AMISH ABDUCTION

Ten years ago while on rumspringa, Rebecca Miller and her friends were kidnapped and held captive...and now, living in the English world, she’s nearly abducted again. One by one her friends who once helped send their abductor to jail are targeted, and she is next...unless police officer Miles Olsen can stop a killer. Deaf since birth, the only person on the force that Rebecca can communicate with is Miles, and he needs this case to redeem himself of past mistakes. When the relentless killer tracks them deep into the heart of Amish country, protecting Rebecca must be Miles’s sole focus. Because a mistake this time will cost something worth more to him than his job—the woman he’s falling for.

The fear was so strong, it choked her.

Forcing herself to shake it off, she focused on fixing dinner. But when another officer approached Miles, putting something on the table, she froze. He looked up, his face full of dread. “Rebecca, no,” he signed. He spoke to the officer, gesturing at a wrinkled picture on the table.

Lipreading had never been her forte. For the first time she wished it was.

What was in that picture that had Miles so shook up?

She stepped closer to get a look...and her world tilted. Bile surged in her throat, choking off her breath. The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering.

“That picture was in a frame on my desk,” she signed to Miles. “It was taken last year.”

His arms tightened around her. Despite the comfort they offered, she’d never forget the image of her and her friends laughing at the camera. Or the red X slashed through her friend’s face.

And the circle around her own.

She understood the message. Her friend was dead...and she was next.

Dear Reader,

I am so happy to be able to share Miles and Rebecca’s story with you! This is the second book in my Amish Country Justice series, and it was both a joy and a challenge to write.

When I first started writing Presumed Guilty in 2014, Miles was one of those characters who tugged at my heart. He had so many issues to reconcile, and had gotten off track a bit. He had lost his way. Yet, God was with him. And I knew I wanted to write his story, to show that he had changed and found redemption. I was touched by the readers who wrote to me asking for his story.

Rebecca was first introduced in Plain Target. She was so much fun to write about! She had been through so much, yet still managed to keep God at the heart of her life.

I hope you enjoyed Miles and Rebecca’s story. I have one more to go in this trilogy, and I am really excited about it. It has been amazing following my characters into the Amish community.

Thank you for journeying with me. I love to hear from readers. You can email me at WriterDanaLynn@gmail.com. Or visit me online at www.danarlynn.com. I am also on Facebook and Twitter (@DanaRLynn).

Blessings,

Dana R. Lynn

DANA R. LYNN grew up in Illinois. She met her husband at a wedding and told her parents she had met her future husband. Nineteen months later, they were married. Today they live in rural Pennsylvania with their three children, two dogs, one cat, one rabbit, one horse and six chickens. In addition to writing, she works as an educational interpreter for the deaf and is active in several ministries in her church.

Plain Retribution

Dana R. Lynn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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What shall we then say to these things?

If God be for us, who can be against us?

—Romans 8:31

This book is dedicated to my family, who supported me through all the craziness. Love you. And to my Lord, in awe of His many blessings.

Acknowledgments

Thank you so much to everyone who helped with this book. To my friends in the Deaf community, thank you for helping me to get into my heroine’s head and understand her better. To Shelley Shepard Gray, thanks for sharing your experience and love of the Amish community. It made such a difference! To my critique partners and friends, thank you for reading and pointing out problems, lending a shoulder to cry on, or just sharing a cup of coffee and letting me vent.

Thanks to my editor, Elizabeth Mazer, and Love Inspired Books for all the hard work and support. You are amazing and I am so grateful for the opportunity to work with you.

A special thanks to my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray. Even though you are not the agent of record for this book, your advice and friendship have been invaluable.

Special thanks to my late agent, Mary Sue Seymour, a wonderful mentor and friend.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

She hated this time of night.

Rebecca Miller stepped outside and shut the shop’s door behind her, taking care to lock it. The air was thick with the smell of wood smoke from the houses nearby. She rubbed her arms to ward off a chill—not all of it from the cool fall air. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was she being watched? Holding the key out in front of her like a weapon, she peered into the darkness. Nothing. Her brother Levi would have cautioned her against letting her imagination run wild. Her Amish mother would chide her for her lack of faith in the Lord’s protection. Well, she had faith. But she had also learned the hard way that having faith did not prevent horrible things from happening. And she had the scars, mentally and physically, to prove it.

Her breathing quickened. She forced herself to breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out. Better. Was she panting? Could anyone hear it? Levi had told her that hearing people could hear the sound of her rapid breaths when she was frightened. How accurate that was, she didn’t know. She’d never heard breathing, or any other sound, in her entire life. Rebecca had been profoundly deaf since she had been born into her large Amish family. They hadn’t put hearing aids on her. When she had left her Amish community instead of being baptized at seventeen, she had tried them, but didn’t notice any difference. Now at twenty-five, she had no interest in trying them again.

She rarely allowed her deafness to hold her back, having spent years striving for independence in the hearing world, but sometimes she felt the lack of hearing keenly. Like now, knowing if someone was stepping closer to her, she’d never hear them coming.

She wondered again what had possessed her to agree—for the first time since she’d taken the job—to close by herself the bookstore she worked in. Every other time she’d worked this late, she’d had someone else closing with her. Granted, it was only a little after eight thirty in the evening, but in October, it was so dark out that it might as well have been ten o’clock at night. She shivered. Whether from cold or apprehension, she wasn’t sure.

Sucking in a deep breath for fortification, she started across the empty alley to where her car was parked. Maybe she should have taken her best friend Jess’s offer to let her husband, Seth, drive her home when he had finished his work shift. She could have waited inside the locked store until he came, and they could have retrieved her car tomorrow. Not wanting to put them out, she’d refused. Now she wished she’d accepted.

No. She shook her head. It was time she took care of herself and got over her fear of the dark.

In her periphery, a shadow moved. She flinched. You’re being ridiculous, she signed in her head. No one was there.

Her heart continued to thud inside her chest. Memories of the past started to cloud her thoughts. What if someone was out there, like before? Only, this time, she was alone. Of course, having people with her hadn’t been enough to protect her back then.

Please, Lord, be my shield.

Holding her hand out, she pressed the key fob to unlock the car door. The headlights blinked, then remained on. In the sudden light, she saw her hand was shaking. She hated the fear that crawled inside her. The fear that kept her from going about her life like anyone else. Instead, she was constantly looking over her shoulder.

Just a few more feet, and she would be safe inside her car. She quickened her pace and practically threw herself into the car, then slammed the door behind her. Leaning back against the headrest, she let out a slow breath and felt her heart pounding inside her chest.

Remaining where she was, she flicked her gaze to the rearview mirror. And froze.

Cold, dark eyes glittered at her from beneath a dark ski mask. Someone was in her car!

Whipping around, she came face-to-face with a nightmare. The intruder shot forward and grabbed her by the neck and yanked her back against the headrest, trying to choke her. She couldn’t breathe! Lungs burning, the keys fell from her hand as she twisted and turned, trying to break her attacker’s hold. Both of her hands latched on to the arm around her throat. She tugged and pulled with all her might, but to no avail. Her eyes seemed hyperfocused, zooming in on every detail as adrenaline coursed through her system. She saw every hair on the arm that tightened around her throat, noted the sharp lines of the tattoo on his wrist. She struggled against her attacker’s grip, but he wouldn’t budge. Her knee banged against the steering wheel. She barely noticed it.

