Love Inspired Suspense June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2, page 35
“I’d rather they speculate about an innocent family visit than all the things that had gotten their tongues wagging previously.”
“So true.” Both she and Jonah had been through so much over the past few years. To even worry if someone judged them for hosting her Englisch sister, brother-in-law and baby seemed silly.
“Daisy and Andy were so happy to meet their cousin.” There was a dreamy quality to his voice.
“Daisy will make a wonderful little mother’s helper someday,” Liddie said, wondering if Gott was going to bless them with a child sooner rather than later. The past few mornings, her stomach felt queasy, but she had written it off to nerves ahead of her sister’s visit. She hadn’t said anything to Jonah yet because she didn’t want to disappoint him if it wasn’t true.
“Yah, all big sisters tend to be little helpers in large Amish families.”
“Speaking of big Amish families, Mrs. Beiler wandered over earlier today when you were working in the field.” Liddie hated to spoil such a peaceful moment with news from their days of hardship, but the troubled Amish neighbor had a tendency to pop into her mind now and again. Jonah and Liddie had decided not to pursue charges against Amity for her part in being a lookout for her drug dealer boyfriend and his friends. Instead, the family had decided to send her away to a relative’s home in Ohio. “It seems Amity is getting married in a couple of weeks.”
Jonah raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Apparently to a nice Amish boy. The family feels she’s changed.”
“I hope she has.” His simple statement still held a hint of a hard edge. Jonah had proclaimed forgiveness, but she knew he still struggled. It was natural. She supposed it helped that Dean was in jail and was expected to spend the rest of his life there.
“Mrs. Beiler asked us to keep an eye on the property. They’ll be out of town that weekend.”
“Seems ironic, right? For us to keep an eye on their farm when their daughter...” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Gott knows I’m trying to forgive.”
“You’re doing just fine.”
Jonah must have noticed Liddie’s subtle squirm as she adjusted her tingling arm under the baby. “Here, let me hold her,” he said.
“Really?” Liddie didn’t hide her disbelief. When she first moved in to be the children’s nanny, Jonah rarely interacted with them. That slowly changed over the course of months, but she had often wondered how he would be with a baby. Most men she knew deferred all childrearing to the mother, especially when it came to little ones.
“Yah, I’m sure. I’ve held a baby before.” Jonah stood and bent over, carefully taking the baby from her. Caitlin looked so tiny in his large hands and Liddie’s heart softened. A warmth spread through her veins. She didn’t think it was possible to love this man any more than she already did. He settled into the rocker and adjusted the blanket away from the baby’s face. “Hello, little one.”
Liddie found herself staring at her husband. Wondering why Gott had seen to bless her with such a wonderful life when not that long ago she struggled to find her place in this world. Turned out it was in Hickory Lane. As the wife of Jonah Troyer.
He lifted his face and smiled. “It will be nice when we have a little one of our own.”
Liddie’s heart began to race. Did he suspect something? The butterflies in her belly made her want to blurt out her news. She reached out and touched his strong hand supporting the baby’s head. “I think we may be blessed, sooner rather than later.”
A smile unlike one she had ever seen brightened her husband’s face. “Are you?”
“I’m not sure, but I think...” She shrugged and gingerly placed her other hand on her abdomen. “I hope.”
Jonah adjusted the baby in his arms and reached over to cover Liddie’s hand with his. “I’m confident Gott will bless us with whatever is gut for our family. He has already blessed me beyond measure.”
Liddie blinked and felt a tear escape down her cheek.
Jonah pulled back his hand and a flash of concern swept across his handsome face. “What is it? Are you not feeling well?”
A slow smile pulled on her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”
“Me, neither.”
“Perhaps we should get the little one into the bassinette before she wakes up again.”
Jonah nodded and passed her the baby. He followed her up the stairs with a protective hand on the small of her back. A warm, cozy feeling swirled around her and she had an odd sense. As if time had passed. They were retiring for the night, ready to put their child to bed. Not her niece.
It felt so real.
If anyone had told her she’d be where she was now almost two years ago after she had made terrible choices, she wouldn’t have believed them. Her heart and mind had been weighted down by uncertainty. Doubt. But, now, outside her sister’s bedroom door, ready to put her infant niece to bed, she had an overwhelming sense that her happiness wouldn’t be fleeting.
A blessed future. One with her husband, Daisy, Andy and any babies Gott saw fit to bless them with. Yes, she truly did believe.
