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Lancaster County Reckoning
Kit Wilkinson


PLAIN PROTECTORThe father Darcy Simmons thought was dead is actually alive, but in a coma, and the men who attacked him are after her to produce what he was hiding. But she hasn’t spoken to her father in twenty years, since he entered witness protection and became Amish, and has no clue what the criminals want. Now the only person she can depend on is Amish farmer Thomas Nolt, her father’s neighbor and closest friend. Thomas knows nothing of his friend’s past, but he’s determined to save the fragile beauty the man shielded all these years with his silence. But with men willing to kill for stolen items her father was hiding, can Thomas and Darcy find them before their time runs out?







PLAIN PROTECTOR

The father Darcy Simmons thought was dead is actually alive, but in a coma, and the men who attacked him are after her to produce what he was hiding. But she hasn’t spoken to her father in twenty years, since he entered witness protection and became Amish, and has no clue what the criminals want. Now the only person she can depend on is Amish farmer Thomas Nolt, her father’s neighbor and closest friend. Thomas knows nothing of his friend’s past, but he’s determined to save the fragile beauty the man shielded all these years with his silence. But with men willing to kill for stolen items her father was hiding, can Thomas and Darcy find them before their time runs out?


“For starters,” Thomas said. “Why don’t you tell me who you are?”

The woman wiped her tears, looked him dead in the eye and sighed. “I’m— Well, I’m Darcy Simmons and I’m—I’m Jesse’s daughter.”

Daughter? What? Jesse didn’t have any kin that Thomas had ever heard of. Jesse had always been all alone…

The woman—Darcy—had hardly gotten the words out when her fancy smartphone rang.

She looked at the phone and frowned. “I don’t know that number.”

Still, she touched the screen to accept the call and lifted the phone to her ear. She was so close that Thomas could hear every crazy word of the call. The oddly distorted voice filled the room.

“Oh, Darcy, honey, you’re just as lovely as your mother, but you do have your daddy’s eyes… And you also have something of mine. I’ll be coming around soon to get it back. You can either cooperate when I see you, or you can end up like your dear old dad. Either way, I get what’s mine. See you soon.”


Dear Reader (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b),

Thank you for reading a copy of Lancaster County Reckoning. I hope you enjoyed the story of Darcy and Thomas. I was so happy to finally write this story, because I have wanted to do so ever since I started the Willow Trace series. I fell in love the character Thomas Nolt when I was writing Plain Secrets and felt like he had to have his own happy ending after having been so good to Hannah in book one.

I dedicated this book to my father, who passed away suddenly while I was working on this book. He was a genius of a man who loved a good story and was a voracious reader. I will definitely miss all of his great advice and chatting to him about my writing.

This book is also dedicated to my oldest sister, who was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s a few years ago. She has spent most of her life taking care of other people, but now depends on others to take care of her. I wish a million blessings to those of you who take care of her—Greg, Charneise, Tamera, Cindy, Mom and my nieces and nephew.

If you or someone you love is suffering from Alzheimer’s, my prayers to you.

With all my love,

Kit


KIT WILKINSON lives in the heart of Central Virginia, where she works full-time as a French and English teacher and overtime as a mother of two. A graduate of the University of Virginia and the University of Tennessee, Kit loves to study, learn and read. She finds through writing she is able to do both with a purpose, while creating something new in the process. You can visit her website at www.kitwilkinson.com (http://www.kitwilkinson.com).


Lancaster County Reckoning

Kit Wilkinson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Behold, I stand at the door and knock.

If anyone hears my voice and opens the door,

I will come in to him and dine with him and he with me.

—Revelations 3:20


To Dad, thanks for sharing your love, most especially your love for story and books. I miss you.

And to my sister, Elizabeth, my biggest fan and most dear to my heart, the Lord shines through you still.


Contents

Cover (#uac333a5c-1158-53a3-8898-3a6afe23fc3d)

Back Cover Text (#u55e19ec4-119c-5bc9-b8ff-fe7418fd7343)

Introduction (#u9af19015-1dec-58c5-a490-30566e59a56c)

Dear Reader (#u6a057e22-5dd2-51f6-8b73-1c3b1d8130e8)

About the Author (#u9a4b062b-db67-544f-a82a-7f7427b0bcb1)

Title Page (#u384095a9-fd5f-50e4-a5cd-bd3f38723311)

Bible Verse (#u22b0829f-5229-5c7d-a8a6-d5b50b10f56d)

Dedication (#u7ba4f898-c092-5f09-b52c-8d079f873497)

ONE (#u871a044c-08a5-58ac-b6bd-23d3f294ba77)

TWO (#u68a391a0-092b-5ee5-a2cb-7f94f3a2b334)

THREE (#u0983ced4-c466-5d85-821c-51861f997fbf)

FOUR (#uc0f472c3-e87a-58f6-851a-2706171e70b0)

FIVE (#u99c5e2d6-ad6f-5196-a5a8-259e2269c4a3)

SIX (#u54640504-161a-502e-81cb-2cf23294e6e0)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b)

Thomas Nolt spotted the bright red car the second he entered the clearing. It made for such an odd sight on his neighbor’s land, in the middle of their Amish community, that he pulled up on the reins of his gelding. The sudden stop of the horse threw the weight of the satchel his grandmother Ruth had loaded up with baked goods and preserves for his “Uncle Jesse” against his back.

Not really an uncle but his close neighbor of twenty years and considered part of the Nolt family, Jesse Troyer had asked Thomas to come take a look at his well at lunch. So it seemed a bit odd that someone else was visiting at the same time. Not that it was unusual for Jesse to have any visitors, but most of his acquaintances drove the typical Amish horse and buggy—not cars. And certainly not a fancy, brightly colored automobile like this one.

To be sure, Jesse had not always been Amish. Thomas had been just a child when Jesse had joined their community twenty years earlier, but he remembered how hard the man had worked to embrace the plain life and leave his Englisch ways behind. Ever since, Jesse pretty much stuck to his friends in the Ordnung. He had never mentioned keeping in touch with anyone in the Englisch world.

Thomas wanted to tell himself that it was nothing to worry about. In all likelihood, the red car’s driver was a tourist who had gotten lost and had stopped at Jesse’s home for directions. Christmas was approaching and tourists seemed oddly fascinated by the simple, minimal decorations with which the Amish commemorated the holy season. Yes, there was surely nothing ominous about the appearance of the red car at all. And yet Thomas could not deny that he felt strangely unsettled.

His eyes moved over Jesse’s house, and he finally realized what seemed off. It was a cold December day with a biting wind...and yet no smoke rose from Jesse’s chimney. The old man was home. Jesse’s little bay-colored Morgan horse was enclosed in her paddock and his buggy was parked, as always, next to the house. So why hadn’t he lit a fire? An emotion washed over Thomas. It was a feeling deep in his gut—a feeling that something was wrong.

He nudged King into a gallop over the open field, only slowing when they’d reached the back of the house. Thomas dismounted with one smooth swing of his leg and rushed around to the front porch, where he came to a full, screeching halt.

“Who are ye?” The words flew out of his mouth before his brain could rephrase them into something more courteous. He took a slow step back as if he’d encountered a rattlesnake. It might as well have been seeing as what stood in front of him rattled his brain. It was a young woman. A young Englisch woman with modern clothes and styled hair and a face painted to a glossy fashion magazine’s idea of perfection. She was petite but looked agile and adept.

“Who are you?” she countered in a flat tone. She looked down at the bench and snatched up a fancy little handbag, which she stuck under her arm as if to keep it safe.

This was no tourist. If she was simply passing by, she would have assumed Thomas was the home’s owner, and would have launched into her explanation of where she was trying to go and how she’d gotten turned around. Her expression made it clear that she knew this wasn’t Thomas’s house. And that meant she was looking for Jesse specifically. But why? She looked at him with equal reservation. Tension exploded between them.

At least he belonged there. Thomas crossed his arms over his chest.

From the top of her coiffed head to the bottom of her designer boots, she looked as out of place as a chicken swimming in the river. “Are you lost, ma’am?” he asked, hoping he’d read her wrong. “I can tell you how to get back to the highway.”

“I’m not lost,” she retorted.

Thomas scratched his head. “Well, then, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t see what concern that is of yours.” Her voice was edgy.