The alley was empty. There was no use hoping anyone would see her.

The man’s grip tightened. Rebecca clawed at his arm as hard as she could, feeling several fingernails break off. Lifting one hand, she shoved it back into the attacker’s face, stabbing her thumb into one dark eye.

The black-masked figure reared back and rubbed his injured eye.

She was free! But she wasn’t safe. Not yet.

Before the villain could recover, Rebecca fumbled for the door latch and tumbled out of the car. Gaining her feet, she bolted.

Out into the alley and toward Main Street, she ran as fast as her long legs would carry her.

As she approached the end of the alley, the glow from the streetlights cast shadows on the buildings she raced past. The attacker’s shadow loomed too close. And it was getting closer. Her attacker was only a few feet behind her! Leaning forward, she pushed herself harder.

A hand slid down her hair. She felt a few strands catch, rip out of her scalp. The pain was instant, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. She kept running, even as her eyes watered.

She opened her mouth. She screamed. Whether it was loud enough for anyone to hear, she had no idea. But her throat was raw. And her energy was waning.

Almost there.

Her attacker grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. Rebecca skidded onto the ground. Gravel scraped across her palms, and she ripped her skirt.

She flipped herself over to a sitting position so she could see her assailant. As he rushed toward her again, she scooped up a handful of dirt and gravel and flung it at the disguised figure with all her might. Her aim was true.

There was a brief moment of satisfaction as he covered his eyes with his gloved hands. But she knew this wouldn’t hold him off for long, so she didn’t hang around to gloat. She jumped to her feet and ran out into the street.

And right into the path of a moving car.

The car veered slightly to the side and came to a sudden halt inches from hitting her.

Praise the Lord. She sent up an earnest prayer. It was a police car. She had almost been run down by one of LaMar Pond’s finest. And now she had an officer to protect her from the attacker, who had to be closing in on her by now.

Shooting a panicked glance over her shoulder, she exhaled in relief when she saw her attacker had fled.

The police car door opened and a tall officer jumped from the vehicle and rushed to her side. He pulled her off the street and onto the sidewalk, under a streetlight. For the first time, she took note of his familiar features. Warm blue eyes, blond hair that tended to get shaggy. Miles Olsen. She sighed in relief. She had met the young officer last spring when Jess had been in danger. Not only was he a policeman, but he was also the only one in LaMar Pond who could sign.

“Rebecca! I almost hit you. What’s wrong?” Miles signed to her in fluent ASL.

“You didn’t see him?” she signed back.

He immediately straightened and peered into the alley she had just exited. “Was someone bothering you?”

“He attacked me. He was waiting in my car. I didn’t notice until I’d already gotten in...”

She couldn’t go on. The trembling started inside and worked itself outward until she was shaking so hard she could barely stand up.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and led her back to the police car. Miles ushered her into the passenger side of the car then reached past her to flip on the hazard lights and grab a flashlight. He switched on the light and shone it back down the alley. Which, as far as she could see, was empty.

Activating the radio hooked to his shoulder, he said something into it. “I called for backup. It should be here soon,” he signed to her when he finished. “You stay here. I’m going to lock the car and have a look around.”

Rebecca started to protest. She didn’t want to be a sitting duck all by herself if her attacker came back. Plus, the idea of being alone was terrifying right now. She wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about going into shock. It was hard to wrap her mind around what was happening.

Miles squatted, putting them on the same level with each other. Switching the flashlight to his left hand, he continued to sign with his right. “Don’t worry. I will wait to canvas your car until help arrives. But I need to make sure he isn’t hiding out nearby. I’ll stay in sight. Okay?”

It made sense. As long as she could see him, there was no reason to panic.

She nodded. Miles swung the door closed. Placing her hand on the door panel, she felt the vibration of the locking mechanism sliding into place. Only then did she relax. Craning her neck, she watched Miles cautiously approach the alley and inspect it for hidden threats.

Several cars passed them. The flashing lights inside the dark car made her imagine shadows that weren’t there. Hurry, please, she thought.

Five minutes later, he jogged back to the car and let himself in.

“I didn’t see anything suspicious. I still need to examine your car. But I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. Let me check on the status of our backup, and we can get this sorted out.”

She nodded to show she understood.

Using the button on the dashboard, he placed the call. “They’ll be here in a minute,” he assured her, then turned off the hazard lights and moved his vehicle over to the side of the street. “I also called for the paramedics. Your throat looks bruised.”

She grimaced, but didn’t argue. Her throat was hurting.

He reached down for a notebook and a pen. “Okay,” he signed. “I need you to tell me everything you can remember. Start at the beginning.”

Sitting forward, she closed her eyes as she racked her brain to figure out the sequence of events. It was easier to focus on what had occurred if she wasn’t looking at him.

“I work at A Novel Idea. I had agreed to close alone tonight. We stay open late on Wednesday nights. My boss, April Long, was going to visit her parents for a few days, or she would have closed with me, the way she usually does. I walked to my car, got in, looked into the rearview mirror—”

Abruptly, she stopped. The memory of those cold eyes glaring back at her had icy fingers running up and down her spine. She dropped her head into her trembling hands.

A hand tapping her left shoulder jolted her out of her fear. Moving her head so her cheek rested on her clasped hands, she glanced over at the cop.

“It’s okay,” he signed. “I know this is hard, but we’ll figure this out.”

Breaking eye contact, he sent a cursory glance down at the notes he had made. “So, did anyone else know what time you were leaving tonight?”

Tilting her head, Rebecca sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it.

“I don’t know. It’s been on the schedule all week. Oh, I did tell one person—I was emailing Jess yesterday about something else, and mentioned that I’d be closing. She offered to have Seth drive me, but I told her I’d be okay.” She pushed back her hair and plowed through the rest. “He was waiting for me inside my car. Tried to choke me. I stabbed him in the eye and tried to escape. But he caught me again.”

Forcing herself to sign slowly and precisely, she described the attack.

“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, he would have gotten me.”

* * *

She could have died. Been kidnapped. Robbed. Beaten. Any number of horrible things could have happened to her.

Miles shoved away the anger that was burning in his gut, tamping it down so it wouldn’t show on his face. She’d been through a traumatic experience and he didn’t want to scare her.

He didn’t know the woman sitting next to him that well. She was close to Jess McGrath, now Jess Travis, and he knew that she and her family had helped Jess and Miles’s friend Seth when they’d been in danger last spring. Thankfully, the ordeal had had a happy ending, with Jess and Seth managing to unmask their attackers—while falling in love with each other in the process.

They’d gotten married not long ago, and Rebecca had been at the wedding, as had Miles. He had even been asked to interpret for her and several other guests who were deaf or hard of hearing, like Rebecca and Jess. He’d assumed, since her brother was Amish, that Rebecca must have been at one time. But he had never tried to find out more. He’d ignored the initial spark of attraction he had experienced when he’d first met her, when Jess had been under attack. It hadn’t been the appropriate time or place. Plus, he couldn’t afford to mess up another case with his rash actions.

By the time the case had been closed, he’d convinced himself it was best to keep his distance. Sure, he could have found where she lived, or asked Jess for a way to contact her. But he had let the opportunity slip away. And anyway, she hadn’t shown any interest in him.

