to rent, but then I’d be closer to Joshua than I wanted to be, and that would be trouble. I would be forever pining for the man, and eventually he’d begin dating a proper Amish woman, and I’d have to watch him get married. My pride stung and my feminist side reeled, but I forced a smile and said my goodbyes. When I swept out the door into the sunshine and felt the warm breeze on my face, I quickly put on my sunglasses. I had to cover my eyes—because the tears were falling again.

26 SERENITY

“I

thought you were in working in the lab this week, Professor Mullens.” My attention was only halfway on the man in front of me. My eyes had followed CJ to the table where the bishop and Katherine and Joseph Bender were seated. “Yes, well, I was, but I returned to Blood Rock to sift through some more period letters Mrs. Burgsley had recently dug up in the Statehouse.” The professor paused from his rapid speaking to gesture me back into the booth. I sighed, but joined him after watching CJ go through the diner’s front doors. It bothered me that she was leaving. For the first time in my adult life I had a real girlfriend to hang out with. I would miss the female companionship. Sure, I had my sister, but she was as busy as I was, and she worried too much, making conversations sometimes uncomfortable. I understood why CJ had to leave, though. It would be awful to be around a man you really liked, knowing the relationship couldn’t go anywhere. Sleeping with an Amish man would be like having an affair with a married man. All the secrecy would drive CJ nuts, and in the end, she’d lose him to another woman. I cleared my mind and looked across the table at the professor, who had resumed his chatter. “The letters from the settlers, combined with the bone fragments, musket balls, and pottery shards have given us a picture of what happened here on that fateful day in the summer of 1791. Granted, I have a lot more work to do to get it all sorted out for historical presentation and preservation, but we’re on our way to solving a mystery from over two hundred and twenty years ago.” I tilted my head and folded my arms in front of me, shifting my gaze from the table where the bishop sat to the professor. I really wanted to talk to the Amish leader, and I still had a meeting with the mayor that afternoon and a speech to prepare for the media. I didn’t have time for the professor’s theories—

most of which could never be definitively proven anyway. “I’d think you’d be over at the mayor’s office. He’ll be thrilled if you can put Blood Rock on the map with the story of a brutal massacre or a bloody Revolutionary War battle.” “A story? Is that what you think all this is—just a story?” I shrugged and gazed out the window at the local business people bustling up and down the sidewalks on the pretty afternoon. It was hard to believe that in just a week, two young women from my jurisdiction had been murdered and their killer arrested. Life in the town went on as usual—Blood Rock was a resilient place. “You of all people should understand the importance of unraveling the truth. That’s why I came to tell you the news first—your deputy said you’d be here at the diner, and I rushed right over.” He leaned over the table. “Our careers are quite similar, you know. You gather clues to solve modern-day crimes, while I do the same for historic events. The answers are there if we only take the time to really look for them. Sometimes those clues lead us to a very different conclusion than we were expecting, such as in this case.” His words swirled around in my head and I gazed back at him. “What is your conclusion about the Blood Rock Massacre legend, then? Did it even happen?” “Oh, yes, there was a massacre—two actually—but the killings were not committed by the Native Americans.” My brows rose and the professor seemed pleased with my reaction. He plowed on. “In the mid-to-late 1700s, this land was a very dangerous place. People had to deal with disease, infection, the weather and even starvation. But what really struck fear in the heart of the average settler were Native Americans —and outlaws.” He had my full attention and he knew it. He slowed down, picking his words with care, to tell his story even better. “In 1791, the Blood Rock area was still a wild, unlawful place. The Shawnee, Kickapoo and Potawatomi tribes were a just few that posed a never-ending threat to the settlers. But there were even more dangerous men on the frontier. The harsh conditions caused many ex-Revolutionary War soldiers and average men, to become thieves, rapists and killers. On a warm summer day, probably similar to today, a group of six to eight men converged on the spot by the river where a large Native American family was gathered. There would have been a few warriors, their wives and many children. They used simple pottery to gather roots, herbs, and water. Boys would have practiced with their spears, catching fish for the evening dinner. It would have been a peaceful scene—until the outlaws stepped out of the bushes, firing their guns, and reloading the muzzleloaders. The family didn’t

have a chance. The outlaws would have killed them all.” The professor paused and I couldn’t help the words from slipping from my mouth. “Why? Why would they do that?” He sighed heavily. “In my studies, which have been extensive, men like these had lost any sense of civility. They were living in a time and place where the darkest part of their beings could come alive and act out. Think about all the people you’ve arrested, all the crimes you know of, and then multiply that by millions. And yet we live in a society ruled by law and order. We have officers patrolling every city and town across America, and we don’t suffer the same hardship the people in the 1700s did. Yet, evil still runs amok. The murders of those two Amish girls is the perfect example. You ask why these men from the past committed such atrocious acts?” He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “It’s just human nature. In those days, there wasn’t anyone to stop them.” I licked my lips and waited. “Some parts of the story, like missing pieces of a puzzle, may never be filled in, but the evidence we’ve gathered suggests those same outlaws went to the hilltop a few days later, where the local preacher was delivering his sermon. Perhaps the settlers had threatened the outlaws for their violence against the Native Americans, who may have been living in peace alongside the settlement. Or maybe the outlaws sought to take the belongings from the people worshiping on the hilltop. They might have just been completely evil and deranged. The motive, we might never truly know, but one thing I believe is certain—it was the band of outlaws who murdered those people on the hill that day. I hold one letter in particular as evidence to my theory.” He pulled out a plastic encased letter from his satchel. It was yellow and the edges were worn. The writing was in flowing cursive. He read, “Dearest Emily—I’m sorry to inform you that your aunt, uncle and their two small children are dead. They, along with two dozen more poor souls were attacked by Indians a fortnight ago. When we came upon the bodies, they were nearly unrecognizable, but we did gather the jewelry, wedding rings and inscribed Bibles left at the scene. It seems they were enjoying Sunday worship when the heathens came upon them. God rest their souls, they are at peace now. But there will be no proper burial for our friends. Without getting too gruesome in my account, only pieces of them were left, as they were butchered the same as one would cut up a cow or pig. We are grateful, though, that no scalps were taken from the heads, and at least that disrespect was not done to them…” The professor looked up and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “There’s a little more but it’s not related to the massacre.” He held up the paper.

“This is the only letter, out of a handful of written accounts, to go into detail about the state the bodies were in. Since there weren’t records on most of the settlers involved, and Blood Rock wasn’t even a proper town at that point, the people who lost their lives that day disappeared from history. So over time, no one was sure if they even existed. There’s no evidence at all, written or otherwise, that says anything about the bodies being placed on a giant boulder, and it being later destroyed. That part is legend, and although it might very well be true, I can’t say much about it.” He slid the letter back into his satchel, and looked at his watch. I was still trying to erase the images from my head of what he’d described. “But as I said, all evidence my team found points to the legend being wrong as to who the actual perpetrators of the massacre were. There were too many bullets, and almost no spearheads at the location. And since the lead balls match the ones found by the river, and there were many bone fragments at both sites, it’s my theory that it was a band of outlaws that carried out both massacres. The part that convinced me thoroughly was what I read in the letter.” I tilted my head, absorbing everything he’d said, and feeling the tingling of apprehension about what it all meant. He continued, “Native American warriors of that era usually took scalps from their victims. It was a trophy to them, and worth the small amount of time needed to cut away the flap of skin from the head. If this was a retaliatory event, the warriors would have taken their scalps and left quickly, fearing reprisal. But the art of dismembering bodies takes longer, and although such atrocities may have been committed when Native Americans tortured people, it wasn’t something that we have any real historical pattern of.” “But we do have a lot of historical precedence for evil men committing such butchery,” I said. He nodded. “Yes, we do.” He replaced his glasses and rose from the booth, and I followed him. “You see, Sheriff, we were able to prove the legend is true— at least part of it.” “Somehow it seems worse that a group of outlaws killed those people for no good reason, rather than a tribe seeking revenge for the brutal murder of a peaceful family. I can deal with violence when there’s some reason you can grasp onto,” I said. “The total randomness of what you suspect happened is the most disturbing aspect.” “In my line of work, I have to speculate about motives, but sometimes a picture is painted that says it all. The thing we can take away from this excavation is that things aren’t always what they seem.” He glanced at his watch again. “I really must be going. The mayor is waiting for me.”