His eyes locked on hers. “Well, I’m a neighbor of the folk that live here and I’ve never seen you before. I am just looking out for my neighbor.”

Thomas noticed that the front door had been cracked open. “Have you been inside, ma’am?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then why is the door opened?” Thomas didn’t mean to accuse her, but Jesse was a responsible man—he wouldn’t have left his door open like that. He would, however, have left his door unlocked. Doors were rarely bolted in their close-knit community and Jesse in particular was known to keep his home accessible. He was unbothered by visitors at any hour who wanted his help or to borrow a tool or simply to sit and share a cup of tea. If this woman had wanted to let herself in, she could have easily done so.

“The door was opened when I got here, which was about a minute before you did. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t even look in. I was just...” She stopped and pressed her glossed lips together. She shook her head and glanced at her watch. “I was just waiting for Jesse. We had an appointment. You don’t happen to know where Mr. Troyer is, do you?”

“Jesse was expecting you?” Thomas could feel the muscles in his face tightening. Why? Why would Jesse have a meeting with an Englisch woman? He wanted to ask but held that thought at bay. “I assume he is inside. Did you knock?”

“Of course I knocked.” She backed out of the way as he moved toward the front door. “Since the door was already opened, I thought maybe he stepped around back or something. I was going to go check when you arrived.”

“Jesse?” Thomas called.

He pushed the door open wide and stepped inside the small cottage. She followed him in as if she feared to be left by herself on the porch. Although what he found inside might have been worse. It was chaos. Everything inside had been turned upside down. Furniture toppled. Drawers emptied. Jesse’s belongings had been scattered from one end of the home to the other. Behind him, the tiny woman gasped and threw a hand over her gaping mouth.

“Ach! Had ye seen this?” he asked.

“No. I told you I didn’t go inside.” Her gray eyes were wide with alarm.

“And you’re alone? You came here alone?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was breathy and low. “Like I said, I just got here. I was supposed to meet Jesse at noon. I—I was a few minutes late. I knocked on the door and called inside. No one came, and then you were here.”

Thomas didn’t know whether or not to believe a word she was saying but the astonishment in her voice sounded genuine. “And you haven’t seen anyone coming or going?”

“Just you.” Her gaze flowed from one end of the room to the other, surveying the damage. “Whoever you are. You never told me your name.”

“You never told me yours.” Thomas unloaded the sack of food on his back. It landed with a clunk in the center of Jesse’s kitchen table. He looked back into the woman’s dark gray eyes. “I’m Thomas. Thomas Nolt. I live next door.”

She seemed to take that in for a long moment, avoiding eye contact. But that was typical. Being Amish, Thomas was used to Englisch people either staring for too long, or just the opposite—not wanting to make any eye contact.

He frowned at the scattered mess. Of course, break-ins did happen, even in Amish communities from time to time. But they were rare, and usually there were teenagers involved. Jesse was a sixty-year-old widower with no children. Not exactly a typical target for a teenage prank. And as for robbery as a motive, he had no electronics, no money, no jewelry.

The strange woman bit her upper lip nervously as she moved around some of the clutter and farther into the house. “Who do you think did this?”

“I was just wondering that my—”

A faint moaning sounded overhead from the loft.

There was someone else in the cottage. Thomas looked at the woman. “Stay here.”

Thomas raced up the back stairs. “Jesse? Is that you?”

The Englisch woman didn’t listen to him. She was on his heels, on the narrow staircase to the loft.

At the top of the stairs, Thomas paused. More chaos. The loft looked much like the downstairs. Completely trashed. He took a few wide steps over the debris and made his way to an odd-looking lump in the corner, from where he estimated the sound had originated. Jesse!

The old man lay in a heap on the floor. His face was swollen. His lips bloodied and bruised. Jesse had been beaten. And from the looks of it, nearly to death.

His wounds looked fresh and in some places were bleeding out. And worse, Jesse wasn’t moving. Thomas dropped down to his hands and knees and grabbed the old man’s hand. Thomas had seen men after fights a few times. He’d never seen anyone roughed up like this, as if the people who’d attacked him hadn’t cared whether he survived or not.

“It’s okay, Jesse. It’s Thomas. I’ve got you. Just rest. You’re going to be fine.”

The woman had slowly edged her way around the loft. She let out a horrible squeal as she saw Jesse on the ground. “Oh, no, no, no. Jesse. No.”

She dropped to the floor to get closer to the wounded man. Her body moved in waves of silent sobs.

“He’s not dead,” Thomas said, although he could barely detect the old man’s pulse. “Hang on, Jesse. Hang on. Help is here.” He looked to the woman. “You have a phone in that fancy bag of yours?”

Still crying, she scrambled through the little bag, plucking out a shiny smartphone. Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to try three times to enter her pass code to unlock the phone. For efficiency’s sake, Thomas grabbed it from her and called 911. He gave thorough directions to the dispatcher. He also asked him to notify the local clinic, which was even closer than the fire department and the EMS. He hoped they would make it in time.

As he spoke, the Englisch woman placed a small pillow under Jesse’s head and a blanket over his torso. She touched Jesse’s hand and whispered something low into his ear. Who was she?

He held the phone out for her to retrieve. Thomas’s own hands were trembling, too. It was all he could do to control his emotions. He was filled with a mixture of horror and anger. What had happened? Who would do such a thing to a kind man like Jesse? And why?

He looked at the woman, wondering if her sudden and strange appearance had anything to do with the beating Jesse had taken. Thomas sighed aloud. He had to refocus his thoughts.

He had to remind himself that God was in control. His anger would solve nothing and it certainly wouldn’t save Jesse, which should be his only concern at the moment.

The woman took the smartphone from his hand. “How long will it take someone to get here? Maybe you should carry him to my car? I can get to a hospital faster than waiting for an ambulance. Right?”

“Wrong.”

“What?” She looked back at him with surprise. “Of course that would be faster.”

“Maybe faster but not better. He may have broken bones that need to be stabilized before he can be moved. I don’t want to cause any more damage than has already happened. I’m not moving him.”

“Right. Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She stood back and put her hand to her forehead. She was trembling like a leaf. “But what can we do? We have to help him.”

We? Thomas took off his hat and put it back on his head. It was something he did when his thoughts or emotions were getting away with him. A little trick his father had told him about when he was very young that reminded him to take a deep breath and pull himself together.

“For starters,” he said, “why don’t you tell me who you are.”

The woman wiped her tears and swept her bangs carefully away from her face. At first, Thomas thought she hadn’t heard him or was once again avoiding an answer. But then she looked him dead in the eye and sighed. “I’m...well, I’m Darcy Simmons and I’m—I’m Jesse’s daughter.”

Daughter? What? Jesse didn’t have any kin that Thomas had ever heard of. Yes, he’d been married. But that had been years ago. In fact, his wife had died before Jesse had moved to Willow Trace. Jesse had always been all alone...

The woman—Darcy—had hardly gotten the words out when her fancy smartphone rang out a series of loud beeps that was apparently her ringtone.

She looked at the phone and frowned. “I don’t know that number.”

Still, she touched the screen to accept the call and lifted the phone to her ear. She was so close that Thomas could hear every crazy word of the call. The oddly distorted voice filled the room.

“Oh, Darcy, honey, you’re just as lovely as your mother, but you do have your daddy’s eyes... And you also have something of mine. I’ll be coming around soon to get it back. You can either cooperate when I see you, or you can end up like your dear old dad. Either way, I get what’s mine. See you soon.”

The phone slipped from the woman’s hand. Her head dropped back and her eyes fluttered as her legs collapsed under her and she fell toward the floor.


TWO (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b)

The giant Amish man caught Darcy under the arms just before she hit the floor.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She still felt light-headed and shaky, but she was able to straighten her legs and stand on her own...mostly.

Thomas backed away quickly, as if touching her had stung his hands. “What was that about? That phone call?”

“I have no idea. I told you I don’t know that number.” Darcy’s head swirled. “I have no idea who that was or what he was talking about. The voice didn’t even sound real. It was more like he was using some kind of distorter.”

Thomas frowned down at her, his face darkening with suspicion. “But you are Jesse’s daughter?”

She nodded. “But no one knows that. I only just found out myself.”