No, he didn’t know her well, but it bothered him when a young woman was victimized. He needed to be careful. He’d let himself act upon his anger once before when involved in a case, and it had almost ruined his career. Even though that time it was personal. Very personal. Couldn’t fall into that trap again. He was still trying to get back into his chief’s good graces.

He asked her a few more questions, trying to get most of the details down while they were waiting.

Red and blue flashing lights caught his attention. A second police cruiser pulled up in front of his, then shifted back to parallel-park against the curb. Good. Jackson was here. And he hadn’t come in hot. Lights, but no siren. If the attacker was still hanging around, there was nothing to cue him that backup had arrived.

“Okay. Sergeant Jackson is here. I’ll have him start looking at your car while we finish this.”

Miles opened his door and stepped out. Turning to Rebecca, he paused and took in her wide blue eyes and troubled face. At least her cheeks seemed to have some color, and her trembling had ceased. She looked calmer. Actually, she looked beautiful. If he hadn’t met her previously, he would not have guessed her background, growing up Amish. Her skirt was long, but it was rust-colored with gold, brown and orange leaves on it. It was pretty on her. He pressed his lips together when his gaze fell on the rip at her knee. Her gold sweater was simple but elegant. Her pale hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just an inch or two below her shoulders. It made him think of summer, the way it shimmered gold.

What? That kind of thinking would get him nowhere.

“Olsen, what do ya know?” Gavin Jackson sauntered toward him. His voice was casual, friendly, but his gaze was in constant motion, sweeping the area for any threats. Keeping it concise, Miles brought him up to speed.

“Rebecca Miller? Hey, I remember her from Travis’s wedding. Cute little thing.” Jackson ducked down to wave at the girl sitting in the car. Miles frowned, not sure why it bothered him to see Jackson smiling at her. But it did.

“Okay, Casanova. Let’s process the scene.”

Jackson’s brows rose, but he made no comment about Miles telling a higher ranking officer what to do. Instead, the man shrugged and shifted back into cop mode.

Between the two of them, they managed to get the scene processed in a relatively short time. Miles kept a close eye on Rebecca. She had refused to sit in the car by herself. To be honest, he preferred having her where he could keep an eye on her. By herself, she wouldn’t be able to hear the attacker return. And even though having her accompany them meant she was out in the open, exposed to another attack, it was hardly likely that her assailant would come back with two officers so close.

When the paramedics arrived, Miles jogged over to interpret for her briefly. He knew the paramedic in charge, a serious blonde woman named Sydney.

Not surprisingly, Rebecca refused to go to the hospital. Sydney didn’t push the issue.

“There’s no bulging around the area. And your color looks good,” Sydney told her as Miles interpreted. “If you have any trouble breathing or opening your mouth, or if swallowing becomes painful, you need to go to the ER. Immediately.”

Rebecca nodded and thanked the woman.

Miles returned to Jackson.

Now they just needed to finish looking over the car, checking to be sure it hadn’t been sabotaged. It was a possibility. Even in the light of day, the alley behind the store was empty. Only businesses. And most of the businesses closed at five. Chances were good that anyone could damage the car without fear of getting caught.

Inside the car, there were no prints, no clues left behind. The attacker had been careful. Except that the back locks had been jimmied. Something was lying on the floorboard. Flashing a light in that direction, he saw Rebecca’s purse. It had been knocked over, the contents spilled everywhere. Why didn’t women use bags that zipped? Seeing her phone, he snatched it up and brought it to her.

“Do you have anyone you can call tonight? Someone to stay with you?”

She nodded. It bothered him to see her so pale and worn. Even her signs were lackluster. “My roommate will be home later. She works until ten. She usually arrives home around eleven.”

“Maybe send her a text. Let her know what happened so she’ll know to come straight home.” He handed her the phone, then left her while she composed the text.

“Pop the hood,” Jackson called, scooting out from his position under the car.

Miles jogged around to the driver’s side and leaned in to pull the lever. The hood released with a small click.

Jackson whistled.

“What?” Miles stepped up beside his colleague.

“Wow.”

The engine had been incapacitated, the spark plugs nowhere to be found. One thing was clear—whoever had attacked Rebecca had wanted to be sure she couldn’t get away.

“Do you think she was specifically targeted?” He took out his cell phone and snapped pictures of the engine. “Could this be random?”

His gut told him no. This kind of attention to detail took forethought and planning.

Jackson was already shaking his head, frowning.

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t, either.” Miles shoved his hands in his pockets, watching Rebecca as she sat on the cement curb. She looked tuckered out. No wonder. “How does this play for you? I think the perp has been watching her for some time. Maybe a few days, maybe longer. It’s possible he picked her because she was deaf. Thought she’d be an easy mark. He knows where she leaves her car, and what hours she works. Chances are he waited here for her.”

“But if April hadn’t left early, he would have had to contend with two women.”

Jackson had a point. He went to Rebecca and posed the question. A minute later he was back.

“Not necessarily. Rebecca said April usually parked in the parking garage across the street. All he would have needed to do was stay down until she was out of sight.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

The quiet was broken with a ridiculously raucous ringtone coming from his watch. Jackson’s brows rose in amusement. Miles brought up his wrist and fumbled with the buttons, mumbling an apology. He’d left his earpiece in the car, so he moved slightly away from Jackson. It was the chief.

“Olsen here.”

“Report, Officer Olsen,” the chief of police ordered.

“Sir, the perp is gone and has left no traces we could find. He disabled the car, though. It needs to be towed. Jackson and I think he’s been watching Rebecca for a while.”

“Rebecca?” There wasn’t any censure in the chief’s tone, just mild curiosity.

“Sorry, sir. Miss Miller. I know her. Anyhow, we don’t yet know why she was targeted.”

“Ahh.” He could picture the chief nodding as he leaned back in his swivel chair. “Even if the perp was watching her, it might have still been a random attack. Maybe he noticed she drove alone and parked in the alley and thought she looked like an easy mark.”

“Sir, I’m going to drive Miss Miller home, and then come in and file paperwork.”

“Very well. Does she have someone she could stay with?”

Miles cast a concerned glance toward her. Her arms were crossed on the top of her knees, and her head was down.

“Miles?”

Huh? Oh, right.

“Yes. She has a roommate. I had her text the woman and let her know what was going on.”

“Good. I’m glad she’ll have someone there for her,” the chief responded in a smooth drawl.

Miles thought for a second, deciding his next move. “I also think we should try to get the visual artist in as soon as she’s available to see if she can remember any details that might get some hits on the database. Oh, and see if the interpreter is available.”

“If not, you could interpret if she waives her right to a certified interpreter.”

Miles frowned. “Yes, sir. Although I think it would be better to have someone certified.”

People didn’t always understand that managing direct communication in sign language and interpreting at a professional level were two totally different skills. Just because someone could speak the language didn’t mean they could expertly translate it into English.

“I agree. But interpreters are very hard to come by.”

“Yes, sir. I will try to get all that scheduled ASAP.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” A pause. “Miles, I’m going to put you in charge of this case.”

“Sir?” His heart thumped in his chest.

“You’ve been doing good work since you came back. I want to find this perp. And I think you’ve proven you can handle the responsibility. Plus, you can communicate directly with our victim, so that makes you the natural candidate.”

“Thank you. I will do my best.”

He tapped the face of the watch, disconnecting the call, joy bursting through his body. His first case as the lead. The chief trusted him again—he could finally put his past mistakes behind him. This had been a long time coming.