I tipped my hat to the man and let him leave. I had a hundred more questions, but was feeling a little overwhelmed with his news. Everything he said made sense, and he had enough circumstantial evidence to back it up, but in my mind, only more questions had been raised. Like why did they go on a murder spree in the first place and what happened to them afterward? I would probably never get those answers, but with the evidence the professor and his team had found, I was hopeful that almost any crime could ultimately be solved with the combination of forensic evidence and good old-fashioned detective work. The bishop, seeing that I was alone, gestured me over. I walked to the table with the resolve that I needed to talk to the man anyway. He motioned for me to take the seat across from him, and after greeting Katherine and Joseph, I turned my gaze back to the man with the snowy-white beard. “Your friend has finally come to her senses?” Bishop Esch said. I had to swallow down the first caustic response that came to mind. It was bad enough that CJ had to go, but to witness the bishop gloating about it soured my mood even more. “It’s what she wants to do, and that’s all that matters to me. I didn’t come over here to talk about CJ, though.” Katherine stared at me with wide eyes. “I’m sure you’ve already heard that I have Nicolas Swarey in custody.” The bishop’s mouth tightened. “Yes, I did hear that.” I drew in a breath, waiting for an argument. “Nicolas has always been a temperamental man, and it certainly didn’t help his state of mind to marry that English woman, either. But it’s still hard for me to believe he could have done that to those girls.” He pressed down his beard. “Are you sure the evidence points at him?” The diner’s occupants had thinned considerably, but there were still enough patrons to create a buzz of conversations around our table. And yet, I felt like I was completely alone with the small Amish group. They were each looking at me with such intensity I almost squirmed in my seat. I didn’t want to give my entire case away to the bishop and the Benders, but I did feel a need to justify the arrest to them, and give them some peace of mind to take back to the community. “His wife is missing. We’ve got an APB issued for her, and I have calls out to authorities in the entire tri-state area looking for her. That combined with his violent history, and the fact that his son was dealing drugs to Makayla and Hannah, give me proper cause to press charges.” The bishop glanced at Joseph, who lifted his chin for him to continue.

Bishop Esch went on to say, “We were aware of some of Monroe’s actions, but not the full extent of it. We were trying to rehabilitate him, but I feared it was no use. That boy has a troubled spirit and a reckless heart.” He folded his arms on the table. “Do you have the names of any other teens he was supplying to?” I grunted and worked hard to keep from rolling my eyes. “I’m still focused on the murder investigations.” The bishop narrowed his eyes. “But you arrested Nicolas Swarey.” “I haven’t officially filed charges yet. There’s a lot yet to do on the cases, but something’s been bothering me and I thought maybe one of you could shed some light on it.” I glanced between the bishop, Joseph and Katherine. Katherine pressed into her husband. “Do you have any idea what the connection between Laura Grabill from Bilsby, the two Blood Rock girls and Nicolas Swarey, might be?” Katherine answered. “Laura Grabill is Maryanna King’s sister-in-law. When Maryanna died a few months ago, some of the members of our church went to the funeral in Bilsby.” My heart was suddenly racing. “I’ve never heard of Maryanna King until now.” “You wouldn’t have,” Katherine said. “She married Aden Grabill two years ago and they moved back to Bilsby, where his people are from.” She laced her fingers. “It was really tragic. They were married less than two years when a semi-truck hit their buggy on an icy road. It was said that Maryanna died on the road, but Aden passed away in the hospital a couple days later.” I was trying to process what Katherine said. “Did the Bowmans or Kuhns go to the funeral?” Katherine shook her head. “No, no. The Bowmans haven’t been in Blood Rock so long, and didn’t know the family well. And poor Irene has been traveling back and forth to care for her sister in Iowa.” She nudged her husband. “Do you remember which families went?” Joseph twisted some of his beard between his fingers before looking at me. “The Kings, of course, went. And I think the Fishers were the other family. The weather was bad that week—a thick covering of snow on the roads—kept more from attending.” “Really, I don’t know what the King girl’s funeral has to do with anything,” the bishop said grumpily. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and sent a message to Daniel. “Maybe nothing. But other than a lot of distant relatives, it’s the first solid link I’ve gotten between the communities.” I ignored the bishop’s wide eyes. “Thank you, Katherine. Can you give me the King family’s address? I’d like to talk to

Maryanna’s parents.” “As difficult as it is to believe Nicolas killed the girls, what you told me is convincing. I think you’re grasping at straws disturbing Elmer and Charity King, though. It hasn’t been so long that their daughter died,” Bishop Esch said. “I’d feel a lot better if I could clear up a couple of things that have been bothering me. And besides, that’s something I’ve become good at—grasping at straws.”

27 CJ

“W

hy do you have to go?” Nora stood on the porch steps pouting. The sun had just set behind the western hills and the sky was still pink from its departure. It would have been a beautiful evening to sit on the rocking chair on the porch and enjoy the pretty sky and cooler air. But I was in a hurry to get away from the Millers’ farm before Joshua returned. The packing had taken longer than I anticipated, and now I was seriously in jeopardy of running into him. But seeing Nora’s open mouth and round eyes, I didn’t have the heart to go without offering her some explanation as to why I was leaving so suddenly. “My sister needs me,” I lied. “As much as I’d like to stay, I just can’t.” Nora eyed me suspiciously and picked up one of the last boxes sitting on the porch. For a seven-year-old kid, she was strong. She followed me out to my car and shoved it into the backseat with the others. The trailer behind my car was already bursting full, and I wondered how I’d managed to get all my stuff in the first time. I shut the car door and stood back, working hard to keep the happy smile on my lips for the girl’s benefit. “Be careful riding Ranger, but keep working with him. I think deep down, he’s a good pony. And make sure you give that cute little colt a kiss for me daily.” “Weren’t you even going to say goodbye?” the girl asked. There was a slight glint to Nora’s eyes, and I felt ashamed. My own selfishness to get out of dodge had caused me to forget about Joshua’s kids, and even old Nana. They had been through so much with the death of their mother, and they had become my friends. Now I was abandoning them. I knelt down in front of Nora and took her smaller hands between my own. “When you’re older, I hope you’ll understand. Sometimes grownups have things

going on, and we just need to get away. That’s where I am right now. I need to get away. I’m sorry if me leaving upsets you. Maybe someday I’ll come back for a visit.” “You won’t come back—just like Ma.” Nora jerked her hands away from me. “Mrs. Yoder has come to take Nana, me, Sylvia and John to her farm for dinner.” I glanced up the hill and noticed the horse and buggy parked beside the house for the first time. I nodded. “I promise I’ll come back to see you again, Nora. And I will keep my promise.” I thought I saw wetness at the corner of the child’s eyes, but she wasn’t going to allow me to know for sure. She spun around, running up the driveway. I stood back up with a lump in my throat. It was always the kids who suffered when adults had relationship issues. As I watched the little girl retreating to her farmhouse, my resolve strengthened. It would only get harder to leave the longer I stayed. Nora was already attached to me and I’d only been living in the cottage for a short time. My presence would bring more tears later on when I had to go. From the way the bishop had acted, my days on the Millers’ farm were numbered anyway. With one last glance up the hill, I took a determined breath and went back into the house to do a final check of the rooms. I made it in and out of the kitchen and living room quickly, but I paused in the bedroom, staring at the bed. My bedding had been stripped off the mattress and packed away in boxes, now buried in the trailer. The room was darkish, with only a little gray light coming in from the window. I took a step forward and traced my hand over the edge of the mattress, imagining the night before. I blushed, remembering Joshua’s strong hands on my stomach and other places. There had been an urgency to our love making, as if we both knew there would only be one night. It had been so sweet and fleeting. The throat clearing behind me made me jump and whirl around. Joshua stood in a sweaty shirt, frowning. “What are you doing?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m leaving—going back to Indy.” I looked away, cringing at the expression on his face. “This will make it easier for you, for the bishop, for everyone.” He took long strides into the room and stopped in front of me. If I swayed at all, we’d touch. “I don’t want you to go,” he said firmly. My chest constricted and I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “I don’t know what to do, or even what’s the right thing to do, but you