The Amish man shook his head up and down as if he understood her words, but Darcy felt like he didn’t believe her. She could hardly blame him. She had trouble believing it herself. After years of being told her father was dead, it had been a shock to have Jesse contact her.

“Okay. Let’s just concentrate on Uncle Jesse,” he said.

“He’s your uncle?” Did that mean this man was her cousin?

“No, but lots of people call him that around here. When I was a kid, he didn’t like us calling him Mister.”

“Oh.” Darcy tried to slow down her breathing. It was hard to imagine this massive, intimidating man had ever been a child.

She’d rarely seen such an imposing figure, so tall and strong, dressed in black trousers and a green button-down. Dark curls spilled out from under his hat and his beard—if you could call it one—was made of thin, sparse stubble, shaved clean to the edges of his broad face. No mustache—which she had heard was the Amish way. His wide brown eyes had golden flecks around the pupils, which seemed to pulse as he stared down at her. He was a Goliath of a man, one continuous string of muscle. If he had been around earlier, whenever the attack had taken place, she doubted anyone would have touched Jesse.

Poor Jesse. She knelt beside him and held his hand. Thomas sat opposite, his eyes closed. She guessed that he was praying as she saw his lips move in silent speech from time to time. She was thankful he asked her no more questions.

And he’d been right. It wasn’t long before help arrived. The EMS workers quickly strapped Jesse on a gurney and started him on fluids. She and Thomas followed the gurney to the ambulance, and watched as it was loaded inside.

On the one hand, she was thankful for Thomas’s presence and his ability to answer questions she couldn’t—about any medical conditions Jesse had and whether he was allergic to any medications. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help resenting him just a little for knowing her own father so much better than she did herself.

When the ambulance was ready to drive away, she and Thomas looked at each other.

“I’m going to follow. You want a ride with me?” she asked.

“Are you sure?” he said hesitantly.

Was he kidding? After that phone call, she wasn’t exactly keen on being alone. She nodded.

Soon, they were at the hospital. The hours blurred together as they waited for news on Jesse’s condition.

Small groups of Amish men and women came through the waiting area. They would talk quietly with Thomas, glance her way once or twice then leave. Thomas stayed on one side of the room. She chose to sit at the other side. She didn’t want to talk or meet more Amish people. She didn’t want to explain who she was or why she was there.

And certainly she didn’t want to talk about the phone call. She didn’t even want to think about it. That hard robotic voice and the person who, unaccountably, knew her. Knew who she was. And knew her connection to Jesse. Someone who, if they really were connected to the attack against Jesse as they’d implied, had almost killed her father. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine.

She shook away the terrifying thoughts. Right now she just wanted some news about her father. Was he going to live? Was she going to find out why everyone had lied to her for so many years? Or was Jesse going to leave her almost as quickly as he had come back into her life?

“I’m going to get a coffee. Could I get you one?” Thomas stood over her. His long dark curls, freed from his black felt hat, which he twisted nervously in his hands, sprung around his tanned face.

“Sure.” Darcy reached in her bag for money.

“No. It’s on me,” he said. “But why don’t you come down to the cafeteria with me? It will be good to sit in a different seat for a few minutes.”

He hadn’t seemed interested in talking to her in the hours up to now. Why the change? Realization struck as she recalled watching him speak quietly to a doctor at the end of the hall a few minutes earlier.

“You’ve had news?” Darcy stood so quickly her head felt light.

Instead of answering, Thomas nodded toward the elevator bank. She followed him out of the waiting area, into the elevator, then down the hall to the cafeteria. She wanted news of Jesse. Even if it meant talking to this stranger.

“Thank you for the ride to the hospital,” he said, handing her a hot cup.

“Of course,” she said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

They sat opposite each other at one of the cafeteria tables. Darcy stared into the black liquid, watching steam swirl up from the cup. She took a drink. It was bitter and stale, and as it hit her stomach, she was reminded that she’d skipped breakfast and hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch.

“So, how is he?” she asked at last. She had a feeling that the news wasn’t going to be good or he would have already told her.

“They are operating on him.” Thomas’s voice was quiet and strained with emotion. “But...apparently there’s some internal bleeding and they are having a hard time stopping it.”

“So what does that mean?”

“They are going to try another procedure. If it works, it will stabilize his condition.”

“And if not?”

“If it doesn’t work...then they don’t expect him to live through the night.”

“What?” Darcy had not expected good news but she hadn’t expected anything as bad as this. “That can’t be. There must be something we can do. Maybe we need a second opinion?”

She pushed away from the table, fighting tears of rage and fear. Thomas grabbed her gently by the wrist. His hand felt strong and warm as he pulled her back to her seat.

“Dr. Jamison is one of the best ER doctors in the Northeast. He and his team are doing all they can. It’s in God’s hands.”

Seemed more like Jesse was in this doctor’s hands, not God’s. And she wondered why one of the best doctors would be working all the way out here. But she couldn’t muster the energy to ask.

Darcy slumped back into the chair. She felt so out of place and helpless. And confused. It wasn’t like her at all. “It’s just that... I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I just found out my father has actually been alive all this time and now he’s...well, beaten almost to death. I just wish there was something I could do to help. And yet, I don’t even know if it’s my place to help or if Jesse would even want me to.”

“It’s okay. It will all get sorted out. These things take time. The doctors are doing everything they can to save him. Plus, I know Jesse pretty well and I can tell you for sure and certain that he is a very strong man.”

“I just hate doing nothing. Just sitting here and waiting.”

“Well, there is something you can do. Something we all can do.”

“What’s that?” She lifted her head.

“We can pray.”

“Oh.” Pray? Really? Darcy looked away and tried to keep her facial expression neutral. It wasn’t that she thought praying was stupid. It just wasn’t for her. “Of course... I guess I was thinking of doing something more active and practical, maybe, like finding who did this to him.”

“Ja, well, one thing at a time. Plus, I’m sure the police have been notified about the beating. They will look for whoever is responsible. There is no need for us to go anywhere until Jesse’s condition is stable.” There was a lovely lilt to his voice. He had a faint accent that she hadn’t noticed before. “If Jesse were awake, he would be praying. That I am sure of. But you would know that, of course, since you’re his daughter, ja?”

Darcy swallowed hard. She put her elbows on the table and surrounded the warm cup of coffee with her hands. “I only met Jesse a few weeks ago. And we mostly talked about me.” She regretted that now.

“But you are his daughter?” He stared out at her from under a wisp of dark curls. He tilted his head, focusing hard on her face. “Truly Jesse Troyer’s daughter?”

Strange emotions flowed through her. “I’m afraid so. And I understand your surprise.”

He grinned, revealing a beautiful set of white teeth. “Ja, it is a surprise. But truly, if I hadn’t known Jesse for the past twenty years, I would not question ye so many times. You have his eyes, for certain.”

In spite of herself, Darcy smiled a little, remembering meeting Jesse for the first time and feeling that shock of recognition when faced with those unusual dark gray eyes she’d seen in the mirror every day of her life.

“But it is just that, well...he never mentioned you,” Thomas said.

“No one ever mentioned him to me, either.” Darcy rubbed her temples, thinking back to when she’d first met Jesse at the coffeehouse just a few weeks ago. “I grew up with my grandparents—my mother’s parents—in northern Virginia. I was told my parents had both died in a car accident right after I was born. There were newspaper articles and everything, showing the crash. Turns out half of it was a lie. The crash did kill my mother...but my father was alive all along.

“I mean, I don’t have any legal documents to show you as proof of paternity. Jesse talked about getting them if I wanted him to. But at this point I wasn’t really sure where this whole thing was going. And anyway, he had proof enough for me—pictures of me as a baby. And pictures of my mother. Pictures of the three of us together. And he had this locket. My mother’s locket. She always wore it. It’s around her neck in almost every picture I’ve ever seen of her.”

Darcy lifted the beautiful silver necklace off her collarbone to show him. Thomas looked at the locket then turned away. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Whether he believed her or not. His stoic face hid his emotions. Calm strength was all he allowed her to see. But she didn’t really care what he thought of the situation. Thomas was just a neighbor. She was Jesse’s daughter, his own flesh and blood.