She had faith.
* * * * *
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Amish Country Cover-Up, my second book set in Hickory Lane, a fictional town in Western New York. I hope you had as much fun following the story of Bridget’s younger sister Liddie, who got in trouble during Rumspringa in the first book in the series, Seeking Amish Shelter. As a result, Liddie was struggling to find her way, which led her to take a job as a nanny for a recent Amish widower. And, of course, where Liddie goes, “bad stuff” follows. (Sorry, I don’t want to give away the plot in case you’re reading this letter first!) Even though there is an overlap of characters, and both books are set in Hickory Lane, each story can be read as a standalone.
Writing Amish Country Cover-Up was a wonderful escape during a very trying time in the world when my entire family was quarantined in my home during the height of the pandemic. It reinforced the notion that books are a wonderful form of escape. Readers can follow the twists and turns of the characters’ lives knowing, especially in the Love Inspired Suspense line, that the heroine will find love and the bad guys will get their comeuppance. There is a certainty that we often can’t find in the real world. So, I hope you enjoyed this little break from the world.
Meanwhile, I’ll be plotting more mayhem for my next book.
I love to hear from my readers via email at Alison@AlisonStone.com.
Be well.
Live, Love, Laugh,
Alison Stone
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ISBN-13: 9781488072352
Amish Country Cover-Up
Copyright © 2021 by Alison Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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As they neared the perp’s sedan, heavy thuds sounded from the trunk.
Trey closed his K-9 partner’s divider, then he withdrew his weapon and inched closer.
The thudding increased.
Carefully, Trey released the trunk and stepped back, gun at the ready.
A woman lay faceup, arms and ankles bound. She jerked awkwardly, trying to kick him, desperation in each movement. Muffled screams indicated she was gagged under the black hood covering her head.
“Ma’am, my name is Trooper Jackson. I’m here to help you. You’re safe.”
She stopped flailing, her frame rigid.
“I’m going to remove the hood.”
Trey leaned in, gently pulling the fabric free.
She wrenched back. Dark tendrils streaked her face and her wide hazel eyes pierced him, terror written on her expression.
Several seconds ticked by as he absorbed the sight.
Finally, he found his voice. “Justine Stark, is that you?”
Sharee Stover is a Colorado native transplanted to Nebraska, where she lives with her husband, three children and two dogs. Her mother instilled in her a love of books before Sharee could read, along with the promise “If you can read, you can do anything.” When she’s not writing, she enjoys time with her family, long walks with her obnoxiously lovable German shepherd and crocheting. Find her at shareestover.com or on Twitter, @shareestover.
Books by Sharee Stover
Love Inspired Suspense
Secret Past
Silent Night Suspect
Untraceable Evidence
Grave Christmas Secrets
Cold Case Trail
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
Cold Case Trail
Sharee Stover
And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.
—John 8:32
For my daughter, Andi. Your love for K-9s and their law enforcement handlers inspired Magnum’s story.
Many thanks to:
My amazing editor, Emily Rodmell, for her encouragement and support.
Trooper Levi Cockle and K-9 Cole for their expertise and service.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
ONE
He’s been in my apartment, I’m sure of it. Is he watching me now?
Forensic psychologist Justine Stark glanced over her shoulder and shivered. A slight breeze rustled the oak tree leaves near the pasture, and the wind chime overhead sang softly. She searched for movement in the inky night but spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Her surroundings stilled, and she returned her attention to the diary’s worn brown leather cover. Somewhere within its pages, she’d decipher the clues to develop a criminal profile to catch the killer.
First, she had to compartmentalize her emotions, a liability for any investigation. Except her throat tightened at the sight of her best friend’s flamboyant handwriting, as whimsical as the woman who’d penned the contents. Worse, Justine almost heard Kayla Nolan’s terrified voice in each entry, even a decade after her death.
Justine wrapped herself in a hug, warding off the chill, though the summer air was balmy. Slowing the old porch swing, she noted Kayla’s fear escalation and stalker-related entries. The shrill ring of her cell phone sent her pen skidding off the paper.
A nervous chuckle escaped, and she glanced at the screen. Caller Unknown. Was the Nebraska State Patrol investigator in charge of Kayla’s case finally returning her call? Or had Harry Dante found time to harass her from prison again?
A second ring. She contemplated letting it go to voice mail, except she wanted to talk to the investigator. “Hello?”
Silence, then heavy breathing.