can’t leave—not after what we did last night.” I found my voice. “It was just sexual tension. We were both lonely, and I’d had a few drinks. Neither one of us was thinking clearly.” “You regret it, then?” Joshua’s brows rose and he tilted his head. I thought back to the night of love making and how good it had felt—how right it felt to be in his arms. Even now, being alone with him and standing beside the bed that we’d rolled around on the previous night, little sparks came to life in my belly. I wanted to do it all over again. But then I thought of Nora running away from me up the hill and I shook my head. “There’s definitely chemistry between us—no denying that—but it can never work. You’re Amish and I’m not. The bishop was going to kick me out, and then what?” He leaned in closer, clutching my shoulders. “We could find another place for you to rent, outside of the community. It would give us more time to figure things out.” Anger batted away the butterflies in my stomach. “And then what would we do? Sneak around, have sex occasionally, always worrying that someone’s watching us? We’re in our thirties. I’m not interested in a perpetual one-night stand. I need someone solid in my life—someone who will take me out on dates, a man who isn’t ashamed of being with me.” “I’m not ashamed of you, CJ. It’s just our way. You’re forbidden to me. No one can know about us.” Joshua’s voice was desperate, but as he said the words, he’d bent down until his lips were nearly brushing mine. “I haven’t felt this alive since Miranda died. I can’t lose you, too.” His words were like a cup of cold water in my face. I pulled from his grasp. “What is the truth about Miranda? Why did she flee the house in the middle of a storm, and why didn’t you tell me you lost a son that same day?” Joshua took a step back and removed his hat, rubbing his forehead. He looked pained when he met my gaze. “Mirn wasn’t right that day. She’d been depressed ever since little Micah had been born. She’d had the same symptoms with her previous pregnancies, but this time it was even worse.” He paced across the room to the window and looked out. “I tried everything I knew to help her. I took care of the older children and would even make dinners when I arrived home from working on the building crew. But nothing helped.” He blew out a heavy breath. “On the morning of the storm, when I awoke, I found my wife standing over our son’s crib. She was holding a pillow, and she kept saying, over and over, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ I knew before I even reached the crib that my son was gone.” Joshua turned wild eyes on me. “She had smothered her own child…and I could not forgive her. I said horrible things to her, wishing her

dead, along with our child. The rest of the day was a blur, with visitors and family, and we avoided each other. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet. We had other children who needed a mother. I thought even a deeply troubled mother was better than none at all. “I’d known since the birth she hadn’t been right in the head, but I didn’t talk to anyone about it. She needed community help or maybe even a doctor’s, and I’d let her down. My own guilt about my son’s death kept me from talking to the elders or the authorities. When she took the horse and buggy out that night, she had no intention of coming back.” He took a shuddering breath. “I’ll never know if she meant to take her life or not, but I’m sure she wasn’t coming back, either way.” Tears streamed down his cheeks and I went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He whispered in my ear, “I told Miranda that I wanted her dead for what she’d done to our little boy—and at the time, I had meant it.” I held him for some moments, letting him rock against me with quiet sobs. His story had chilled me to the bone. The tragedy of it was almost too overwhelming to think about, let alone live with. When he lifted his wet face, I cupped it with my hand and he pressed into my touch. “You aren’t to blame, Joshua. Any father would have reacted the same way. Your son had just been taken from you, and by the one person who was supposed to protect him more than anyone else.” His eyes were glazed over and he still shuddered from emotion. I continued, “But post-partem depression is a real sickness. A lot of women suffer from it. Most get through it without doing what your wife did, but usually no one knows how bad the woman is suffering until it’s too late.” I wiped his tears away with my fingertips. “You can’t blame yourself, and you have to find it in yourself to forgive her, or else the guilt and anger will destroy you.” “You are the only person, besides me, who knows what really happened to my son.” He swallowed and sniffed in the emotions. “If I let the world know what really happened, my wife’s memory will be blackened, and my children will have to live with that knowledge.” I took his face between my hands and looked into his eyes. “Then don’t tell anyone, ever. It won’t bring your son back, and your wife is no longer here to face justice.” I sighed. “I’ll keep your secret, Joshua. And so should you.” His eyes cleared and they wandered over my face as he wrapped one of my curls around his finger. “You are an amazing woman,” he murmured before his lips touched mine. The kiss tasted like salty tears, but I didn’t care. I pressed against Joshua, holding on for dear life. I didn’t want to ever let go.

The world was so damn unfair. But as he pulled off my shirt and lifted me onto the bed, I didn’t care about his tragic story or the fact that he was Amish. Since we’d already made love, one more time wouldn’t make any difference. At least that was what I told myself.

28 SERENITY

B

y the time I was seated at the Kings’ kitchen table with a cup of coffee, the darkness was almost complete beyond the window. A small breeze stirred the curtain above the kitchen sink and I breathed in the country scents of grass and cornstalks. Daniel sat beside me. He’d been confused when I’d asked him to join me for a drive out to the settlement, but he’d readily accepted. Now he wore an expression of trepidation as he talked with Elmer and Charity King. “Maryanna was your oldest child?” he asked. “Yes, she would have been twenty-two this year. She was a good girl, and she was so happy with Aden.” She pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “I’m glad they’re together in Heaven. If either one of them had been left behind, it would have been a very heavy burden to bear.” I admired the woman’s composure. She had dark hair and eyes. Her plumpness and lines at the corners of her eyes gave me the impression of usually jovial lady. I could see she was trying hard to be strong. And then something caught the corner of my eye and I jumped up, going over to the shelf in the hallway off the kitchen. I held my breath and picked the item up, returning to the table with it. “Where did you get this?” I asked, trying to speak normally, even though adrenaline was coursing through my veins. “My dear Maryanna made that for me. She was obsessed with paper flowers. I have a box full of them.” “Did she ever teach anyone else how to make them?” I asked, holding the rose out for Daniel to see. He carefully took it between his fingers. Charity chuckled and Elmer barked out a laugh. “Most people don’t have the patience for the intricate folds,” Charity said, smiling fondly. “But Laura took a liking to the activity. Poor girl is gone now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if

she didn’t have her own box full of them.” “Do you mean Laura Grabill?” I asked and held my breath. “Yes, that’s her. She’s gone now, just like my sweet Maryanna. I can only hope they’re together, with our Lord, and making their paper flowers.” Charity looked away. When I stepped off the porch, I had my cell phone in hand. “Who are you calling?” Daniel asked, opening the Jeep’s passenger door for me. “Sheriff Moran. We need to go to Bilsby—right now.” Daniel nodded without question. He knew the urgency in my voice and he trusted my instincts. I only hoped I was wrong.