After a long moment of silence, Thomas looked back at her with faraway eyes that were hazy with sadness. “Jesse did talk about your mother. He spoke of her often to me.”

“Yes, my grandparents talked about her all the time. She was amazing,” Darcy said, thinking of all the comparisons they’d made when raising her. Comparisons she’d never lived up to.

Thomas sighed. “So how did you find out? How did you and Jesse meet?”

“Jesse wrote to me.” She smiled. “An old-fashioned letter. He told me who he was and he sent some pictures. One of them was a picture I had seen before in my mother’s things.”

“That must have been strange.”

“Yes, at first. But then I became curious. I asked my grandparents about it. About him.” A sharp pain stabbed at her heart. “But they wouldn’t tell me anything, except that my mother was dead and that it was his fault. They told me if I wanted to go down that road of getting to know my father, that I would have to do it alone.”

“I am truly sorry.” Thomas’s eyebrows pressed together, his brown eyes examining her carefully. “Family... Well, we should always be able to count on family.”

“It’s okay. My grandparents have always been a little...different.” Cold. “But actually what they said only confirmed to me that Jesse was telling the truth. So I met with him. And when I saw him, I knew. Jesse is definitely my father. I just wish...” I’d known about him...

Tears started to well in her eyes. Thomas reached across the table and patted her hand.

“Hey, now, I am certain that he had a reason for not getting in touch with you sooner. And if I know Jesse, and I think I do, then he had a very, very gut reason.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze, then slid his hand back to his side of the table. “Jesse—your father—is a gut man. A man of God. And he is strong. I am praying that God will let him stay with us a bit longer. We cannot change the past, but you can still have a future together as father and daughter.”

The tears started to spill over. Darcy tried to hold them back. She didn’t want to cry in front of this stranger. She covered her face with her hands.

Thomas stood. “We should go back now. The police will probably be here soon.”

Darcy felt the blood drain from her face. She did not want to talk to the police. She couldn’t imagine that she knew anything which would be helpful. And what if no one believed that she was Jesse’s daughter? “Oh...but I don’t know what to say to them...like I told you I don’t have any real proof that he’s my father.”

“It is going to be okay, Darcy. Just tell them what you told me.”

“Do they know about the phone call?”

“I haven’t spoken with them yet. But I hope you plan to tell them. It may help them find out who did this. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course it’s what I want. But how can I explain what the man said to me? Not to mention, no one really knows I’m Jesse’s daughter. What if Jesse doesn’t want anyone to know?”

“I don’t think you can keep being Jesse’s daughter a secret any longer.” He smiled. “You have nothing to fear from Jesse’s friends. I know that much. Which makes me wonder why—”

“Why he kept it a secret?” she said, finishing the question for him. “I don’t know. It’s not a topic you just jump right into the first time you meet your father.”

And now he might die and she would never know.

Darcy closed her eyes. Thomas was right. There was no escaping her identity any longer. She was the daughter of a man who had been attacked for hiding something. And the man who had committed—or commissioned—the attack was now after her, unless she turned over something she knew nothing about. It was all so cryptic and horrifying. She didn’t know what they wanted and if Jesse didn’t wake up and give it to them then...

What did they have planned for her?


THREE (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b)

“Chief McClendon.” Thomas shook hands with the Lancaster head of police. They had met before during another stressful time in Thomas’s life, when his own niece had been murdered. And while most Amish didn’t have much to do with government or law enforcement agencies of any sort, Thomas had a healthy respect for the chief. McClendon had always kept his family’s confidences and respected their boundaries. Right now, Thomas had a sense that the chief would be helping him again through whatever was going on with Jesse and Jesse’s long-lost daughter.

“This is Darcy Simmons.” Thomas moved his eyes quickly between her and McClendon. “And she is...well, she is Jesse Troyer’s daughter.”

“Oh.” McClendon turned to Darcy, taking in her fancy clothes. “I guess you left the fold.”

Darcy looked taken aback.

“She was not born or raised Amish,” Thomas answered for her. “Jesse came to the Ordnung later in life.”

“Oh, I see.” McClendon frowned. “So I understand Mr. Troyer was badly beaten?”

“We hope he will pull through, but it’s too early to know his status for certain,” Thomas replied quickly, wanting to keep Darcy focused on the positive.

She looked well past the point of exhaustion. Her hands shook. Her eyes were swollen. She seemed so horribly...alone.

“I’ll need to ask you a few questions about your...well, about Jesse,” McClendon said to Darcy. “And about what happened earlier today.”

She nodded.

“You add in anything in that might be helpful,” McClendon said to Thomas. “I understand you were both there?”

“I arrived first,” Darcy said, explaining how she and Jesse had planned for her to come at noon. “When I got there no one answered at the door, and I noticed it was cracked open. Then Thomas came. We went in together and found that someone had torn the place apart. Then we discovered Jesse upstairs on the floor. Thomas called 911. And then—then I got this strange phone call.”

Thomas exhaled a sigh of relief, pleased that she’d overcome her hesitation and decided to share the truth with the police chief.

“How do you mean, strange?” McClendon asked.

Darcy quoted the caller verbatim. McClendon scratched his head. “And you have no idea who would have sent you a threatening message?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“You didn’t recognize the voice?”

“It was modified. Computerized. It didn’t sound natural.”

“Did either of you see anyone coming or going from the area around the house?”

They both shook their heads.

“Did you see anything unusual or missing?”

“It was impossible to tell. The place was wrecked.”

“Right. We sent a team over to Mr. Troyer’s place to investigate. But they won’t know what or if anything is missing. Then again, based on this phone call you’re telling me about, it seems likely that the caller didn’t find what he wanted at Jesse’s home.”

Thomas nodded. That made sense. Whatever the man from the phone call was after, he’d probably tried to get Jesse to reveal where it was first. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried searching the house for it himself. When that failed, he’d threatened Darcy. But how had he known about Darcy? That was still a puzzle.

“So, you’re from Philadelphia?” McClendon asked her.

“Originally, I’m from Virginia. But I’ve lived in the Philadelphia area since college. I work as a buyer for Winnefords department store.”

“You live alone?”

She nodded. “I have a small town house in the suburbs.”

“You work in the city?”

“Mostly. I travel to New York a lot.”

McClendon flipped through his notes. “Now, what was your relationship with your father?”

“We...didn’t have a relationship until recently.”

The chief looked up at that. “None at all? Was it a custody issue?”

“No, it was... To be honest, I’m not really sure what it was. I was raised by my mother’s parents. They blamed Jesse for my mother’s death, so maybe that’s why they told me my father had died when I was a baby. They didn’t want anything to do with him.”

“And when did you find out the truth?”

“About a month ago. Jesse sent me a letter, and we met for the first time a week later.”

“Did you tell anyone that you were coming to Willow Trace today? Did anyone of your acquaintance know about Jesse and your recent discovery that he is your father?”

“No. No one knew I was coming. Only Jesse. And I hadn’t told anyone about him contacting me, other than my grandparents. But they didn’t want to discuss it.”

McClendon looked to Thomas, who hoped the questions were nearly over. Darcy looked ready to collapse.

“She’s told you everything as it happened,” Thomas said, hoping to head off any more questions.

“Has she?” the chief asked. “So you can confirm what she’s said about the letter and meeting with Jesse? He told you about his daughter?”

Thomas flushed. “Well...no, actually, today was the first I heard of it.”

“Do you consider yourself close to Mr. Troyer?”

“Ja, of course. We have been neighbors for twenty years.”

“And he never mentioned a daughter? Not even in the past few weeks?”

“No,” Thomas admitted. “He has spoken of his wife and I knew she had died, but there was never mention of a daughter.” Thomas couldn’t deny that the situation was strange. There were so many things that didn’t make sense. And the only people with answers were the threatening man from the phone call and Jesse, who might never wake up again.

But Thomas believed that Darcy was being honest with them. Her shock and horror at Jesse’s attack had been real. And so was her fear at the phone call.

“It must be related—the beating and the phone call,” Thomas said. “Don’t you think? It was almost like the caller was watching us. Like he knew exactly when to call.”

“So what’s your theory on why anyone would want to beat up a nice Amish man and threaten his daughter?” McClendon asked.

Thomas shook his head slightly. For that he had no answer. “I cannot even imagine who would want to hurt Jesse. He’s just a sweet old Amish fellow who minds his own business.”