Then he looked at Rebecca, and some of the joy faded. As proud as he was to be lead in the case, he hated the idea that his victory came with the price of her horrible attack.

She was so vulnerable. Just like his stepsister, Sylvie, had been. Suppose this wasn’t a one-time attack? Suppose the perp was a stalker, fixated on Rebecca? He would have his work cut out for him, finding the perp before he struck again. Oh, he’d been in on tough investigations before. Chief Paul Kennedy had been slowly giving him more and more responsibility as he had shown he could be relied on.

For some reason, though, this responsibility seemed heavier. Because it was quite likely that the beautiful young woman sitting a few feet away was still in danger.

TWO

The trip to Rebecca’s apartment was a quiet one. She’d given him the address, and off they went. Since he was familiar with the area, he didn’t need to take the time to plug the address into his GPS.

The trip was silent, but not uncomfortable. Rebecca had calmed down. Once they were ensconced in his vehicle and moving away from the scene, the tension in her shoulders and face seemed to have eased. She wasn’t happy, but neither was she panicked. Which was good.

As for Miles, he appreciated the silence. It gave him a chance to process the events of the evening and get a hold of his own emotions. He couldn’t help but worry about how she was handling the pressure, though. He turned to look at her—her expression was smooth, unruffled. Could she really be that calm? He would have expected more panic, or at least signs of discomfort. He’d seen the bruises on her neck—they had to be hurting.

Get a grip, Olsen. She’s not your sister. She’s strong. And now she’s your case. Keep it professional.

He was so involved in his own thoughts, he almost missed the entrance to her apartment complex. Good thing Windy Hill Apartments had a large sign out by the road. Grimacing, he shifted on his blinker and spun the wheel at the last second, swerving hard into the driveway. In his periphery, he saw Rebecca put her hand on the dashboard to brace herself.

Bet that impressed her. Not.

What an awful parking lot to come into at night. It had one light, right in front of the entrance. But the rest was dark, the corners in the lot merging into the shadows and trees. Anyone could hide out in those shadows, and she wouldn’t be aware of it until it was too late. Rebecca wouldn’t be able to hear any telltale sounds that might warn her of impending danger.

Great. Now he was getting paranoid on her behalf.

He parked the cruiser under the light and switched off the ignition. Turning to face Rebecca, he paused when he saw her pensive glance. Her eyebrows squished together and her lips tightened. She flickered her gaze around the dark edges of the lot. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one who found the place unsettling.

He tapped her on the shoulder once, to get her attention.

She glanced nervously at him. She was definitely disturbed by something.

“What’s wrong?” he signed, folding his three middle fingers down over his palm while extending his thumb and little finger, then tapping the folded part against his chin.

She pointed to a window on the second floor. The curtains were open, and the lights were out. “That’s my apartment. My roommate isn’t home yet.” Using the one-handed ASL alphabet, she finger-spelled her roommate’s name. Holly Fletcher. “I knew she wouldn’t be, but—”

“You are nervous about entering an empty apartment?” He raised his eyebrows and crooked the index finger of his right hand in a question mark.

“Yes.”

She didn’t look happy about admitting it. But at least she wasn’t denying it.

“No problem. I will walk up with you and make sure it’s all clear.”

Nodding, she turned from him to get out of the car. But not before he saw the relieved smile that swept over her face.

Wow, she sure was pretty. Yeah, so not going there. Even though she was.

Back to work, Miles. You have a job to do. And then you need to leave.

Shoving those dangerous thoughts from his mind, he focused on the task at hand. He waited as she tapped in the five-digit entry code. Although not foolproof, the added security measure did make him feel better about her safety here. They climbed the single flight of stairs and walked to her apartment. When Rebecca moved to unlock the door, Miles held out a hand to stop her. Startled, she moved her gaze to his, her brows rising in a question.

“Give me your keys,” he signed.

She dropped them in his open palm. He motioned for her to move back. As soon as she was away from the door, he leaned closer to listen for movement inside the apartment. Nothing. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could and signed for her to wait while he checked out the apartment. Her eyes widened as he removed his gun from the holster.

“Just a precaution,” he signed.

Keeping his weapon at the ready, he moved through the apartment, checking each room. The kitchen was spotless. No sign of any disturbance. The first bedroom was clear. It was clean, like the kitchen, but he knew at once it was the friend’s room rather than Rebecca’s. Pictures of the attractive brunette with a hodgepodge of people and in a variety of settings covered the large corkboard on the wall, with some in frames on the desk and dresser.

The next room was obviously Rebecca’s. The contrast was startling. The room was clean, but the decor was sparse. There were a couple of pictures. They all looked very recent, none dating back earlier than four or five years ago. And why would there be? The Amish didn’t take pictures. Against the far wall, there was a large oil painting. It clearly showed a white farmhouse with a black Amish buggy in the front. It was so realistic, it looked like someone could reach out and open the door of the buggy. He peered closer to see the artist’s signature, then whistled softly. Rebecca Miller. Wow. She had some mad talent.

On the desk under the window was an open laptop and several textbooks. A GED certificate was prominently displayed on the wall. That’s right, he thought. The Amish only go to school through eighth grade. Right next to that was a college diploma. She had a bachelor’s degree in art. It was awarded this past spring.

Giving in to his curiosity, Miles peered closer at the books. They covered topics ranging from the deaf community to the study of ASL and ethics and practices with interpreting for the deaf. Rebecca apparently aspired to get a CDI certificate. He’d only ever met one Certified Deaf Interpreter. They were highly sought after in improving communication with the deaf community in official settings. Good for her.

Returning to the living room, he found Rebecca standing inside the door, her back against the living room wall. Made sense. If you couldn’t hear, you didn’t want to leave yourself vulnerable to attacks from behind. Again.

“Nothing here. Are you sure you’re all right? I can stay until your roommate gets back.”

She was shaking her head before his hands stopped moving. “I’m fine. Thank you so much for checking. I feel silly, but I appreciate it.”

He stepped closer to her and put his hand on hers to stop the apology, then pulled his hand back at the zing that shot up his arm. Her shocked expression told him all he needed to know. She had felt it, too, and by the look of the frown stamped on her pretty features, wasn’t any happier about it than he was. Good. That meant she wouldn’t expect anything. He ignored the twinge of disappointment.

He couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved with anyone. Emotions had almost cost him his job once. In the end, he had kept his job, but had lost his rank as sergeant. That fact was brought home every time he put on his uniform without the insignia. All he wanted was to earn it back.

“I don’t mind checking. I wanted to make sure you were safe.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost ten now. Your roommate should be here in an hour. Let’s trade numbers, and you can text me if you need anything. I’ll text you to let you know if we have any leads.”

They exchanged phones. He put in his number, then snapped a selfie so that she’d have a visual in her contacts. Oh, wait. Amish. He flicked a glance in her direction. She was shaking her head at him, a half smirk forming on her lips. Her face had more color in it now, he was glad to note. Her earlier pallor had bothered him.

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I can delete the picture if you want me to. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” She snapped a selfie of herself on his phone. “I’m not Amish anymore.”

Amused, he chuckled. She was absolutely adorable. He took back his phone and synced it with his watch.

“I have never met anyone who left the Amish community before,” he signed. Then he wondered if that statement bordered on rude. Although, bluntness was all part and parcel of deaf culture, so maybe she’d take it in stride.