29 CJ

I

paused in the doorway to look back at Joshua. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. There were no sheets to cover his nakedness and his clothes were still strewn on the floor where he’d flung them earlier. I felt the heat on my cheeks as my eyes traveled over his muscled arms, slim waist and long legs. I blinked and turned away. If I didn’t get out of there now, I would be tempted to take my clothes off again and wake him up. And that was last thing either one of us needed. I told myself I was doing the smart thing as I lightly shut the front door behind me and jogged down the porch steps. The cool night air collided with my flushed skin and I rubbed my arms. Crickets chirped and moonlight spilled down on the farm. I saw Mia and her foal in the pasture across the driveway. She looked up and nickered at me and I was tempted to go to the fence, but shook the desire away. I need to get away. Once I was in the car, I started the engine, and touched the gas pedal softly. As I pulled away from the house, I craned my neck to look back at the dark cottage. I was half expecting—and maybe even hoping for—Joshua to burst through the doorway and chase after me. That was the kind of thing that would happen in a romance novel, and not my real life. When I turned onto the road, all was quiet and no one was chasing after me. It’s really better this way, I told myself. My cell phone vibrating made me look down. The number was unrecognizable. “Hello,” I answered. “Hey, CJ. It’s Caleb—the Amish driver. Remember me?” “Yeah, sure, but how did you get my number?” “Don’t you remember, you gave it to me the night at the pub?” He

chuckled and I felt stupid, remembering our small-talk while we had waited for Serenity to clear out the pub. “I was going to check with my artist friend about getting those canvases on sale for you.” “Yeah, I do remember.” I was distracted and not in the mood to talk to anyone, but I forced the sound of friendliness into my voice. “Well she gave me a box full of supplies she doesn’t need anymore. She’s eloping with her boyfriend and they’re moving to Thailand, of all places.” “You know, right now isn’t a really good time for me—” Caleb cut me off. “I know it’s last minute, but she just gave me the stuff, and I’d really like to get it out of my van. I have an early morning run with an Amish family and I need all the room I can get.” I tilted my mouth away from the phone and sighed. I was almost to one of the main roads that would take me out of the county. I hesitated, glancing at the clock. It was almost eleven and I really wanted to put as much distance between me and Joshua as possible. But I knew that I wouldn’t be back in Blood Rock to get the canvases and I hated to leave Caleb hanging. And free stuff was always nice. In the days to come, I’d need to really focus on my painting to keep me sane. Although I wouldn’t have the beautiful country landscapes to paint anymore. “Where do you want to meet?” I asked him, pausing at a dark and quiet intersection. “I’m behind the Dinner Bell Market. I had to pick up some packages to deliver the Yoders, and I was running late from my last run. There’s a white building—a little shop. You can’t miss it if you pull your car around back.” “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” No sooner had I hung up and pressed the gas pedal than the phone vibrated again. It was a call from Joshua. I stared at the phone, lighting up and vibrating on my console, debating whether I should pick up. I could picture Joshua, disheveled and upset, sitting on the bale of hay beside the phone on the wall in the barn. I at least owed him one phone call, didn’t I? I grasped the phone and answered. “There’s nothing to say, I’m leaving town and that’s the end of it,” I said into the phone, without even saying hello. “CJ, please come back. We need to talk.” It took all my resolve not to do a U-turn in the road right then and there. “I can’t do this, Joshua. I need more from you than you’ll ever be able to give me. I don’t want to screw up your life.” He drew in a deep breath. “At least wait until tomorrow morning. You

shouldn’t be driving the roads this late at night, and upset, besides.” What he said made sense, and that he seemed to be worried about my safety made a feeling of contentment wash over me that I wished I hadn’t just experienced. I hardened my heart. “Look it won’t work, so stop bothering me. I’m going to stop by the Dinner Bell Market to meet up with Caleb—the driver. He’s giving me some art supplies, and then I’m heading back to Indianapolis. I’ve already booked a room at a hotel for the night. I’ll be fine. This is for the best.” The last part was a lie, but I thought giving him more details sounded like I really had my act together, and that would encourage Joshua to let me go. “Please don’t do this,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” I hung up and turned my phone off. Someday, I’d look back on this entire ill-fated relationship and laugh about it. I was doing the right thing. Ten minutes later I followed Caleb’s directions and pulled around the back of the market. The property was lit only by moonlight and there weren’t any houses nearby. Several small outbuildings were spaced out behind the market and at first, I wasn’t sure which one Caleb meant until I spotted his van parked behind the last one. The gravel driveway turned to pot-holed dirt and I slowed my car, cringing every time it dipped down and I heard the scraping sound. I gingerly stepped out of my car, trying to avoid the puddles. A feeling of relief washed over me when I spotted Caleb’s hand waving from the crack in the doorway of the small white building. The dark shadows, combined with the remote location, gave the place an eerie feeling. Certainly not a place where you’d want to be left alone, especially after all the terror that the killer had stirred up in the community. But that evil man was behind bars, and he couldn’t hurt anyone again. It was odd that Caleb wasn’t waiting in his car, though, but then maybe he was still getting the packages. I just hoped he was quick about it. My willpower was brittle thin when it came to Joshua. And I hated breaking my promise to Nora. But when I was finally out of Blood Rock, I’d never look back.

30 SERENITY

I

knocked on the door, peeking into the darkened window. “I really hate waking the family at this hour, but this is important,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Sheriff Moran. He had his hands on his hips and was glancing around. Daniel stood at the bottom of the porch steps, beside the Bilsby Sheriff’s cruiser. “If your hunch is correct, this isn’t something that can wait until morning,” the sheriff replied. The door opened a crack and Mr. Grabill peeked out. His eyes passed over each of us and landed on his sheriff. “What’s going on?” he said sleepily. His wife pushed the door open wider and joined him as he stepped out onto the porch. His shirt wasn’t tucked into his pants and I imagined him hurriedly pulling his clothes on after hearing the knocks at his door. His wife wore a dark dress and her hair was in a ponytail that reached her hips. She didn’t have time for a cap, either. At ten, it wasn’t horribly late for most folks, but without TVs and internet to keep the Amish busy, and with early morning farm chores, I knew they turned out the lights before everyone else normally did. Sheriff Moran nodded to me to take the lead, and I wasted no time. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but some new information came to light in Blood Rock, and I have a few questions for you.” Mrs. Grabill nodded and looked at me with the same hollow eyes I remembered. Her husband didn’t move. From my purse, I pulled the paper rose that Charity King had given me and held it out. “You know about the paper rose that was found at your daughter’s crime scene, and you’d mentioned earlier that your daughter used make the flowers as a hobby. Does this look familiar to you?” Mrs. Grabill studied the flower and raised her gaze. “This looks like Maryanna King’s work. She’s the one who taught my Laura who to make them.