“You said he’s been your neighbor for twenty years. Where did he live before?”

Thomas took off his hat and scratched his head. “I don’t recall. That would be a question for the bishop.”

Could all this be tied to Jesse’s past? Jesse’s life before he came to Willow Trace? But that was so long ago. Even if he had enemies from decades in the past, why would they come to trouble him now?

Thomas shifted his weight and kept one eye on the door. He was on the lookout for his friend Elijah. Earlier he had asked the ER staff to notify not only the bishop and leader of the Ordnung about the beating, but also his friend, who had spent many years in the Englisch world working as a police detective before returning to his Amish roots. Thomas hoped Elijah’s experience with police investigations could help them.

McClendon continued questioning Darcy. “Do you give the police permission to track your incoming phone calls? In the case this happens again?”

“Of course. You can have my phone if that helps you find whoever did this to Jesse,” she said, handing over her phone.

Thomas saw Elijah Miller enter through the waiting room doors and walked over to greet him. He met his good friend with a hearty handshake. “Are you a sight for sore eyes. Here. Come. McClendon is speaking to her.”

“Chief,” Elijah said as they joined Darcy and McClendon. “And you must be Miss Simmons. The whole Ordnung is praying for Jesse. And I’m here to help in any way I can.”

Darcy seemed confused as she looked over Elijah and took in his Amish dress but somewhat Englisch mannerisms and speech, which Thomas had learned that his friend could turn on and off depending on what the situation might call for.

“Eli is a former detective,” Thomas explained.

“Well, I’m just a farmer now, Miss Simmons. But I worked for ten years on the force in Philly, before coming back home,” he said.

Darcy nodded.

“I just came from the cottage,” Elijah said. “There was a team of investigators. So far, they seem to have no leads on who attacked Jesse. Jesse lived plain. Very plain. There was nothing in his home that anyone would want to steal. But there was a business card with Miss Simmons’s personal information and number. We found that on the floor with a few papers and some old pictures.”

“Well, that could be how they got your number,” McClendon said, turning to Darcy. “But that doesn’t explain how they would know you’re Jesse’s daughter.”

“There was a letter there from Darcy,” Elijah said. “I didn’t read it. I think it was marked into evidence with the photos.”

“Photos?” Thomas repeated. “I can’t imagine Jesse having photos. It’s verboten.”

“Forbidden,” Elijah said, translating. “But if they were his only tie to his daughter for all these years maybe he kept them anyway. Or maybe he just got them recently.”

Still, pictures? Thomas’s head spun with doubts and confusion. This did not sound like the Jesse that he knew.

“In the morning,” Elijah continued, “a few of us are planning to meet up at Jesse’s and help put the place back together. It’s quite a mess.”

“I’ll be there.” Thomas shook Elijah’s hand.

“Miss Simmons—” Elijah tipped his hat “—I hope you hear some good news very soon.”

“Thank you.” Darcy nodded and finished up answering a few more questions from the chief.

Thomas walked Elijah from the waiting area.

“Thank you for coming.” He shook his friend’s hand. “It is gut to have someone who can help us make sense of these things. Not that I can see any sense in the harm that was done to Jesse. He was really beat up. And you heard about the phone call to Darcy?”

“No.” Eli looked grim. “What phone call?”

Thomas filled Elijah in on every detail. “If only Jesse could tell us what this is all about.”

“I think Darcy should take that threat seriously after what happened to Jesse. But what could Jesse have that would be worth nearly killing him over?”

“That is what I keep asking myself over and over,” Thomas said. “Do you remember when Jesse moved here? You and I wanted to go to his cottage every day after chores and play baseball or lawn croquet.”

“I remember.” Elijah laughed then stopped abruptly.

“Do you remember if he ever said where he came from?”

“No. I don’t guess I ever really thought about it too much. He always just fit in. Like he’d been here forever.”

“But he wasn’t,” Thomas said. “And he’s got a full-grown Englisch daughter to prove it.”

“Maybe the Elders know. They must know something about his past from when they accepted him in to the Ordnung. I could ask my father.”

“Would you? But would he even be able to tell you anything?” Thomas wondered if that was the right thing to do. “I mean it’s one thing for us to know he has a daughter. It’s another for us to know the whole story behind their past and their separation.”

“I’m sure if Jesse thought that his daughter was in danger, he’d want us to help, no?” Elijah patted him on the back. “And we can help a lot more if we know more.”

“But if we interfere then are we leaving it up to God?”

“God will work through all of us. We will either get the answers or we won’t.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at the cottage at noon tomorrow.”

Elijah smiled. “All will be well.”

All will be well. In God’s time.

Thomas returned to the waiting room. McClendon had gone. Darcy had reseated herself on the other side of the room and did not look as if she wanted company. He could respect that. She had gone through a lot in one day. He imagined Darcy was barely holding it together.

Thomas slumped down into a seat that he decided looked the least uncomfortable. He lowered his hat over his eyes and let his chin rest on his chest.

Secret daughter? Jesse attacked and left for dead? Threats that he has something that belonged to someone else? Thomas just couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was as if the Jesse he’d always known was someone else entirely. Images of Jesse swam in Thomas’s head as he drifted off to sleep...

* * *

“Hey, man, wake up.”

Thomas sat up fast. There was a horrible pain in his back and neck. Dr. Blake Jamison of the ER stood over him, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. Thomas checked the clock on the wall.

“Seven thirty?” He stood and rubbed his neck. “Last I saw, it was midnight. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Glad somebody did.” Blake glanced over toward Darcy. “Is that Jesse’s daughter? I have news.”

“Ja. Come.” Thomas shook the ache from his stiff bones and led his doctor friend across the large waiting area. He hoped and prayed that Blake had good news.

“Darcy, this is Dr. Jamison.” Thomas cleared the sleep from his voice. “Blake is the head of the ER here. He’s been with Jesse.”

A brief smile brushed over Darcy’s lips. The lipstick had worn away and her lips were no longer stained with color. Plain and unpainted, they looked even lovelier to him than before. She shook hands with Blake. “So, how is Jesse?”

Blake rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his scruffy stubble. It was clear he’d been at work for hours. “Well, he’s still with us. He made it through the night. The last procedure seemed to stop the rest of the internal bleeding.”

Thomas let out a sigh of relief.

“I get the sense that you led with the good news,” Darcy said shrewdly.

Blake gave her a tired smile. “You’d be right. I’m afraid not all of my news is good.”

“So what is the bad news?” she asked.

“Jesse has slipped into a coma.”


FOUR (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b)

A coma? Thomas was thankful Jesse had lived. But for Darcy’s sake, and for the sake of Jesse’s continued safety, he sure wished he could ask his old neighbor a few questions. From the look of disappointment on Darcy’s face, Thomas guessed she was thinking the same thing. How were they going to get to the bottom of this without Jesse’s help?

“A coma?” Darcy repeated. “How long will that last?”

“I can’t say,” Blake answered. “But this can happen when recovering from such trauma to the brain. In many cases, the patient is able to eventually make a full recovery.”

“So he will wake up?”

“I can’t make any promises, but we certainly hope so. There’s a very good chance, and many of his indicators look positive. Still, he won’t be out of the woods completely even after waking up. There was a lot of hemorrhaging and we won’t be able to gauge the full extent of the damage until we can communicate with him.” Blake looked at Thomas.

“So...what? What does that mean?” Darcy dropped her arms by her sides, demanding the rest of the news.

“There is always some potential for brain damage. He may end up losing some or all of his cognitive and motor skills, and it’s very possible his memory will be affected.”

“So he won’t remember who he is? He won’t remember me? Or Thomas?”

“Every case is different,” Blake said, trying to console her. But Thomas knew what Blake was really saying was that he had no idea what was going to happen to Jesse. And Thomas could see Darcy’s tiny light of hope extinguishing. He couldn’t imagine how she felt, reconnecting with her father after all of these years only to run the risk of losing him again so soon.

“Doctors have to tell you all of the possibilities,” Thomas said, trying to sound casual. “It doesn’t mean that’s what will happen. God will decide what will happen to Jesse.”

“So you’ve said.” Darcy’s expression soured. “But isn’t there anything you can do medically to help him heal faster or better? To wake him from the coma?”