She shrugged, her face rueful. “Not many do. It was a tough decision, but in the end it was for the best.” She shifted her eyes past him, thinking. “I was the only deaf person in my family. My parents are great, but they never really learned to sign fluently. ASL is a hard language to learn, and there weren’t that many opportunities for them to learn it in the community. They speak Pennsylvania Dutch and English at home. I was caught between three languages. Out of my family, only my brother Levi and my sister Lizzy can really sign to me. In my classes every day, I’d have a few people I could speak with easily, but then I’d come home and have to struggle to understand and be understood. It grew worse after I left school. There were no interpreters. I think my parents accepted my leaving because they knew that I didn’t even understand what was happening at church. In the English world, though, I could be part of the deaf community. I had friends, and I was able to be a full participant.”

He nodded. “My grandparents and uncle are deaf. They are very involved with the deaf community.”

“So that’s why you sign so well! I had wondered.”

“Yeah. I grew up with it.” He tilted his head. “Do you regret leaving?”

“No. I love my family, and I am grateful to still have a relationship with them. In fact, my oldest brother, Levi, is getting married in a week. On Thursday. I will be there. But someday, I want to get married, and I want my husband to be able to communicate with me. And if I have deaf children, I want them to have full access to the deaf community.” She moved away a couple of feet. Restless. “Want to know what was really sad? Until a few years ago, I never even knew that Amish children say ‘mam and dat,’ instead of ‘mom and dad.’” She finger-spelled the Amish versions of the words. “I’ve never been good at lipreading, and wasn’t able to really see the difference when I watched my siblings say the words. In my head, I always see the sign for ‘mother and father,’ but when I wrote, I wrote ‘mom and dad.’ Like the other kids at school. Levi read something I had written a few years back and pointed it out to me. He also took the time to teach me the written words and meanings of some of the other Amish words that were used daily, but that I never knew. I have taken pains to try to think of them as mam and dat, knowing that’s how they would prefer to be called, but it wasn’t automatic for me.”

The urge to touch her hand, to offer comfort, sneaked up on him. He resisted. But it was difficult. The aloneness emanating from her posture as she signed just about killed him.

She’s not alone now, he reminded himself. She has friends in the deaf community. She has her faith. And her family does love her.

And she has me.

No. She doesn’t. I’m temporary. And I have stayed too long.

Lifting his wrist, he eyed the time on his digital watch. And whistled. It was later than he had thought.

“I need to go. Text me if you need anything,” he signed with one hand, pocketing the phone. “And lock the door behind you.”

She rolled her eyes, but complied without comment.

The second she had closed and locked the door, he was on his way to the station. It would take him twenty minutes to get there. If he worked fast, he should be able to have all his reports filed and all his duties completed by the time his shift ended at midnight. Unless, of course, another call came in. Wednesday nights were usually pretty quiet in LaMar Pond. He should be good.

An hour and a half later, he finished his reports.

With his work completed, his mind turned back to Rebecca. Had her roommate arrived home yet? Maybe he should send her a text to check on her. He quickly shot off a text.

Then he occupied himself while pretending he wasn’t watching for a responding text. None came. No doubt her roommate had returned. She was no longer alone. Wilting back against his seat, he let out a sigh. It was after eleven thirty. Chances were good that she was asleep, or that she and her roommate were talking about the night’s events and not paying attention to the phone.

Everything was fine.

But it wouldn’t hurt to check on her in the morning, just to be sure.

* * *

Rebecca came awake with a start, heart pounding. Her hands flew to her throat—she could still feel hands closing around it. But as awareness seeped back in, she realized it was just a dream. No one was attacking her. She sat up, knocking a pillow off the couch in the process. A wave of dizziness attacked her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply until the dizziness passed. When she could open her eyes again, she frowned. She was still in her skirt from work. She had fallen asleep after texting with her brother.

He didn’t have a phone, so she had used the videophone to call one of her parents’ neighbors who had agreed to let Rebecca’s family know what had happened and that she was fine. Which had resulted in a long conversation with her brother. It took some doing, but she finally convinced him that she was okay and didn’t need anyone to come to LaMar Pond.

A quick glance at the clock showed it was just past six in the morning.

She hadn’t intended to spend the night on the couch. Why had Holly let her sleep? Her roommate usually woke her up if she fell asleep there. The couch was for sitting, not for sleeping. Holly had very definite views about that. So why change?

Rebecca stood and groaned as her back protested. Good grief, she was twenty-five, not seventy-five. She smiled at her silliness, then turned toward the bedrooms.

And every trace of her smile was wiped from her face.

Holly’s door was wide open. As if Holly wasn’t home.

Fear in her throat, Rebecca moved on leaden feet to the bedroom and flicked on the light.

The bed was made. Not a thing was out of place. The room was perfect. It made Rebecca’s blood run cold.

Holly had never come home.

Her phone! There could be a text waiting for her. Maybe Holly had decided to visit her sister again. She had done it before.

Rebecca knew she was reaching. Holly always came home when she had class the next day. She worked so hard to keep her grades up at the small liberal arts college she attended—she wouldn’t risk that to go visit her party-all-night sister. Except, sometimes Laurie hit rock bottom and pleaded with Holly until she felt guilty and went over. So there was a small chance. A very small chance, but it was the only hope Rebecca had to hold on to.

She hit the button on her phone and her heart thudded in her chest. One notification. She pressed the text icon. It was from Miles, sent late last night. Any warmth she might have felt that he had checked on her was drowned out by the knowledge that Holly hadn’t sent her a text. Holly always sent a text if she would be late. She knew how much Rebecca worried. Holly worried just as much about any situation where Rebecca might be in harm’s way. And why shouldn’t she? She’d been there. They both had. For days, they had sat together, shackled in the dark, locked in that same small room. Waiting, as terror fogged their minds while hunger gnawed at their bellies.

But Holly and Rebecca had survived. Not all of them had.

Jasmine Winters hadn’t made it out in time. She’d been strangled, mere hours before the police had broken through the basement door. They had all wondered who would be next...

No!

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists as she pushed that memory out of her mind. The darkness that tried to ooze into her mind didn’t belong there. Not anymore. She’d banished that years ago, when she’d testified. When she and the other girls had put away their captor.

The memory of the trial made her shiver more. Would she never forget the face of their tormentor? He had been on his way to prison, and still he had held such control over the women he had terrorized. And he had known it.

He had control over her still—was still the face in her nightmares. What should she do?

Miles! He would probably check to see if she had responded to his earlier text. And he was a police officer. He’d know what to do about Holly.

Unlocking her phone, she pulled up his text. Her fingers trembled as she tapped out a message of her own, explaining the situation. She curled her lip as the auto correct kicked in, messing up a word of her message. She erased the word and started again. Many people would have sent the text anyway, trusting that he would understand. But this was too important. Plus, if she was honest with herself, she knew that people expected mistakes in her English, both because she had been Amish, and because she was deaf. It never failed to gall her. She hit Send.

Then waited.

And worried.

She tried to sit back down on the couch, but couldn’t stay still. She bounced back up on her feet. She felt icky. Glancing down at herself, she grimaced. Not only was she still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but her skirt was torn and wrinkled. And what if Miles decided to stop by when he got her text? She couldn’t be seen this way. Ignoring the part of her that questioned why it mattered how she looked, she showered and dressed in clean jeans and an oversized royal blue sweater.