And Laura love to create the paper flowers, but hers were unique.” She turned and wagged a finger at her husband, and he slipped back into the house. A moment later he reappeared, clutching a shoebox in his hand. “These were Laura’s,” he said, opening the box. I leaned over and plucked a flower out and held it up to the moonlight. But Sheriff Moran stepped up with his flashlight and shined it directly on the object I held. It was just as delicate as the one Maryanna had made, but the style was slightly different, and whereas Maryanna’s were made from pure white papers, all of Laura’s were created from pages of books. I glanced up at Mrs. Grabill. “They’re beautiful, but were you all right with your daughter cutting up all her books?” She smiled sadly. “Oh, I didn’t mind her doing it, except—” She stopped and looked at her husband. He nodded for her to continue. “Lately, she’d taken a liking to some kinds of books I didn’t approve of. It really wasn’t her fault, we blamed the young man who provided her with them.” My heart began pounding in my chest. “Who was this young man?” “His name is Caleb. He’s a driver for the King family from Blood Rock. He always had a box full of books in his van. He’d pass them out to the girls who liked to read.” I nodded, barely able to catch my breath, and mumbling more apologies for waking them and then my goodbyes, I left the couple on the porch and met with Sheriff Moran and Daniel at the cruiser. My phone was already in my hand. “How could I be so wrong about someone?” I looked at Daniel with the sinking feeling of complete dread. “I sat across a table and talked to Caleb Johnson for long enough to have picked up some kind of deranged vibes from him—but nothing. I left him thinking he was a good kid, someone who’d make a fine officer.” I shook my head, shocked at how thoroughly I’d been duped. “But Nicolas Swarey is in jail—he’s the person you think killed the girls,” Daniel offered weakly. “I don’t anymore.” I glanced at the other sheriff, who was patiently waiting for me to explain. “Caleb is the connection between those girls—the one piece of the puzzle that’s been missing.” I nodded to Sheriff Moran. “If you put an APB out on him, I’ll have my local guys try to pick him up in Blood Rock. He doesn’t know we’re coming for him—that gives us an edge.” My heart throbbed when I got into the Jeep. Daniel couldn’t get the engine started quickly enough for me. “Hurry, Daniel. I have a bad feeling that Caleb might strike again.” I glanced out the window at the moon, shining high in the sky. There was something wicked in the air I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Maybe you’re jumping to conclusions, Serenity.” When I whipped around to glare at him, he hurriedly added, “Giving away romance novels isn’t a crime. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that he knew those two girls.” I held onto the hand grip as Daniel peeled out. He might have his doubts, but at least he wasn’t being leisurely about getting back to Blood Rock. “When I met him at the pub the night we brought Monroe in, I decided to ask him a few questions. The drivers in the community hear all kinds of gossip. I thought I might get lucky, and he’d spill the beans about something we hadn’t heard about yet.” I swallowed a deep breath and shook my head. “I didn’t have thoughts that the kid had anything to do with the crimes himself. He was smart and gregarious, even charming. Certainly not the type of guy you’d be suspicious of raping and strangling young women, and then cutting up their bodies.” “But isn’t that what the devil is—a deceiver and a charmer?” I looked at Daniel. He was staring straight ahead, his strong profile shadowed and unreadable. It was moments like this when I saw the Amish man, minus a beard and suspenders. Deep down, he was more spiritual than he cared to admit. “I really hope you’re speaking metaphorically,” I said, dialing Todd’s number. After I hung up with the startled Todd, and was feeling a little better that my first deputy would have every officer in the department scouring Blood Rock for the Amish driver, I settled back in the seat and risked a look back at Daniel. He was still focused on the road, but now wore the kind of scowl I couldn’t ignore. “So you believe, like the bishop, that Satan is committing these crimes?” He snorted out a short laugh. “Of course not. But I think he affects people, causes them to do horrible things.” He glanced my way. “How else can you explain someone, whether it’s Nicolas Swarey or this Caleb Johnson fellow, murdering those girls that way?” I sank deeper into the seat, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable. I understood where he was coming from, and the conversation reminded me of the ones I’d had with CJ and the professor that very afternoon. “People are by nature evil.” When he shook his head, I added with more force, “I’ve seen it, Daniel. Whether it’s a man who beats his wife or a serial killer, or hell, even an outlaw from two hundred years ago, they come out as innocent babies. Over time, some of them revert back to basic human nature. Simple as that. There’s no evil entity making them do it.” “You’ve kind of made my point for me. People are born innocent, and then

some go bad. Maybe those individuals are weak, and are more easily influenced by corruption.” “Does it really matter?” I asked. “In the end, we still have three beautiful young women dead. They’ll never get married, have kids or grow old. And the bastard that did that to them is going to pay—hopefully with a lethal injection.” “I’m not arguing that the guy deserves to die for his crimes. I’m not against capital punishment. But I won’t ever believe that what I witnessed in that building—Hannah’s body cut up, bleeding and violated—wasn’t the act of the devil, in some fashion or another. Pure evil does exist and is walking among us.” I stared out the window at the dark farms we passed. Yep. Evil did exist, and it even lurked in the quaintest of places. The rest of the ride was mostly silent. I called Bobby, giving him the heads up about Caleb Johnson, and checked in with both Todd and Jeremy several times. We had just crossed into Blood Rock territory when my phone rang. It was a local number, but not one I had saved. I said hello with some trepidation. “Sheriff, it’s Joshua Miller. Have you spoken to CJ?” I leaned forward, unease tightening my muscles. “I had lunch with her earlier, but I haven’t spoken to her since then. What’s up?” I was willing to guess that the Amish man wasn’t pleased that CJ moved out so abruptly. He probably had grown as fond of her as she had of him. Having sex would have made the waters of their relationship even murkier. But he wasn’t the type to call me after dark for emotional support. His voice held an edge that put me immediately on high alert. He sighed into the phone. “I’m not for sure there’s any problem, really. It’s just a gut feeling I have.” He paused, and I waited. “CJ moved out today, although you might have already known that.” “Yes, I did,” I said simply. I could picture him nodding with the phone in his hand. “She left after dark, said she was going back to Indianapolis, but I called her when she was on the road and she mentioned she was stopping to meet someone for art supplies before she left Blood Rock.” He spoke fast, and with his slight accent, I strained to listen. “I don’t think she should be making the drive this late at night.” He hesitated, but he risked exposing his relationship with CJ anyway. “She’s upset, Sheriff. I just have a bad feeling about it.” “Who is it?” Daniel whispered, but I ignored him. A battle was raging inside of me. I understood why CJ wanted to get of town as soon as possible. She’d slept with an Amish man. Joshua was handsome and kind—and completely unattainable for anything more than a few hookups.

I’d want to flee that kind of grief myself. But I also couldn’t ignore his sincere worry that something might be wrong. If I didn’t do anything and something happened to CJ, I’d never forgive myself. But oh, would she be pissed if I interfered in her escape. “Do you know who she was meeting up with?” I said, making the decision to thoroughly ruin CJ’s evening. “Caleb Johnson—the Amish driver. Do you know him?” My heart sputtered and I caught my breath as I reached out and clutched the dashboard. Daniel slowed the Jeep to a crawl on the lonely roadway. “Where was she going to meet him?” I breathed. “I believe she said the Dinner Bell Market. Is there anything I can do to help?” Joshua’s voice was faraway. “Pray for her,” was all I could say.

31 CJ

I

t took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the inside of the dimly lit building. Only a single lantern hung on a wall, reminding me of the ones I’d seen in Katherine’s and Joshua’s homes. I even caught a faint whiff of gas. The wooden floor was swept and only a few pallets were stacked in the corner. Otherwise, the small barn was empty. Unease spread through me like a wildfire when I didn’t see any boxes or packages anywhere. I turned around, about to ask Caleb about it, when he closed the door, darkening the inside even more. “Where are the packages you were talking about?” I asked, working hard to control the quiver in my voice. Don’t be paranoid, CJ, I whispered in my head. Caleb is a nice kid. But he circled me with a twist to his lips I’d never seen before, and I began to sweat, not only from the stuffiness in the room, but from fear. “Some women are so trusting—so foolish,” he said. His voice was quiet and polite. “Hey, I have to get going. I have a long drive ahead of me.” I walked toward the only doorway, but Caleb was quicker. He moved sideways in a fluid motion to block me. My mind burned with ideas of escape, but without a weapon, I had no easy way out and away from Caleb. I suddenly realized with sickening clarity that Serenity had made a mistake. The man she had in county lockup wasn’t the Amish girls’ murderer. Caleb was. Caleb tilted his head. “Oh, no. Were you leaving Blood Rock this very night?” When I forced myself to nod, he said, “That’s so unfortunate for you.” He grinned, looking more like the witty college student I had thought he was. “You really should have left yesterday. That would have been much better for you. But I know how it is. It’s always difficult to get away from the Amish once