Her irritation increased. “Give it up, Harry.”
A responding dial tone.
She sighed and set the phone atop the notebook. Her extensive profiling and criminal-trial testimonies produced a growing list of haters, but dealing with the harassment never got easier.
Dante had sworn revenge on everyone involved in his sentencing hearing. Over the past year, he’d bombarded Justine with not-so-anonymous hate mail and a steady stream of untraceable calls. Certain Dante used a burner phone, she’d contacted the warden. He’d disregarded the claim, stating prisoners had access only to landlines.
Changing her number had proved futile because the calls continued. The final straw—the vandalism of her car outside her Lincoln apartment—prompted her relocation three hours away to the rural twelve-acre, fixer-upper ranch in the far northeastern part of Nebraska.
Justine resumed swaying, focused on the abundance of fireflies dancing in the night sky to the cadence of crickets and cicadas. The sweet scent of lilacs wafted from the overgrown bushes bordering the two-story farmhouse wraparound porch, calming her.
You’re safe here. She rehearsed the comforting mantra, relishing the haven where she fostered dogs for the overflowing animal shelter in town.
Lifting the diary again, Justine angled the page, allowing her to read by the soft glow of the porch light. She donned the persona of a clinician, shoving aside the guilt-ridden heart she had for failing to save her best friend.
Kayla’s scribblings testified to a nameless, faceless psychopath, who’d tormented her by leaving bizarre gifts inside her apartment. Though she’d tried to report the incidents, no one except Justine had believed her. The authorities had classified Kayla’s death as suspicious, claiming it was an overdose after a drug buy gone bad. And they were wrong because Justine knew her friend never used drugs. Kayla had been murdered. But why?
What she hadn’t done ten years ago, she’d accomplish now and ensure Kayla got justice. The diary was a beginning, but Justine wanted the investigator’s evidence files, even if it meant storming his office door.
Clover stretched out a reassuring paw before consuming the rest of the porch swing with her furry body.
“Am I in your way?” Justine ruffled the overweight calico’s velvety fur.
Sharp, piercing barks emitted from the renovated barn, sending Justine’s pulse racing. She placed a hand over her chest. “I’d better go to bed before every noise gives me a heart attack. What is going on with the boys?”
Clover yawned, indifferent to the commotion.
“Thanks for your support,” Justine teased, pushing off the swing. She stepped down to the lawn and rounded the house, aiming for the barn—affectionately dubbed the Dog House—with Clover accompanying her.
An ambient glow stretched from the building’s ajar door, slowing Justine. Hadn’t she locked up after feeding the boys?
Uneasiness crept between her shoulders. She paused, turned and scanned the surrounding trees, casting shadows with their canopy of leaves.
You’re safe here.
The dogs continued barking in an uneven banter.
A rustle sent the calico darting off, startling Justine. “Stop that,” she admonished herself.
Too bad Clover wasn’t an attack cat.
Should she enter? And what other choice did she have? Mr. Richardson, her closest neighbor, lived a half mile adjacent from her. The unpleasant man was more interested in taking ownership of her property rather than helping her.
Justine still clutched the diary. She shoved it into the large pocket of her khaki cargo shorts. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she pushed wide the door and, in a single stride, stepped inside and flipped on the overhead lights. “Gentlemen, what’s with all the hullabaloo?”
At her entrance, the barking ceased and five tails wagged in greeting. A quick scan confirmed an empty room, except for the motley crew of mutts. Justine studied the door, accepting she’d earlier failed to close it properly.
Or a raccoon got in, explaining Clover’s sudden departure. The varmints had discovered the building held an abundance of food, making them a recent nuisance.
“It’s bedtime.” Talking to the dogs calmed her.
Justine double-checked each kennel and resident, providing a few minutes of attention.
She saved the neediest patient for last. “Hey, Barney, how’re you feeling?” Justine knelt beside the senior basset hound recovering from a broken leg.
He gave her a rhythmic thump of his tail while lounging on his doggie cot, his big brown eyes pleading.
“I promise you’ll return to the house once you’re able to climb the stairs again.”
Barney harrumphed and laid his head down, dangling his long ears over the edge.
She chuckled and exited the kennel, giving the space one last perusal. A countertop on the far side, along with a sink and cabinets, held the dogs’ food, treats and medications. Her part-time ranch hand’s accommodations were cordoned off on the right. The barn was spotless, and since the installation of the air conditioner, the temperature remained comfortable.