She checked her phone again. Still no word from Miles.

It was almost seven. She sent him another text, just in case the first hadn’t gone through, then dragged out the Crock-Pot and started making chili. After she had the meat, beans and spices simmering, she stepped back and smirked at herself. What had she been thinking? She’d made enough to feed her parents and five sisters and brothers, when it was just she and Holly who lived in the apartment.

Holly.

Immediately, her mind was back in the middle of the current nightmare.

She glanced at her phone. The light was blinking. Maybe it was Miles. She clicked on the message, and his face appeared. The intensity of his blue eyes caught her unawares. Her breath caught in her throat. Those piercing eyes set in his honest face had attracted her from the first time she’d seen him. If only...

But it was no use. A man like him, strong and decent, wouldn’t be interested in someone damaged like herself. Some of the members of her own community had been disgusted by what had happened to her all those years ago, even though she hadn’t been to blame.

Besides, after what she had gone through, after what she had seen, she needed security in her life. A policeman who put himself in danger every day, no matter how handsome he was or how great he signed, was not on her list of possible mates.

Forcing her mind to accept the reality of her situation, she read his text.

Be there at 7:40. Jackson coming, too.

It was seven fifteen now. The sun was just starting to come up. She had almost half an hour. She’d go crazy just sitting here. To give herself something to do, she set about cleaning her already spotless apartment.

The light in the hall flashed. Someone was at the door. It had to be Miles and Jackson. The cautiousness she’d learned as a teenager wouldn’t let her open the door without checking the peephole. Two men dressed in dark blue uniforms stood in the hall. She recognized the LaMar Pond uniforms. Miles and Sergeant Jackson. With a sigh of relief, she swung open the door.

The relief drained out of her when she saw how they looked. The tension emanating from the two men crackled like a live wire. She instinctively stepped back from them. Keeping her distance, she searched for clues in Miles’s expression as he entered the apartment. The morning sunlight streaming in from the windows emphasized his serious expression. The downward curve of his mouth. The set of his strong jaw. Both spoke of a man on a mission. And an unpleasant one at that. Something bad had happened.

Fear lay in a leaden ball in her stomach. Please, Lord, let everything be all right. Even as she prayed, though, she knew everything was not all right. Something had happened to Holly. What? Sweat slicked her palms. She was about to find out.

THREE

Her throat was dry. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

Miles nodded, then turned to say something to Jackson. She was fairly certain he was relaying her message to the other officer. In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then held it up with a questioning look. Did they want one? Both officers shook their heads. Fine. She uncapped it and took a long swallow. It made her throat feel better, but nothing else felt any relief.

Her stomach hurt. Not sick hurt. Scared hurt. The way it always had as a child. The way it had when she’d been held against her will ten years ago.

She scraped back a chair at the table and sat down across from Miles.

“Can you understand okay if I switch to pidgin? That will make it easier to keep Jackson in the loop.”

She nodded. Pidgin sign language used mostly ASL signs, but put them in English word order. This way, the signer was able to speak and sign at the same time. Not optimal, but she could follow along.

“Rebecca, I got your text this morning. I drove by the parking lot of the restaurant Holly works at. Her car was in the lot. But she was nowhere to be found. The manager said that she had left after she’d finished her prep work for the morning shift. That was around ten thirty. She never came back in. When he saw her car this morning, he thought she must have had car trouble and had someone pick her up.”

What? That was absurd. If she’d left her car, she would have let them know so it wouldn’t get towed. How could they not have realized something was wrong?

But she knew she couldn’t really blame the manager. Holly’s behavior at times was a bit erratic. She had already lost two jobs in the past for being unreliable. Mostly because she’d drop everything if her sister needed her.

“Her car was in disarray. Like someone had been shuffling through her things. Would she have left a mess if she was trying to find something?”

Judging from the skepticism scrawled across his face and seeping into his signs, Miles didn’t think so. And Rebecca agreed. Her heart sank.

“Holly would never leave her things cluttered or messy,” Rebecca informed him. His mouth was moving as he told Jackson what she said. She continued, “Disorder of any kind bothered her. I sometimes tease her that if there was a fire she’d make her bed before leaving the building.”

The joke had made people laugh before. Not anymore.

“I want you to look at this picture,” Miles signed. “Is this the vehicle she would have driven to work yesterday?” He tapped the screen on his phone, then flipped it around so she could see the picture he brought up. It was a white Jeep. He swiped his finger across the screen. A second picture of the back of the vehicle. The familiar vanity license plate came into view.

She swallowed. Nodded. Any hope she’d entertained that there might have been some mistake disintegrated. Something caught her eye.

“Wait, what’s that?” She pointed to a large blot of color on the side of the car. It was a dark smear. It hadn’t been there the day before. It looked like paint. Or...

A wave of nausea hit her, causing her to sway. “Is that blood?”

Miles hesitated. But the answer was on his face even before he nodded.

Holly wasn’t just missing—she was hurt. Why, Lord? Hadn’t she suffered enough?

She pushed back from the table, stood and moved to the sink. She gripped the counter with both hands, so hard her fingers hurt. Her control was slipping. The trembling started in her insides and worked its way outward. The view out of the window above the sink blurred.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder. Miles’s fresh scent washed over her a second later. Without thought, she turned and burrowed into Miles’s shoulder, fighting back tears. He patted her awkwardly on the back.

What was she doing?

Stepping away, she wiped at her moist eyes. More to give herself a moment to regain control than because she was crying. As she wiped her sleeve across her eyes, she gathered up the courage to face him. The compassion she saw in his expression was almost her undoing. Almost. But she was made of stronger stuff.

“Sorry,” she signed.

He shrugged. “Not a problem. It’s a completely natural reaction. Here’s what we need to do. I need to bring you into the station to ask—”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong!”

He raised his hands, made a calm-down motion. “I know. We just have some questions for you, and they should be answered at the station so that we can bring in a certified interpreter to make sure there’s no confusion or misinterpretation.”

What? she thought. “You sign. Your ASL is beautiful.”

She watched, fascinated, as his ears turned bright red. It would have been cute in other circumstances. “Thanks. But it’s the law. You need a certified interpreter. Unless you agree to accept me as the interpreter for now.”

She sagged back against the counter. “Fine. I accept. I don’t want to go to the police station. What do you need to know?”

Miles took his seat back at the table. Reluctantly, she moved to sit down again.

The conversation started very generally. Age, birthday, job. Then it got more specific. Where did Holly grow up? Who did she live with?

“How did you meet Holly?”

“We went to the same school for years. Holly was a year ahead of me.”

Jackson said something to Miles, who interpreted, translating it into sign. “You grew up in Spartansburg, right?” She nodded. “You lived in different districts. How did you go to the same school?”

She cocked her head at the officer. “Holly is hard of hearing. We were both bused out of district so we could attend the deaf program.”

“Have either of you had an issue with violent boyfriends, or threats? Anyone hold a grudge against either of you at work?” Miles again.

She paused. “No.”

But what about before? Was it relevant?

He waved his hand, drawing her attention back to him.

“If there’s something that might be related, we need to know.”

She drew a large gulp of oxygen into her lungs. She hated talking about this, and hadn’t for years. Not even to Jess. But now she had to. Because Holly was in trouble.