they get under your skin, whether you want them to or not.” My lips were dry and my heart raced, but adrenaline also pumped through my veins. I was more alert than I’d ever been. The moonlight shining through the lone window was sharp in my peripheral vision, and it illuminated something on the wall. A bungee cord hung there, the kind with heavy hooks on each end. It might be used as a weapon, but I’d have to get to it first. I tried to remember the news articles I’d read about the murders, and what Serenity had told me in confidence. After the girls had struggled, they’d been subdued and raped. Later Caleb had strangled them, and then he’d cut into their stomachs. Serenity had mentioned bite marks and fractures. Caleb was a coldblooded killer. He was completely sick in the head, too, even though I’d never seen it. I’d enjoyed several conversations with him and even trusted him enough to meet him late at night in an unfamiliar building. I’d been a complete blind fool, but perhaps some of that friendly, clever guy I’d imagined Caleb to be was still in there someplace. Perhaps I could talk him down, or at least get him to relax enough that I could get free. I’d worked with cops for most of my adult life, and I’d dated one for a couple of years. One of my closest friends was the sheriff of Blood Rock. I wasn’t as naïve as the Amish girls Caleb had lured to their deaths. I had a chance to survive. He slipped a small backpack from his shoulders, and it hit the ground with a clanking sound that made me think of metal tools. I forced myself to breathe as he took a step forward. He was holding what appeared to be a long length of thin rope. I forced my throat and mouth to work. “You sound kind of bitter toward the Amish. What did they do to you?” He stopped. “You’re going to talk to me—try to distract me, or make me think of you as more of a human being, and not a piece of meat.” He laughed at my widened eyes. “I’m an avid reader, and one of my favorite genres is true crime—especially serial killers. They’ve always fascinated me. People like Dahmer, Gacy and Sutcliffe are some of my favorites. But there are so many more. And I’ve studied them all.” Caleb was taller and stronger than me. I would have about as much luck getting the better of him in a physical fight as his other victims had. I tried to be brave and smart. The smooth voice was not my own when I spoke. “You never answered my question. If I’m correct in my calculations, you killed three Amish girls. It seems like you must have had some kind of grudge against the culture to pick them.” He scrunched up his face. “But you’re not Amish. Perhaps, they were just

easy targets, and so are you.” His words startled me, and my knees went weak, but I managed to step to the side an inch. He casually followed my movement, but didn’t step forward, yet. I had to keep him talking. “I think you’re lying. It was personal with those girls.” A small smile broke on his lips. “This is so much fun. You’re much better than the others. Hannah just begged for her life and fought like a wildcat, while Makayla tried to talk to me a little, but everything she said was nonsense. Now Laura, she had a crush on me. She even offered me a gift, but that was a mistake, because it reminded me of someone else.” He frowned deeply. “And yes, that girl was Amish. I guess you can say Laura’s gift is what set me off—and the death of that other Amish girl. I’d always assumed I’d someday get my chance to hurt her the way she hurt me. But then she died in an accident, taking all my joyful anticipation to the grave with her.” I took the bone he’d thrown me. “What did she do to you?” He grunted and rolled his eyes. “I suppose, since you’re going to be dead in an hour, it doesn’t really matter if I tell you about Maryanna. But I warn you” —his eyes narrowed— “talking about her will make me want to do even more gruesome things to you than I already have planned.” I swallowed and lifted my chin. “Such a brave woman,” he said, shrugging. “My dad drove the Amish when I was kid. That was before he died of cancer. He was a mean son of a bitch. The alcohol made him even meaner. He never did anything with me, like take me to a ball game or swimming, or the usual father-son stuff. He ran off my mom when I was a toddler, and after that, there were a string of women and lowrent apartments. Terrible things happened to me in those apartments.” He took a breath and gazed out the window, and I rolled my weight onto the balls of my feet, waiting. “The only good thing in my life was the Amish community. When he’d take me along on the driving trips in the community, I got to play in the grass and eat good food. Back then, I was kind of shy and backward, and the Amish kids didn’t have much to do with me, except for one little girl. She was kind and took me under her wing. Over the years, I became fond of her, even had a crush, you could say. But as it is with the Amish, they rarely become involved with outsiders. The ones who want to stay Amish always hook up with their own kind. And Maryanna was no different.” While Caleb talked, I inched my way closer to the wall, and as he said his last word, I sprinted to the wall and grabbed the cord with the hooks. Caleb was at my back when I turned around, and I struck out with my weapon. The hook hit

his cheek with a snapping sound and he reached for his face with a shriek. The adrenaline got my legs pumping without thought. My fingers brushed the doorknob when Caleb’s arms closed around my chest. We fell to the floor with a hard jolt to my shoulder. I kicked up, making contact with his stomach, but it wasn’t enough. His fist slammed into my face, knocking me sideways. I drew into a fetal position as he pummeled my head and arms with slaps and punches. Each time he struck me, I flinched, but I didn’t really feel any pain. My mind was reeling that he’d gotten me on the floor, and now he was going to rape and kill me. He jumped up and grabbed my hair, dragging me to the center of the room. I screamed, feeling sharp pain for the first time. I kicked back and flailed, trying to get up, but he kicked me, aiming for my back and legs. One strike hit my face and blood exploded from my nose. The stickiness ran into my mouth, and I gagged on the taste of my own blood. My limbs felt like jelly, and each swing I took missed its mark. Caleb rolled me over, and the thin rope cut into my wrists as he bound me. He jumped up and stood above me, smiling broadly. Tears ran down my cheeks and blood continued to trickle from my nose. I shifted, trying to sit up, but the pain in my back kept me from doing the simple task. I fell backward, my chest heaving, and my vision cloudy. Caleb chuckled low and long. “And you thought you had a chance…really thought you could outsmart me—outmaneuver me. You dumb bitch,” he shouted. “I’m too good for you!” His last words danced around in my head. Was he gloating that he’d won or was he trying to convince his demented mind that he was too good for me? I feared the latter was true, and it had especially been true with the first girl he’d been sweet on. I absently thought of how smart she’d been for pushing him away, as my mind began to slow down, and thinking became harder. “Now I’m going to show you how superior to you I really am.” With blurred vision, I saw Caleb’s figure standing over me. His hands went to his pants. Then I heard the rattle of a belt, and the unzipping sound. I began to scream.

32 SERENITY

D

aniel didn’t even have the Jeep in Park when I jumped out in front of the Dinner Bell Market. I ran past the vegetable bins and the rocking chairs. Daniel caught up with me easily and ran alongside. We turned the corner and picked up speed down the gravel hill. The rumbling rhythm of the train passing by on the tracks right across the road was deafening. I tried to ignore the sound when I spotted CJ’s car parked at the bottom of the hill in front of a cluster of small buildings. Once I’d hung up on Joshua, it had only taken Daniel a couple of minutes to speed along the dark, country roads to reach the market. I had pulled my 9 MM before I’d even left the Jeep, and now I savored the feel of its heaviness in my hands. I’d worked hard to go to that quiet, unemotional place inside me. The place where I knew I had a life to save and being terrified wouldn’t get the job done. CJ wasn’t my close girlfriend any longer. She was another victim who needed my help. If I didn’t approach the situation with that mindset, I might make a horrible mistake that would cost another innocent’s life. I skidded to a stop beside Daniel and raised my gun. I nodded for him to take the first building and I went to the second. There wasn’t time to cajole Daniel. He’d have to take care of himself on this one. The clank, clank, clank, clank as the train passed over the tracks was still booming in my ears, and I was glad for it. It gave us the opportunity to approach the buildings without being heard. As I reached the door to the second building, I spotted the nose of the white van poking out from behind the furthest building. I stretched my legs and ran over the gravel drive, jumping puddles and dodging low branches. This path wasn’t used often. It was the perfect place to have your way with a woman and then kill her.

