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Hidden in Plain View
Diane Burke
COLLIDING WORLDS After a tragedy rips through her Amish community, Sarah Lapp doesn’t remember anything. She can’t recall her Plain upbringing, her deceased husband or the shooting that landed her under the protection of handsome undercover cop Samuel King. She is, however, aware of the confusing feelings he creates in her from the moment he walks into her life.Sam is determined to protect Sarah and her unborn baby in case the shooters return. Because if they do, it’ll be more than just Sarah’s memory at stake.
COLLIDING WORLDS
After a tragedy rips through her Amish community, Sarah Lapp doesn’t remember anything. She can’t recall her Plain upbringing, her deceased husband or the shooting that landed her under the protection of handsome undercover cop Samuel King. She is, however, aware of the confusing feelings he creates in her from the moment he walks into her life. Sam is determined to protect Sarah and her unborn baby in case the shooters return. Because if they do, it’ll be more than just Sarah’s memory at stake.
“It is kind of you to show concern, Detective King.”
“Please, call me Samuel.”
“Samuel.” Her soft voice drew his attention. “Who are you, Samuel? You dress like an Amish man. Our men are not detectives.” Her eyes studied him.
“I assure you, Sarah, I am a detective. I was raised Amish. I left my home in Ohio and joined the police force about fifteen years ago.”
“You are very far from home, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I wanted to get as far away as I could.” Sam shrugged. “Memories aren’t always good.”
Her eyes shimmered, and he fought not to lose himself in their beauty.
“I wish I had some memories,” she whispered.
“Memories aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, Sarah. I have memories, but no one to love me. You don’t have memories, but you have people who love you very much.”
Her beauty spoke to him, stirring feelings better left dormant. Stepping back, he reminded himself of his own rules.
DIANE BURKE
is the mother of three grown sons and the grandmother of five grandsons and three step-grandchildren. She has three daughters-in-law who have blessed her by their addition to her family. She lives in Florida, nestled somewhere between the Daytona Beach speedway and the St. Augustine fort, with Cocoa, her golden Lab, and Thea, her border collie. Thea and Cocoa don’t know they are dogs, because no one has ever told them. Shhh.
When she was growing up, her siblings always believed she could “exaggerate” her way through any story and often waited with bated breath to see how events turned out, even though they had been present at most of them. Now she brings those stories to life on the written page.
Her writing has earned her numerous awards, including a Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence.
She would love to hear from her readers. You can contact her at diane@dianeburkeauthor.com.
Hidden in Plain View
Diane Burke
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you.
I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.
—Isaiah 41:10
This book is dedicated to the family and friends
who offered nothing but love and open arms to both my son and me during our long-overdue reunion.
I also wish to thank Rachel Burkot, my new editor, for jumping in midstream and doing a phenomenal job of helping me make this book the best it could be.
Contents
PROLOGUE (#u3c10090e-adf8-50c1-81c3-5ffa18f6f539)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8698357e-2c63-5a0e-a45c-dc2784e74821)
CHAPTER TWO (#u35fd8fff-14a6-5753-a3fa-d63066b19f0d)
CHAPTER THREE (#u52098e5f-c2be-5136-a16c-f9a121738a50)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf0e69030-df65-522c-91c4-22f8d3f5d101)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u7ffd464e-78e0-5f32-8384-08bfaae2f43e)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
DEAR READER (#litres_trial_promo)
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE
Mount Hope, Lancaster County, PA
Sarah Lapp wasn’t thinking about guns or violence or murder on this unseasonably warm fall day. She was thinking about getting her basket of apples and cheese to the schoolhouse.
Pedaling her bicycle down the dirt road, she spotted the silhouettes of her in-laws, Rebecca and Jacob, standing close together in the distant field.
Sarah knew when she’d married their son, Peter, that she had been fortunate to have married her best friend.
But sometimes...
She glanced at them again.
Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder what true love felt like.
Chiding herself for her foolish notions, she turned her attention back to the road. A sense of unease taunted her as she approached the school. The children should be out in the yard on their first break of the day, but the ball field was empty.
She hit the kickstand on her bike and looked around the yard.
Peter’s horse and wagon were tethered to the rail, a water bucket beside them. Children’s bicycles haphazardly dotted the lawn. The bats for the morning ball game rested against the bottom of the steps.
Everything appeared normal.
But it didn’t feel normal.
Sarah climbed the steps and moved cautiously across the small landing, noting the open windows and the curtains fluttering in the breeze.
Silence.
Her pulse pounded. When was a room full of children ever silent?
She’d barely turned the knob when the door was pulled wide with such force that Sarah was propelled forward and sprawled across the floor.
Peter started in her direction.
“Stop right there, Peter, unless you want to see your wife hurt.” The speaker was John Zook, a cousin who had recently returned to the Amish way of life. He pulled Sarah roughly to her feet.
“John?” Sarah gasped when she saw a gun peeking out from the folds of the carpentry apron tied around his waist.
Immediately Peter and the teacher, Hannah, gathered the children together and took a protective stance in front of them, shielding their view of the room.
Sarah stood alone in the middle of the room and faced the gunman. She saw fear in his hooded eyes—fear and something else. Something hard and cold.
“John, why are you doing this terrible thing?” she asked.
“Is he out there? Did you see him?”
“Who, John? Who do you think is out there?” Sarah tried to understand what was frightening him.
“What do you want?” Peter’s voice commanded from the back of the room.
“I want you to shut up,” John snapped in return.
Sarah glanced at the children and marveled at how well behaved and silent they were. John had made sure the adults had seen his weapon, but Sarah was fairly certain the children had not. They seemed more confused and curious than frightened.
John lifted the curtain. “He’s out there. I know it.”
“John, I did not pass anyone on the road. It was just me.” Sarah kept her voice calm and friendly. “We will help you if you will tell us what it is that frightens you so.”
When John looked at them, Sarah was taken aback by the absolute terror she saw in his eyes. “He’s going to kill me,” he whispered. “There will be no place I can hide.”
Peter, his patience running thin, yelled at the man. “You are starting to scare the children. I am going to let them out the back door and send them home.”
“Nobody moves,” John ordered.
Feeling the tension escalate, Sarah tried to find words to defuse the situation. “Peter is right. Whatever’s wrong, we will help you. But you must let the children leave.”
John shot a furtive glance at the group huddled in the corner and then nodded. “All right. Get them out of here, but make it quick.”
Peter ushered the children outside, with whispers to each child to run straight home. When the teacher came up behind the last child, Peter ignored her protests and shoved her to safety, too.
John shoved a felt pouch at Sarah. “Hide this and don’t give it to anyone but me. Understand?”
The heavy and cumbersome bag felt like rocks or marbles were nestled inside. She used several straight pins to bind it to her waistband.
Suddenly the sound of boots pounding against the wooden steps filled the air.
“Shut up. Don’t make a sound!” John ordered. With trembling hands, he aimed his gun and waited for the door to open. But it didn’t.
Instead, bullets slammed through the door.
“Sarah, get down!” Peter yelled from across the room.
Pieces of wood from the walls and desks, as well as chunks of chalkboard, splintered as each bullet reached a target.
John Zook grabbed his shoulder. Then doubled over and clutched his stomach, groaning in pain.
The door banged open and slammed against the wall. A stranger entered, this one much taller, with darkness in his eyes that cemented Sarah’s feet to the floor in fear.
“Hello, John. Didn’t expect to see me, did you?”
The slighter man’s body shook. “I was gonna call and let you know where I was, Jimmy. Just as soon as I found a safe place for us to hide out.”