“Ten years ago, when I was fifteen, I went out with Holly and three other girls from her school. Ashley Kline, Brooke Cole and Jasmine Winters. Ashley and Jasmine were older and had just graduated. Ashley was driving her mother’s van and pulled over to help some guy who seemed to have broken down on the side of the road.”

Abruptly, she stood and moved away from the officers. Memories of that day pulled at her, dragging her under. So much bad had come from one simple act of charity—stopping to help a stranger. Miles slowly got to his feet.

“Maybe we should go to the station.”

She shook her head. She could do this. “No, I’m fine. There was just one man. He looked innocent enough. But he wasn’t. He hadn’t broken down. He was high on drugs and had stolen the car. When we stopped, he pulled out a gun and forced his way into the van and drove us to his house. He kept us locked up in the basement for two days. Until we were found.”

She stopped. The memories were hitting hard and fast now. Overwhelming her. She could feel the cement wall against her back, smell the damp moldy basement.

Miles approached her carefully, as if he expected her to bolt. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he signed. “And I hate that I have to ask you to relive it, but—”

“I understand,” she interrupted. “It’s for Holly.”

“The man who abducted you, do you remember his name?”

As if she could ever forget. “Terry Gleason.”

“Terry as in Terrence?”

She shook her head. “Just plain Terry.”

Miles turned his head. Sergeant Jackson must have asked something. Miles nodded and then returned his focus to her. “The other girls, did they know the man?”

“I think some of them might have known him. Jasmine seemed to. She was the oldest. Already eighteen. And possibly Ashley. I don’t know about Brooke. But I don’t know from where. I didn’t really know the other girls. And none of them could sign. Only Holly.”

“You said you were fifteen? Did you still go to school together?” Miles pressed his lips together. She could almost see the thoughts running through his mind.

“No. I was still Amish back then so I only went to school through eighth grade.” Regret surfaced, but she pushed away the feeling. Now was not the time. “The deaf program was a small group of students in a public school with a teacher of the deaf. Most of us went to her for Language Arts. The rest of the day, we were in classes with hearing kids and interpreters. Jess, Holly and I were the only three girls in the program. Jess left soon after I did to go back to her home school. That’s when Holly started to hang out with the older girls. I met her again a few years later. I was in the middle of my Rumspringa.” She signed “running around,” using the direct translation. That was the only sign for the word she knew.

“Whatever happened to the man who kidnapped you girls? Please tell me he went to jail.”

She nodded. “He went to jail. So it probably wasn’t him. I testified at the trial. My parents did not want me to. Law enforcement and trials are not something Amish people usually get involved with. But I couldn’t not testify.”

Miles nodded, sympathy deep in his eyes. “Did all five of you testify?”

The dark hole she kept closed in her mind started to open, letting a few images spill into her brain. She slammed it shut, but some things could never be unseen. “Not all of us. Jasmine was strangled the day we were rescued.”

Miles paled. His jaw hardened. Jackson’s lip curled and his nostrils flared.

“I had never seen such evil. He left the rest of us after he had killed her. The police came while he was gone. Two officers. He came in behind them and attacked them with a bat. After one fell, the other knocked him down and handcuffed him. I didn’t learn until the trial that the other officer had died from a blow to the head.”

The officers looked at each other. Some kind of communication went between them. Their expressions darkened.

Miles puffed out his cheeks. She thought he resembled a blond chipmunk. Then he let out the breath and her pulse fluttered. This was no cute little boy. The man who stood before her was all cop, and his eyes were fierce. She trembled at the way his gaze sharpened.

“I need to find out what happened to that man. And if he is still in jail. That was ten years ago, so there is a chance he’s free now. Not a very good one, seeing as an officer and one of the girls died. But I’m not comfortable not knowing everything.”

Miles asked a few more questions, making sure he had the names of the other girls spelled correctly, and that he had the dates written down both of when they were taken and when they were found. Then he closed his notebook. “Our focus now is finding Holly. We’ll pull Holly’s driver’s license photo from the database. Send it around to see if anyone recognizes her.”

“Wait.” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “That picture is almost four years old. She’s lost weight and changed her hair.”

Darting back into Holly’s room, she grabbed Holly’s tablet and clicked on the photo app. She used her finger to scroll through the pictures until she found the one she wanted. Perfect. It was recent enough that it had Holly’s new trendy haircut.

She rejoined Miles and Sergeant Jackson at the table and handed over the tablet.

Miles took the tablet and held it so Jackson could see it, too. “That’s Holly,” she signed, and pointed at the laughing girl. Miles smiled, but his eyes narrowed. He had something else on his mind.

A second later, he proved her right. He tapped a second picture. When it filled the screen, he pointed to the girl next to Holly and signed, “Who’s this?”

“That’s Ashley. It must have been taken a few years ago, because she and Holly don’t hang out anymore. They had some kind of argument over a man they had both dated.”

“Ashley—” he checked his notebook “—Kline? Holly’s friend from high school?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

He handed the device to Sergeant Jackson, continuing to sign as he spoke so that Rebecca would know what he was saying.

“Do you recognize her? I know I have seen her face somewhere, but can’t place it.”

Sergeant Jackson took the tablet and studied the photo. A frown etched itself into his face as he considered the image.

“Yeah, I have seen her before. But I don’t know where. We need to get the pictures to the station, have them compared to the database. Could you email these images to us? Or maybe we could take the tablet, in case there are better images?”

Miles’s hands flew as he interpreted. When he finished, Rebecca nodded. “Will Holly get the tablet back?”

Miles exchanged glances with Jackson. “If it’s at all possible, we’ll return it,” he signed. What he didn’t add was that it all depended on if they found Holly alive. It was in their expressions. She shivered. Please, let Holly be okay.

“I’m going to send those pics in now, actually,” Miles interjected. Jackson raised his eyebrow. “That way they can start looking for Holly, and run a search on Ashley. But we will still need to hold on to the device, just in case.”

Rebecca took the tablet back and shared the selected images in a text with Miles.

He pulled out his phone and looked at the images. Then he fiddled with his phone some more. “Done. I sent them in.” He put the phone back in his pocket.

His watch lit up. She started. She recognized it as one of those new high-tech watches. It was neon green. Funny. She didn’t often see people her age wearing watches. Watching his blond hair flop on his forehead, she decided it fit him.

“Lieutenant Tucker says he got the pictures and will make sure they are processed.” His watch lit up again. He tapped it and read the message. “He also says that the visual artist can be there later this morning. You can come in and give her a description of your attacker. Maybe you’ll remember something that will help us find him. We should head out. Jackson?”

The other officer nodded once, then got to his feet to head to the door. Miles stood as well, but instead of walking away, he moved toward her. He leaned forward, so close she caught the clean, sharp scent of him. No cologne, just soap, shampoo and Miles. “I can tell you this. I find it doubtful that you and your roommate would be attacked the same night by accident. Someone is after you. We just have to figure out who.”

* * *

It took some doing, but Miles was finally able to convince Rebecca to come to the police station with him to give a description to the visual artist. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help. Turning to the police just seemed to be awkward for her. Growing up, her community didn’t go for outside help easily. He understood that. Even though she’d left the Amish community, she was still very close with her family. Those influences would be hard for her to overcome.

He also had a sneaking suspicion that her experiences with the legal system at the age of fifteen didn’t help. He knew from watching the trial after his stepsister was murdered that people could be brutal to innocents. Especially the press.