“Unfortunately no,” Blake said. “His body is already doing what it needs. It’s trying to heal, to live. He’s breathing on his own. We just have to wait now.”

“So he stays here? In this hospital? Can I move him to a hospital in the city? Closer to me?”

“Moving him right now...” Blake shook his head. “Well, that could set on a temporary decline in body function and when he’s already functioning at the lowest level, that would be taking a very unnecessary risk. We should avoid anything that would stress or strain his system more.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course you can,” he said. “Anytime you like.”

Darcy nodded. “How about now?”

“He’s in the ICU,” Blake said. “Room 11.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She started toward the door, but turned back to them. “Thomas, may I join you and your friends at Jesse’s later today? I’d like to help clean up.”

“You would be most welcome,” Thomas answered with a nod.

Blake and Thomas watched her move away toward the elevators.

“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Blake put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

“I was going to say the same to you.” Thomas tried to muster a smile but the heaviness on his heart wouldn’t allow it. “You are working yourself too hard, Blake, but thank you. Thank you for fighting so hard for my friend. I know you are doing all you can to help Jesse.”

“He’s a tough old bird,” Blake said. “But he was beaten up like I’ve rarely seen. And I’ve seen more than a fair share of beatings working in the ER.”

Thomas shut his eyes as he thought of the state they had found the old man in. The pain he must have been in. At least now Jesse could not feel the pain. He could be thankful to God for that.

“It’s good you found him when you did,” Blake continued. “Without blood and other fluids, I don’t think he would have lasted much longer...”

“Then he must live,” said Thomas. “And I pray that he does. Even apart from his value to the community and to me, it would be so sad for his daughter to lose him now, when she only just found him again.”

Blake’s eyes looked intrigued under the shadow of exhaustion. “What do you think of Miss Simmons?”

Darcy Simmons? Heat rose to Thomas’s cheeks as he remembered the feel of her soft hand and the way her long brown waves framed her sweet face. “I—I think she is scared and confused. And...I think she is in a lot of danger.”

* * *

Darcy stayed with Jesse for most of the morning. He looked so small and weak and old, lying there lifeless in the hospital bed, with tubes running in and out of him. The nurses said he was blessed to be alive. But he hardly looked it.

She wished he would wake up. She had so many questions. She no longer believed anything her grandparents had told her as a child about her parents. Was her mother really killed in a car crash? Why had Jesse started a life with the Amish? It was clear from all the photos of the past that Jesse had not been born Amish. Why hadn’t he stayed in the non-Amish world and raised her? Or at least taken her with him?

There had to be reasons for his choices. There had to be something that caused him to choose this path—a path that had not included her in his life. She tried not to let her questions and confusion cause anger toward her grandparents. But it was hard not to feel betrayed by them and all the lies. She’d probably be upset with Jesse, too, except that he looked so helpless lying there all but lifeless in the hospital bed.

Please wake up, Jesse. Please tell me what happened. Tell me who did this to you and what they want.

Darcy hated to leave Jesse but she was determined to get to the cottage and help clean up. Maybe, just maybe, there would be something there that would tell her more about her father—or at least give her a clue as to who was after him. And now her.

Darcy called a close friend and colleague who was kind enough to use a spare key to her town house and deliver a change of clothes and her makeup bag to the hospital. After breakfast, Darcy felt revived with a clean suit, fresh makeup and some food in her belly. She headed out to Willow Trace, driving through the beautiful back roads of Lancaster County. Her friend had asked her lots of questions when dropping off the clothes, which Darcy had answered merely by saying that a close family member was in a coma and she’d be away from work until further notice. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be long. Funny, though, she thought as she passed an Amish man driving a horse-drawn buggy that was moving at a snail’s pace compared to her, how time seemed to move slower here. Even with all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

When Darcy drove up in front of the cottage, there were already several Amish buggies parked in front. And there was Thomas. He was seated on the front porch, head down, a large book in his hand.

“Good morning,” she said.

He looked up at her. “Good day, Miss Simmons. You look all cleaned up and fancy.”

Heat rose to Darcy’s cheeks. She looked down at her designer suit. “I guess it’s a little dressy for cleaning.”

“We are just finishing up,” Thomas said. “It is time for lunch.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I should have come earlier.” Darcy was truly disappointed. She had really wanted to help. She had wanted to be a part of this. She had wanted to see Jesse’s home and feel closer to him and his friends. The wave of emotions made Darcy shift her weight over her heels. Life had taught her that depending on anyone made her vulnerable to getting hurt. She couldn’t allow herself to get attached to Thomas or the others in this community just because they were being kind. Maybe she should have just stayed at the hospital.

Thomas stood, folding the book closed. A Bible, from the looks of it, which he tucked under his elbow. “Come. There are people who would like to meet you.”

She followed him into the small living space, which was all tidied up. There were two women inside, along with Elijah, Thomas’s friend whom she had met at the hospital, and one other elderly man. All of them were Amish.

The two women were dressed similarly in homespun dresses, dark aprons and thin white caps set over their hair, which was parted straight down the middle, then tucked up and hidden away in a tight nest on the back of the neck. Darcy felt awkward in her stylish pantsuit and heels. But the ladies didn’t seem to pay her or her clothes any mind. They were all smiles, happily humming as they finished their work.

“Miss Simmons, how is Jesse?” Elijah asked as he approached her. “Any change?”

“No,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “Though that’s not necessarily a sign of trouble. Dr. Jamison said he didn’t expect there would be any change today. And he is stable. So that is good.”

“We will hold a prayer gathering for him,” the older of the women said as she turned to her. She was completely gray headed but had the same warm golden-brown eyes as Thomas. “I am Nana Ruth, Thomas’s grandmother. You must be Miss Darcy. I think it is wunderlich that Jesse has a daughter. I just—”

“Nana...” Thomas glared at the old woman.

“Ach, Thomas.” Nana held her nose up defiantly to her grandson, who towered over her by more than a foot.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nolt.” Darcy offered her hand to Thomas’s grandmother.

“Just call me Nana. Everyone does. And this is Hannah, Elijah’s wife.”

“Nice to meet you,” Darcy said to the other woman, who was close to herself in age. Elijah’s wife had flawless skin, shimmering green eyes and a look of genuine sympathy in her expression.

“They were teenage sweethearts,” Nana explained. “Reunited by—”

“Nana,” Thomas interrupted again, this time whispering something to her in their Germanic language.

Again the old woman dismissed Thomas’s unsolicited guidance with a wave of her hand. “I was just going to invite her to the prayer gathering.”

A change in subject was definitely in order. “Wow. This place looks great,” Darcy interjected. She didn’t want to be rude to the woman who had worked so hard to clean Jesse’s home and who had been so kind to her already, but Darcy did not want to go to a prayer gathering. She didn’t even know how to pray or if she even could. Faith had never been a part of her life. In any case, even if changing the subject had been her goal, the compliment was sincere. The transformation of the cottage was stunning. The home had been completely cleaned and organized. “It’s so warm and homey.”

“Just like the man who lives here.” Nana glared back at her grandson. Darcy had to hold back the urge to laugh at the comical exchange between Thomas and his grandmother.

Darcy looked to the older man who sat nearby. He’d seemed uninterested in the conversation, but now rose and moved toward her.

“This is Bishop Miller. He’s one of the Elders, or leaders, of our Ordnung,” Nana explained. “He’s also Elijah’s father.”

Darcy nodded at the man who was slow to make eye contact with his piercing blue eyes. There were no smiles from this person. No handshake. Yet he did not seem harsh, simply solemn. He looked like a man who carried a lot of weight on his shoulders. He stopped just a few feet from her and stood silent.

“It’s very nice of you all to do this for Jesse,” she said. “So very kind. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

“You had a long night. You must be exhausted,” said Nana.

“Which is why we’d like for you to join us at lunch at Nolt cottage,” said Hannah.

They didn’t wait for her answer, but swept through the front door as quick as a second. Only Thomas and the bishop stayed. Thomas still held the Bible in his hands. She wondered if he took it everywhere with him. And why did its presence in his hands make her so uncomfortable? She’d seen plenty of Bibles in her life.