Caleb would have had to make plans to dispose of CJ’s car, but that wouldn’t be too difficult. There were any number of secluded spots nearby to park the car, leaving it for discovery at a later date. Up until now, Caleb had been fairly smart choosing his victims and murder sites. But it was an evolutionary thing. He was definitely getting better. Once he started his murder spree, his insatiable appetite had become a problem for him. Eventually he was going to screw up, and taking CJ was the biggest screw up of all. I slowed to a jog, and sucked in hard breaths, pressing my ear to the doorway. The noise of the train kept me from hearing anything, but I didn’t need to. The footprints in the mud outside the doorway told me they were in there. Images of Makayla’s and Hannah’s butchered bodies sprang to mind, and I gripped my gun in one hand and the doorknob in the other. I blinked, took a breath and pushed the door open. The train moved off, and the sound lessened, just after the door scraped along the floor. I stepped inside to a sight that would give me nightmares for the rest of my life.

33 CJ

T

here was a shrill, blasting horn, and the sound of a train muffled my screams. Caleb dropped his full weight onto me. My bound hands jammed into the hard floor and my head thudded back. His hand struck my face, driving it into the wooden board. I’d bitten my lip, and my cheek against the hard floor stung. Tears blinded me further. He was shouting things, but with the loud drumming of the train, I couldn’t hear the full extent of the vulgarities flying from his mouth. But when he shifted his weight a little, I opened my eyes and saw him drag his bag closer. He reached inside and pulled something out. At first, I couldn’t see the object clearly, but then it flashed in the moonlight and I knew what it was. A large butcher knife. He dropped it to the floor and used both hands to grab my legs, trying to force them apart. I wrapped my ankles together, fighting him with the little strength I had left. He started hitting and kicking me again, and his crazed scream overtook the sound of the train. He slammed his fists on my chest and I gulped for air. He shoved his knee between my legs and I felt a slash at my hips and the ripping of my jeans. I couldn’t breathe and my muscles were limp. When I felt the blade at my neck, I was relieved. Maybe he’d just kill me and the terror would end. Just as the sounds of the train faded, something changed. I risked opening my eyes. Caleb was lying on me, and I couldn’t have moved my body even if I hadn’t been beaten and tied. His face was only inches away from mine, but he was looking up at the doorway. I tilted my head back and rolled my eyes to see better. A figure was standing in the moonlight.

34 SERENITY

“G

et off her, or you’re going to lose your head,” I said calmly. I couldn’t see Caleb’s expression in the dimness, but I heard his snarling laugh. In an athletic movement, he rolled into a sitting position, pulling CJ into his lap. He ducked behind her. Dammit. I took a slow, steady step into the room. I felt Daniel’s presence behind me, and sirens sounded in the distance, getting closer. With my gun still aimed, I said, “I got you, you son of bitch.” Caleb barked out a laugh. “It’s a game to you, isn’t it? Solving crimes, trying to figure out the minds of lunatics.” He snorted. “But I’m the one who won. Because I got away with killing those sweet Amish girls—and oh, were how sweet they were. Even if you kill me now, it won’t matter. I’m going to take this whore to hell with me. There isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.” Caleb didn’t sound like the same guy I remembered talking to in the pub. That charismatic young man I’d told I’d help get into law enforcement was a deranged psychopath killer. I used to scoff at Ted Bundy’s victims. How could anyone fall prey to a man because he was handsome and well-spoken? Now I felt guilty for those judgmental thoughts. I’d been tricked by the same type of individual, and it appeared CJ had as well. Calm settled over me. Caleb was wrong. I could do lots of things. “Where’s the paper rose, Caleb? You left ones inside Makayla and Hannah, and there was even one at Laura Grabill’s crime scene. Surely you wouldn’t forget that detail this time.” I could hear CJ’s wet breaths, but I ignored the sounds. I had to. Caleb’s hand moved and there was a shuffling sound. When he lifted a flower over CJ’s shoulder, its bright white purity stuck out like a beacon in the

darkened room. “What, are you talking about this little jewel? I hadn’t forgotten it. You just interrupted me.” The sirens were getting louder. Daniel was like a silent statue at my back. I was deliberating, deciding what to do, when I asked, “You managed to murder three women, and you’re about to add another, if what you say is true. I’m going to put a bullet in your brain. What would be the harm of you explaining the significance of the flower? It isn’t something you see every day.” Caleb made a hmm sound, but I still couldn’t get a clear shot. CJ was in the way, his arm pressed against her chin, holding her head back, her body shielding the rest of him. “I was told by a friend that it was a flower that would never die.” “Maryanna King told you that, didn’t she? You would have been close to the same age, and living here in Blood Rock when you were kids and your dad was driving the Amish.” “Ha, you figured something out. Good for you. But it’s not going to help your curly-haired friend. She’s going to die like the others. And believe me, when I leave this world, it will be worth it. The best orgasms I ever had were when I was cutting up those two girls.” My vision tunneled and my senses sharpened. “You lose, Sherriff Adams.” I only had a second of eye contact with CJ, before she bit down on Caleb’s arm. He rocked back when he yowled, giving me the few inches I needed to make the shot. I pressed the trigger.

35 CJ

T

he boom echoed in my head and wet matter splattered my shoulders. It dripped down my arms and I flopped over sideways to get away from it. Serenity’s hands were on me, cutting my binds, and wiping my skin with something she pulled from her pocket. Her fiancé was there and so was her deputy, although at the moment I couldn’t recall either man’s name. “Are you okay? Talk to me, CJ!” Serenity’s authoritative voice made some of the fuzz disappear from my head. I could suddenly taste the metallic, saltiness of Caleb’s blood in my mouth. I heaved. Serenity guided my head to the side and I threw up. “I’m all right,” I stuttered. I tried to say more, but Serenity quieted me with a finger to my lips. “Shhh, we’ll talk later. The paramedics are going to take you in the ambulance to the hospital. You’re going to be just fine.” She turned around and shouted, “Get Raymond and Beth in here, now!” Caleb’s form lay crumpled on the floor beside us, a mess around what was left of his head. I was all for getting the hell out, but I defied Serenity, grabbing her arm as she was about to stand, making space for the EMTs. “Thank you, Serenity. You came to…my rescue,” I said in between breaths. Serenity’s eyes moistened and she lost her composure. She nodded and wiped her eyes. “That’s what friends are for.” I laughed a little, but it hurt too badly and I abruptly quit. A few minutes later, I was on a gurney and out in the fresh nighttime air. I breathed as deeply as my damaged ribs would allow. I’d never take another breath for granted again. The sound of clip-clops on pavement raised my head, and I reached out to Serenity, swatting her arm as she moved with the gurney.

She followed my gaze. A lone buggy raced down the parking lot, pulled by a trotting horse. Serenity groaned. “Dammit, CJ. We need to get you to the hospital. You have serious injuries.” “Just a minute,” I forced out through my cracked lips. She rolled her eyes, but gave the EMTs instructions to stop and wait. I watched Joshua jump from the buggy just as the horse came to a stop. I blinked at the flashing lights as even more cop cars pulled into the lot. All the voices and noise disappeared when I saw Joshua’s face come into view. Serenity stepped aside to let him through. He took my hand as his wide eyes trailed over my face and body. My face was swollen, and I knew there would be bruises. I was covered in my own blood and Caleb’s brain matter. “I know, I look like crap,” I muttered. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “But you’re alive, and that’s all that matters.” “Thank you for coming,” I managed to say. The dizziness returned, causing me to see double of Joshua and everything else. He gently touched my forehead. “You’re very important to me, CJ. If you had died—” He took a little gulp and licked his lips. I smiled at him the best I could with my messed-up face. “Okay, that’s enough talk.” Serenity’s voice boomed as my eyes closed. “You best go home, Joshua. I’m riding to the hospital with her and I won’t leave her until the doctors tell me she’s fine. You can visit her in the morning, if your rules allow it.” The world was going dark around me and I welcomed the feeling of sleep pushing in, but even in my tattered state, I recognized the sarcasm in Serenity’s voice when she said the last part. Before my mind went completely dark, I heard Joseph respond, “I’ll be there no matter what they say.”