He remembered the agony his father had gone through after his mother had been killed in such a sensational manner. He’d only been four, but some memories stayed with you forever. He shuddered as he remembered the way his father had been hounded by reporters, who wanted to know more about the famous model who’d died in a car crash while running off with another man. Leaving her child behind.

His father had become a broken man. But he’d had the wisdom to send his only child to live with his parents and younger brother. Spending the next two years with his father’s deaf relatives had sheltered him from the worst of the drama, and connected him to a community he wouldn’t have learned about otherwise.

“Hey, catch you later.” Jackson sketched a casual wave and sauntered to his own car. Miles jerked back, grateful to be pulled out of his morbid memories.

“See you.” Miles opened the passenger-side door for Rebecca, then jogged around to his own side.

As soon as the door shut, she turned to face him.

“Do you really think someone kidnapped Holly?”

How to answer that? Miles wasn’t into giving false hope, but he also didn’t want to escalate the situation with unsubstantiated theories. “I think we need to consider all the possibilities.” There. How was that for diplomacy?

She wrinkled her nose. “But if it was the same person, why wasn’t I kidnapped when that man attacked me last night?”

He twisted his body so he could give her his full attention. “I don’t want to scare you. But we have no idea what your attacker would have done if you had not escaped. He may have meant to knock you unconscious and then kidnap you all along.” She raised her hands, and he motioned for her to wait. “I don’t have the answers yet. I intend to get them. Please, can you trust me a little longer?”

She didn’t like it. He could see that, but she relented and let him start the car.

Twenty-five minutes later, he pulled into the station. As he led her into the building, he could see her shoulders stiffen. Her arms were folded in typical closed-off body language. He wished she would look at him, just so that he could send her a comforting look, or try to make small talk. Anything to make the situation easier. But she wouldn’t look anywhere but straight ahead.

In the conference room, he saw that the interpreter had already arrived. Miles introduced the two women. Rebecca stared at the brunette with the edgy haircut with something akin to suspicion.

“Olsen!”

Lieutenant Jace Tucker approached, his forehead heavily creased. Uh-oh. Whatever happened, Miles wasn’t sure he wanted to know about it. Jace Tucker was known for his no-nonsense attitude. He was also fair-minded. A man who commanded respect. Most of all, he was good at remaining calm and impartial, rarely letting his emotions show while he was working. That he looked visibly upset right now was a very bad sign.

“Yes, sir?”

“Is Miss Miller in there?”

What was this about? “Yes. I just brought her in to meet with the visual artist. She hasn’t arrived yet.”

Lieutenant Tucker craned his neck toward the room where he’d left the two women. Miles followed his gaze. The women were sitting quietly. Rebecca was staring straight at them. The lieutenant motioned for Miles to follow him. Instincts in high alert, Miles walked with him. They went into Lieutenant Tucker’s office and shut the door. It took some effort, but Miles stood at attention, waiting for the other man to begin.

“We might have a witness to the attack on Holly,” Lieutenant Tucker began.

Every muscle in Miles’s body tightened.

“One of the tenants in the apartment across the street saw a man approach her as she was getting in her car. She couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a mask. But she was able to clearly see that he grabbed the young woman. She struggled, then sagged. He carried her to a van and drove off.”

“Did she get a make? Model? Plate number?” The questions burst out of him. He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried. Granted, he didn’t try.

Lieutenant Tucker shook his head, the regret stamped across his somber face. “Sorry, Olsen. I wish she had. She had just taken out her contacts, and everything was blurry. The only reason she recognized Holly was because she went into the restaurant often and was familiar with all the employees.”

He kept a lid on his disappointment. It was more information than they’d had five minutes ago. “So, on the positive side, we know two things. She was abducted and didn’t leave under her own power. And, more importantly, we know she may be alive.”

“Third,” Lieutenant Tucker added, “it solidifies our suspicion that Miss Miller was attacked by the same person, given that the two women were both attacked by a man wearing a dark ski mask. And there’s more.”

How much more could Rebecca take? His gut tightened as Tucker gave him the rest of the news.

“How much can I tell Rebecca?”

The lieutenant hesitated. “I think we should go ahead and tell her everything. She needs to understand that this is a focused attack so she can stay vigilant.”

Miles agreed, though he so didn’t want to be the one to tell her and see that lovely face fill with fear. But, the flip side of that was he didn’t want her to get the information through an interpreter, whose code of ethics stated she was there only to relay information. That would be such a cold way to learn such hard news.

No, he’d better tell her himself. And he needed to do it now. Waiting wouldn’t make the news any easier.

Nodding to the lieutenant, he left the office and made his way back to the conference room. To his surprise, the other officer followed him. Taking in a deep breath outside the door, he hardened his resolve and opened the door.

And found himself looking straight into Rebecca’s face. He and Lieutenant Tucker moved into the room. The lieutenant sat at the table. Miles moved to stand next to Rebecca. He nodded briefly at Tara, the visual artist, who’d arrived while he was talking with the lieutenant. Then he moved his gaze back to Rebecca.

Her gaze narrowed as she searched his face. He tried to school his features into a blank expression.

“What happened?” she signed.

He needed to work on his cop face.

“I will sign for myself,” he informed the interpreter. “But I would appreciate it if you would voice what I sign for the benefit of the other people in the room.” That way he could turn off his voice and switch totally to ASL instead of the pidgin he was using before.

Without displaying a flicker of surprise, she folded her hands into her lap.

“I was just informed we might have a break in the case,” he signed, then went on to relate the first part of his conversation with Lieutenant Tucker—the information about the witness—to her. The only sound in the room was the low voice of the interpreter.

“So, she might be alive.”

“I’m not going to say yes. I am going to say that I’m almost convinced my original thought was correct. I think your attacker meant to abduct you, as well.”

“I concur,” Lieutenant Tucker agreed after the interpreter finished voicing Miles’s words.

Miles wasn’t done. There was no way to soften it. Better to just tell her outright. Sucking in a breath, he prepared to deliver the devastating blow. He then told her the rest of what he and the lieutenant had discussed. “You remember the pictures you sent me? Holly and Ashley? I told you that I recognized Ashley.”

Dread shifted into her face. She squirmed slightly in her seat. He thought she looked like she was getting ready to run. Unfortunately, there was no escape from this nightmare.

“We found a match for her in the database. Two weeks ago, a woman matching Ashley’s description was found unconscious in Cleveland. She’d been stabbed. The assumption is that either her attacker was interrupted, or he thought she was dead when he abandoned her.”

Rebecca swallowed hard. Her lips trembled. She bit them. “Was her attacker the same person? The person who took Holly? And attacked me?”

She looked so forlorn. Tears were tracking down Rebecca’s pale cheeks. Otherwise, her slim body was still. Shocked. He wanted to comfort her. But there was nothing he could do for her. Nothing except find whomever was responsible and put him away.

“It’s possible, but there’s a lot we don’t know. We don’t even know where exactly she was attacked. The police believe she was moved from the original scene. Until now, they had nothing to go on. No one had reported her missing. I have ordered additional precautions at the hospital, just in case her attacker gets the dumb idea to go after her again. Hopefully, she’ll regain consciousness and be able to give us more to go on.”

Suddenly, she gasped. “Brooke! Is she safe?”

“I intend to find out. And I will let you know.”

“Why? Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know yet. But I promise you, I will not give up until you are safe and the man responsible for terrorizing you and your friends is in jail.”

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