“Bishop Miller would like to speak with you, if that’s okay,” Thomas said.

Darcy nodded to him as a wave of dread washed over her.

“Then just follow the bishop to our place,” Thomas said. “It’s not far. About a mile or so.”

She nodded again and tried to swallow down the dry lump that had formed in her throat.

The bishop remained behind as Thomas exited. It was obvious he had something to tell her. Had something changed in Jesse’s condition since she left the hospital? She knew it was unlikely—the hospital had her contact information—but she was too worried to be rational. Her pulse spiked as she feared the worst of news.

“You know something about Jesse?” Darcy asked, trying to be brave.

“About his past, yes,” the old man said. “Just a little. But I will share what I have been told as my son thinks it is important for you and the police to know.”

“The police?” Darcy could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. So this past might have something to do with Jesse’s beating and her phone call? Did he also know why Jesse had abandoned her? Did she even want to know?

Bishop Miller cleared his throat. “When Jesse came here he was a broken man. A man running from many things. He was very scared. But he was also searching—for God and for the forgiveness that can only come from the Lord. And he opened his heart and found peace.”

“Until yesterday?” Darcy asked.

He nodded.

“What was he running from? From the people who beat him? From the law? From...me?”

Darcy tried to swallow again, but her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

“He was not running from you, child, but from himself. He made many mistakes, Miss Simmons. Although it is not for me to judge.” The bishop remained solemn but his tone was kind. “And please know that Jesse has had to pay dearly for his past decisions through great loss and sacrifice.”

“What sacrifice? Looks to me like he came here and lived a pretty great life...”

“His sacrifice was you. And your mother.”

“My mother? What do you know about my mother?” Darcy fell back into one of the upholstered chairs. None of this made her feel any better. Only more confused and sick inside.

Bishop Miller locked his sea-blue eyes on hers. “From what I was told, it all began when your father helped put a man in prison many years ago—a very bad man. Now that man has been released.”

The phone call. The voice. The man who was coming after her. The man who’d already viciously beaten Jesse. Darcy’s head was spinning. It felt as if all the blood had drained from her body. She tried to breathe and calm herself down, but it was like some invisible force had gripped her chest. “What did this man do? What has this got to do with my mother?”

“This man... He killed your mother.”


FIVE (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b)

“Why, Darcy, you’ve hardly touched your lunch,” said Nana Ruth as she cleared away the plates.

“I had a late breakfast,” she explained. Thomas watched Darcy stand and begin to help Nana and Hannah clean away the dishes. He knew the real reason she hadn’t touched her lunch. On the way from the cottage, when Darcy had stayed behind to talk to the bishop, Elijah had shared with Thomas what the Elders knew about Jesse Troyer’s past.

Thomas supposed he shouldn’t feel so mixed up about what he had learned. After the beating and the phone call to Darcy, he should have expected that Jesse had some dubious connections. Still, it created a cloud of mistrust to discover that Jesse had kept secrets for all these years. For Darcy those mixed emotions must have felt even heavier.

He glanced through the kitchen window. In his office in the stables, where he managed his business of raising and training horses, he’d stowed away Jesse’s Bible, which he’d taken from the cottage. He was going to take it to the hospital the next time he went to visit Jesse so he could read to him. But now, he felt compelled to share it with Darcy. She should be the one to take it to the hospital and share God’s word with her father. Maybe it would give her some peace in all of this confusion. By the look on her face, she could certainly use some.

“Your home is lovely.” Darcy brought him a cup of coffee that Nana had poured out.

“Danki.” Thomas felt a brief grin slide over his lips. He took the coffee from her hands, thinking how this woman was not quite what he had thought when he first saw her on Jesse’s front porch. Fancy and sharp-witted, yes. But there was something softer there, too, although Thomas guessed it wasn’t a side of her that she was comfortable revealing to many people, especially to a stranger like him.

“Well, if you like the old house, Miss Simmons, please allow me to show you the even older stables.” He glanced over to Elijah. “Eli and I were just heading there to look at the filly.”

Eli raised an eyebrow at the unexpected invitation, but followed Darcy and Thomas out of the white clapboard home toward the great red stable.

“So your grandmother lives on one side of the house and you on the other?” Darcy asked.

“When the house was more crowded, we definitely needed the space,” Thomas said, thinking back to a time not so long ago when his brother’s child and wife had lived there under his roof, dependent on his protection—protection he’d failed to give. “Now it’s just the two of us. Frankly, I don’t know how Nana keeps up the place all by herself.”

“That’s why Nana is always on the lookout for a new granddaughter-in-law.” Eli slapped him on the back.

Thomas clenched his teeth. He knew his friend meant no harm, but somehow the comment rubbed him wrong. To redirect the conversation, he started to explain to Darcy that Hannah—Elijah’s wife—used to live with him, along with her stepdaughter, Jessica, when Hannah was widowed by his older brother, who’d died in a buggy accident. And so it was really Eli’s fault that Nana had lost her helper, when he’d come back to town to investigate the case of Jessica’s murder and married Hannah. But the memory was so bittersweet. As happy as he was that his friend and his sister-in-law had found love together, the losses of his niece and brother weren’t happy topics. After all, the whole point of taking Darcy to the stable was to lift her spirits, not add to the weight of what she already carried.

Thomas led Darcy and Eli through the aisles. “These are the Morgan breeding mares. On the other side are the draft mares. I have two stallions, which are housed in a separate stable on the far side of the property. And this—this is Gilda. She was just born two weeks ago.”

Darcy looked over the stall door, down at the little bay filly, who tried to put her nose over the door to greet them.

“Oh, my, she’s so sweet.” Darcy smiled. And Thomas thought he saw at least a little of the weight from her shoulders lift. “Can I pet her?”

“Ja. Ja,” he said. “She’s very friendly. And already used to people. She’s going to make a great driver.”

He and Eli watched Darcy pet the playful filly, who snorted and nipped at Darcy’s hand. “I’ve never really been around animals much. My grandparents wouldn’t let me have a pet.”

“It’s sort of a mandatory experience around here.” Eli laughed.

Darcy’s smile slipped a little.

“I have something for you,” Thomas said. “It’s in the office.”

“For me?” Darcy looked stunned as she followed him into his small office.

He lifted the Bible from his desk and placed it into her hands. “This is Jesse’s. I found it on the table when we first started cleaning. I was going to take it to the hospital and read it to Jesse. But then I thought that he would want you to do that.”

“Oh.” Darcy looked frozen for a moment, then she finally extended her hands to take the great book. “I’m afraid, like the animals, I don’t know much about the Bible, either.”

She held it delicately in her hands, as if it was made of glass. Thomas felt a lump form in his throat. Had he gone too far? He had only meant to make things better.

“What would I read to him?” she asked.

“Just trust your heart.” Thomas smiled.

She nodded. “Jesse did share some verses with me in a letter. I guess I could look those up.”

Eli reached for the Bible. “Really, you can’t go wrong with any part of it. For example, sometimes I’ll just flip it open...”

As Elijah turned the pages, a note fluttered out from the book and fell to the floor.

Thomas reached for it and unfolded the small letter, his eyes glancing quickly over the message. Then his heart sank to stomach. He looked up at Darcy. “We need to call the chief.”

* * *

Darcy pulled at the ends of her hair. How much more could she take? She wasn’t sure. The note had been addressed to her to give to Jesse. It had been meant to terrorize them both. The man who had left it wanted her to know that he was coming for what Jesse had stolen. And if they wanted to live, they wouldn’t get in his way. It had been signed W.W. She agreed with Thomas that they needed to call McClendon. She needed to tell the chief what Bishop Miller had told her about Jesse’s past, too. Hopefully once he had all the information, the police chief would be able to piece together what was going on and stop this W.W. from hurting anyone else.

Darcy hurried from the stable to her car, where she’d left her phone in her bag. Her hands were shaking. Another threat and in a Bible of all places and... Where was her phone?

She searched her clutch bag, which was sitting in the passenger seat. The phone wasn’t there. She looked under the seats. It wasn’t there, either. She knew it wasn’t in the Nolts’ home. She hadn’t taken her purse or the phone inside.