36 SERENITY

“T

hat was some shot, boss. I don’t think I could have done better, myself,” Todd said. Huddled in the hallway, we waited for the doctor and nurses to leave CJ alone. It had been a long night, but I had enough coffee pumping through me to kill an elephant. “I guess I channeled you, Todd.” He nodded, his usual smirk plastered on his face. “But if CJ hadn’t found the courage and strength to bite Caleb’s arm, it would have ended very differently.” I shivered and let the thought go. “Have you released Nicolas Swarey?” I was still uneasy about the man. His wife was missing and he had a violent temper. “No, not yet. The judge said something about getting him on fourth degree battery against Monroe for another incident where he hit his son with a stick. Maybe he’ll be ordered to anger management counseling,” Todd suggested. I let out a sigh. “It probably won’t help him, but it’s worth a try.” Todd turned to go, and I stopped him. “And keep looking for his wife. She’s bound to turn up eventually or we’re going to have another mystery on our hands.” “Sure thing, boss.” When I was alone with Bobby, I eyed the coroner, waiting for him to ask his questions. His straight back and shuffling feet said he had a bunch of them. “How did you figure out Caleb Johnson was the killer?” I waited until a couple of nurses had walked by before I answered him. “It was the damn roses. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t figure them out. They obviously meant something to the killer, and Nicolas Swarey wasn’t the type of man to have the patience or depth to fold papers to create roses. That part just didn’t make any sense to me.”

“You traced the roses to Caleb?” Bobby offered. He twirled the end of his mustache with his fingers. “The roses helped, but ultimately, the books led me the Amish driver.” Bobby’s brows rose. “Caleb Johnson had found a way to wiggle his way into the lives of those girls—with books. It’s really a shame when you think about it. Something as innocent as a Sunday afternoon romance novel led three young women to their deaths.” “It makes you wonder if their culture were more open about their reading material, the girls wouldn’t have had to sneak around behind their parents back to get reading material through their driver.” Bobby said. “Yeah. It makes you wonder,” I replied. “These cases were awful on so many levels, but I think the thing that bugs me the most is that I was completely taken in by Caleb. I was ready to charge Charlie Saunders with the crimes because he looked like a monster and Nicolas Swarey because he behaved in a way that we expect murderers to act. And then there’s Caleb Johnson. Handsome, good-natured and clever Caleb. He’d already murdered three people when I’d spoken to him in the pub, and I didn’t pick up on any bad vibes at all.” I crossed my arms. “I always thought I was a good judge of character.” “You are, Serenity, but sometimes you’re going to come across an individual who is better than you. Someone who really is pure evil. And I think with that kind of person, you’re doomed to lose.” I opened my mouth to interrupt him, but he held up his hand. “Because you have a good and noble heart, it’s impossible for you to see the truth—that evil is all around you. Sure, you accept it in your mind—” He tapped my chest. “—but in there, you don’t want to know.” I closed my mouth. This was a conversation better left to a slow day and lunch at the diner. “You better get to that paperwork, Bobby. You have a lot to do.” He snorted and shuffled away. “Yes, and don’t forget about your press conference in an hour.” I let out an irritated breath. Bobby knew just how to sour my mood. When the doctor came out of CJ’s room, I talked to him for a moment, and then peeked in on her. She smiled at me and I went to her bedside. “Are you feeling any better?” I asked, squeezing her hand. Nearly all of her face was black, blue and purple. One eye was swollen shut and her lips were inflamed and cracked. She wore a cast on one arm and her shoulder was bandaged. And those were only the parts of her body I could see. “My ribs are the worst. Doc says three of them are broken. My sister’s on

her way. She used to beat me up as kid, but now she wants to care for me.” She tried to shrug, but winced. “Guess life has come full circle.” “I wasn’t asking about your physical injuries, the doctor filled me in on those. They’ll heal in time. It’s the injuries we can’t see that I’m worried about.” I pushed a couple of stray curls back that had dropped into her swollen eye. “A women’s crisis counselor is supposed to visit me later today. I suppose a long string of shrinks will be in my immediate future.” Her strength was inspiring, but I knew that inside, she was a mess. No one would be the same after what she went through. She swallowed, looking uncomfortable, and then met my gaze with her one good eye. “I’ll probably have nightmares about it for the rest of my life. I’m so angry with myself for trusting Caleb. I should have known better. But I was in such an emotional state last night, I wasn’t thinking clearly.” “Don’t blame yourself. Caleb Johnson had me fooled, too. And as far as your emotional state, you had the presence of mind to bite down on that monster’s arm, giving me room for a shot. You saved yourself, CJ.” She tried to smile, and then sniffed. “I feel so bad for those girls. I know firsthand how scared they were and how they suffered, but one thing that makes me feel a little better is that we beat him in the end. I survived. It makes me think maybe someone was watching out for me, and guiding your hand on the trigger.” I held CJ’s unflinching gaze. If it made it easier for CJ to recover, thinking that way, then I was all for it. But I personally had to wonder, why wasn’t someone watching over those Amish girls, or any number of other victims I saw on a regular basis? Where was Naomi’s guardian angel when she’d been shot dead in that field, nearly a year ago? Questions only created more questions, and ultimately gave me a headache. For now, I was sticking to my theory that some people were just evil. That it wasn’t necessarily their upbringing, experiences or even genetics. And it didn’t have to do with the devil, demons or the morbid name of our town. Bad things happened everywhere, Blood Rock was no different, even for its bloody history of outlaws and mayhem. Perhaps someday I’d have clarity, but not today. The throat clearing at the doorway made me turn around. Joshua Miller had been true to his word. “May I talk to CJ?” he asked politely. I looked to CJ. Her attempt at a smile and shuffling to sit up gave me my answer. “I’ll be back this evening to check up on you,” I told CJ, and turned to Joshua, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t upset her.”

He nodded, meeting my gaze. When I went through the doorway, I couldn’t help pausing and standing to the side. I inclined my head to listen. There was some mumbling I couldn’t make out, and then I heard words I did understand. “I have good news, CJ. I met with the bishop this morning, and because of everything that’s happened to you, he’s decided to let you stay a while longer. He doesn’t want to force you out in your condition, and I think he even likes you a little, which is saying a lot for him.” A hand on my shoulder spun me around. Daniel grinned at me, and I shot him an annoyed look, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the doorway. He fell in step with me. “Were you eavesdropping?” Daniel teased. “Yes, I was. And I’m not ashamed to say so. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I’d have found out what I wanted to know.” “And what could you possibly be so curious about?” “Whether CJ is going to stay in Blood Rock, after all,” I said. When the sliding glass doors parted and we stepped out into the bright sunlight, I put on my sunglasses and kept walking. “Couldn’t you have just asked her that yourself?” “Sure, later, but I guess I couldn’t wait.” I looked sideways at Daniel. “It all depends on Joshua.” His brows rose and his mouth dropped open. “Joshua? Is there something going on between them?” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “You are so out of the loop. I’ll fill you in tonight, after I’ve had a very large glass of wine.” A smile spread on his face and butterflies erupted in my belly. I hated and loved the feeling. “Sounds like the perfect time to discuss a very important matter,” he said, still smiling boyishly at me. The butterflies were quickly replaced with tightness. I slowed my walk and dared another glance up. “What matter is that?” “A wedding, of course.” Look for the thrilling next book in Serenity’s Plain Secrets in 2018!