Darcy’s mind flashed back to her enlightening conversation with the bishop. She remembered how the shock of his words had caused her to fall back. She had dropped her bag into the chair. Her phone must have fallen out then. It was probably right in the seat where he’d delivered the news that her mother had been murdered and the killer was now out of prison and on her trail. Now, thanks to the note in the Bible, she had yet another reminder of just how close that killer was.

She looked around, reminded of the isolation of the Amish farm. The cottage was only a mile away. It wouldn’t take long to go back and get it.

She hopped into the driver’s seat, her mind still spinning with all new information. Her grandparents had always blamed her father for her mother’s death—for the car crash that Darcy had always believed killed both of her parents. They had lied about her father dying. But were they telling the truth when they said it was her father’s fault? Had they known their daughter was murdered? And that her father had helped send the killer to prison? Murder... Killer... The words made her cringe. What else had everyone lied about? Had she ever known the truth about anything? Darcy felt like she didn’t even know who or what she was anymore.

Darcy passed through the woods separating Jesse’s land from Thomas’s. The cottage looked desolate as it came into view. Jesse’s horse wasn’t even in the field. Probably taken to a neighbor’s while Jesse was in the hospital. The thought of others pitching in to help in different ways touched Darcy. Jesse’s friends and neighbors were so loyal and devoted. Darcy wasn’t even sure who her neighbors were. And she was certain that if she’d been the one in the hospital, there would not have been a constant flow of visitors like there had been for Jesse.

She pulled up in front of the cottage, leaving her car running. Grabbing her phone wouldn’t take a second. She jiggled the door open and headed over to the chair where she’d been sitting. The phone was nestled between the arm and the seat cushion. That was a relief.

She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket. But as she began to turn, the front door suddenly slammed behind her.

Darcy jumped at the sudden sound, but tried to calm her nerves as she reasoned that it was simply a drafty house and that a change in pressure had caused the door to shut.

But a change in pressure where? And why? She turned toward the kitchen. Was there a back door that had opened? She spun back around. Everything looked in place. She was worried over nothing. She just needed to get back to Thomas’s. The sooner the better.

As she stepped toward the front door, something fell in the kitchen. The clank of a tin pot hitting the hardwood floor reverberated through the house.

Her heart froze. Darcy couldn’t breathe. Someone else was in the house. She took a step back. She looked left. She looked right. She saw nothing.

She hurried back toward the open door, but a figure appeared in her periphery.

She was not alone.


SIX (#uf55d179d-41cb-5e84-b3b1-4a2675f1e67b)

Inside the barn, Thomas was pacing, trying to make sense of why he’d heard Darcy’s car drive away. He hadn’t joined her when she left the barn because he’d thought she was just stepping out to grab her phone—she hadn’t said anything about departing yet. Darcy didn’t need to be going anywhere alone. “I thought she meant her phone was in the house.”

“Me, too,” Elijah agreed. “Do you have your business phone?”

“Of course. It is still in the buggy we took this morning to Jesse’s. I’ll go get it.”

Thomas jogged out to his buggy, which was parked on the other side of the stable. He would have offered his phone earlier but Darcy had been so keen to get her own. If he’d known she was going to drive off...

His little flip phone was tucked away inside the console of the buggy. It still had some power. He brought it back to Elijah. “I don’t know her number.”

“Call McClendon,” Elijah said.

It took a few minutes but Thomas finally got the chief on the phone.

“Miss Simmons left here alone,” Thomas said after explaining the rest of what they’d learned and the contents of the note they’d found.

“I’ll call her,” the chief said. “And I’ll have my assistant forward you her number, as well. We can try to locate her by using her phone, too, if it’s on and powered up.”

Thomas disconnected.

“Maybe she’s on her way back to the hospital to see Jesse?” Elijah suggested.

Thomas shook his head. “Why would she leave without saying anything?”

Thomas stared at his phone screen waiting for Darcy’s number to come through. When it did, he dialed the number immediately. What was that woman thinking, driving off without saying a word?

Darcy’s line rang and rang but she didn’t answer. Thomas left a message asking her to return the call.

“Maybe she needed a minute and went for a quick drive?” Elijah offered.

“I know there could be a million legitimate reasons for her to drive off,” Thomas admitted. “Maybe she saw the phone and realized she needed to call someone and drove away for some privacy.”

He didn’t believe a word of it. No matter what her reasoning, he couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t come back by now or said something to them first.

Thomas felt his heart jump when his phone rang in his fingers. “Darcy?” He lifted the phone.

“No. It’s the chief. We can’t get her to answer,” McClendon explained. “But we were able to track the phone.”

“Where is it?”

“Fourteen-oh-one Waking Lane.”

“That’s Jesse’s cottage. I’m going to go take a look.”

“She may not even be there,” Elijah said to him. “Just because the phone is there doesn’t mean the person is.”

“Well, it’s worth taking a look.” Thomas shoved the phone into Elijah’s hands. “You keep calling.”

“Right,” his friend said. “Take my buggy. Perry is still hitched up.”

Thomas untied Elijah’s horse from the hitching post and climbed inside the buggy. The trip through the woods seemed interminably long.

* * *

A large man grabbed Darcy’s arm from behind. With tremendous strength, he pulled her back into the center of the cottage.

Darcy’s blood raced through her veins. She screamed as she tripped backward. She braced herself and tried to whip her arm free, but his grip was too tight. Then a second man closed in on her from the other side. What could she do? They had her surrounded.

“What do you want?” The strength of her voice surprised her. She felt anything but strong at the moment. “This isn’t your home. You’re trespassing.”

“Where is it? Where did he leave it? With you, no doubt.” The voice was low and angry but with a distinct accent that she couldn’t quite place. Was this the man from the phone call? Were these men responsible for the note they’d found in Jesse’s Bible?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I assure you. Jesse didn’t give me anything.” Darcy thought of the phone inside her jacket. If she could just get the call to 911...but she’d have to do it carefully to keep her attackers from noticing. She reached her free hand slowly into her jacket pocket as her eyes darted back and forth between the two men—she needed to find a way to escape them.

“She’s got a gun!” one of them yelled.

Darcy felt it before she knew what had happened. A sharp searing pain ran from the top of her head down the length of her body. She buckled to the floor. Warm blood trickled over her forehead. She fought to keep her eyes open but it was no use. Her vision blurred. Words swirled in the air above her and then the world turned black.

* * *

The cottage looked dark as it came into view, but Thomas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Darcy’s small red automobile parked in front. Thomas slowed Perry to a trot.

But the closer he got to the cottage the more Perry pranced and pulled. He sidestepped. He flung his weight around. He shook his thick, black mane and began to exhale with sharp, strong breaths.

“Easy, boy. Easy.” He tried to reassure the frightened animal, but a spooked horse was hard to settle. Especially when Thomas felt a little out of sorts himself. He knew what was bothering him—he was worried about Darcy. But what had the horse so unsettled? Thomas halted the buggy and tied Perry to a hitching post in the back. He moved silently across the back lawn, nearing Jesse’s cottage, then froze when a woman’s loud scream echoed out of the house and across the field.

Thomas ran along the side of the house toward the front porch. Low, deep, masculine voices sounded in the cold air. Though he couldn’t make out everything they said, they didn’t sound familiar. And from the stray curse word he caught here and there, they certainly didn’t sound Amish.

Thomas turned the corner of the front porch, just in time to see two men rush out the front door. They hopped into Darcy’s running car and drove off in a red blur.

Thomas flew through the open front door and scanned the cottage. “Darcy?”

Then he spotted her lifeless body sprawled over the floor near the kitchen. Her thick dark hair was splayed around her face with bits of blood splattered around her in almost every direction.

Oh, please, Lord, no! Don’t let her be dead...

For a millisecond, Thomas staggered, unable to breathe as if he himself had been struck over the head. But just as quickly he shook off the horrible surprise and made his way to her in two broad steps. Kneeling beside her, he steadied himself to check her pulse. The gruesome gash on the front of her head looked deadly and she wasn’t moving.

He glanced down at the creamy skin of her delicate hands. Her painted nails glinted in the afternoon light.

He swallowed hard and pressed his fingers against her skin. Please, please be alive. I could never forgive myself if...

He felt her heart’s rhythm stroke his fingertips. Danki, Lord. Danki!

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She didn’t react. She was out cold. It was like finding Jesse all over again.




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