Hiding in Plain Sight

The second thrilling Amish Witness Protection novel

After Julia Bradford’s son witnesses a gang shooting, hiding in witness protection on Abraham King’s Amish farm is the only hope the Englischer and her children have. Even as danger closes in, Julia is drawn to the community’s peaceful ways—and the ex-cop turned Amish protector. But when their location is discovered, can Abraham protect her family…and possibly have a future by her side?

DEBBY GIUSTI is an award-winning Christian author who met and married her military husband at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful children and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of mystery and suspense that touch the heart and soul. Visit Debby online at debbygiusti.com, blog with her at seekerville.Blogspot.com and craftieladiesofromance.Blogspot.com, and email her at Debby@DebbyGiusti.com.

Also By Debby Giusti

Amish Witness Protection

Amish Safe House

Amish Protectors

Amish Refuge

Undercover Amish

Amish Rescue

Amish Christmas Secrets

Military Investigations

The Soldier’s Sister

The Agent’s Secret Past

Stranded

Person of Interest

Plain Danger

Plain Truth

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Amish Safe House

Debby Giusti

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09487-0

AMISH SAFE HOUSE

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“Hurry, Julia. We don’t have much time.”

Abraham held out his hand to her. Fear flashed in Julia’s eyes. Abraham’s heart went out to her for the situation they were in. All she wanted to do was keep her son safe, yet they were walking into the middle of a clash between two street gangs. They were taking a big risk that could turn deadly.

“We have to keep going.” Abraham put his hand on Julia’s shoulder and guided her forward. She scooted William closer toward Abraham so the boy would be protected between them.

“We’ll slip out along the side of the road,” Abraham said. “Act nonchalant.” They stayed on the sidewalk, keeping their eyes averted so they would not make eye contact.

“Hey, you!” someone shouted.

“They must have seen us!”

* * *

Amish Witness Protection

Amish Hideout by Maggie K. Black—January 2019

Amish Safe House by Debby Giusti—February 2019

Amish Haven by Dana R. Lynn—March 2019

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Amish Safe House, Book 2 in the Amish Witness Protection continuity. In this story, Julia Bradford’s son witnesses a gang murder, and she and her two children are forced into witness protection. They find refuge with Abraham King. The reclusive former cop, now living Amish, lost his wife and child tragically to violence three years earlier. If he couldn’t protect them, how will he be able to protect Julia and her family now? They’re in danger of losing their lives while Abraham is in danger of losing his heart.

I pray for my readers each day and would love to hear from you. Email me at debby@debbygiusti.com, write me c/o Love Inspired, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007 or visit me at www.DebbyGiusti.com and at www.facebook.com/debby.giusti.9.

As always, I thank God for bringing us together through this story.

Wishing you abundant blessings,

Debby

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

To our law enforcement heroes.

May God bless them and keep them in His care.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

Gunfire!

Julia Bradford’s pulse raced. “Kayla, where’s your brother?”

“He took out the trash.”

Julia rinsed the plate she was washing and glanced at the overflowing trash bag still on the floor by the kitchen counter, then peered through the window at the dumpster in the empty alleyway below.

Another round of gunshots. Her heart thumped a warning. She wiped her hand on a dish towel and hurried into the living area. “When did he leave?”

Her seven-year-old daughter clutched her doll and shrugged. Thankfully, Kayla seemed oblivious to the gang warfare that held this part of the inner city hostage.

“Come with me.” Julia reached for her daughter’s hand.

Kayla reluctantly rose from the floor, still holding her doll, and slipped her small hand into her mother’s. “Where are we going?”

“To Mrs. Fielding’s apartment.”

Kayla’s face broke into a wide smile. “Maybe she baked cookies today.”

If only all of life’s problems could be solved with a cookie.

“Hurry.” Julia ushered her daughter into the stairwell and up one flight of steps.

She knocked on the apartment door. “Mrs. Fielding?”

Relieved when the sweet neighbor with the warm gaze and understanding smile opened the door, Julia gently guided Kayla through the doorway.

“William’s outside,” she explained. “I heard gunshots.”

The older woman’s brown eyes widened. “Lord, protect that boy.”

“Can you watch Kayla?”

“Of course, dear.”

“Lock the door, Mrs. Fielding. The gangs have started following their victims into stairwells.”

“God help us.” The woman moaned as she pointed Kayla toward the table. “Sit there, baby. I’ll get you a cookie.”

Once the door closed, Julia waited to hear the click of the dead bolt fall into place before she raced down the stairs, pushed on the outer door and stepped into the cool night air.

A pop-pop-pop sounded, followed by a rapid burst of semiautomatic gunfire. Heart in her throat, Julia ran toward the sound.

“William?” She glanced into the alley, the neighboring apartment, the small grocery on the corner with its windows barred to stop the rampant crime.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Julia spat out, her hands fisted. Anger at her ex-husband bubbled up anew.

More gunfire, peppered with angry shouts.

Where’s Will?

She turned left at the intersection, then right onto a side street. Her gut tightened. Halfway down the block two bodies lay sprawled on the roadway. Dark swaths of blood pooled on the pavement.

Fear tangled her spine.

William!

She wanted to scream his name, but her outcry would draw attention to a fourteen-year-old enamored of punk teens and twentysomethings who flaunted knives and guns and endless cash.

She blamed Charlie, her ex, who was serving time. So much for fatherly love. The only thing he had provided for his children was a heritage of crime.

Slipping into a nearby alleyway, she peered at the thugs marked with tattoos and piercings milling around their fallen comrades.

More shots. A man gasped, his face caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He clutched his chest and collapsed to the pavement. Just that quickly, the rival gangs scattered.

Footsteps sounded. Julia held her breath and narrowed her gaze, trying to determine who was approaching.

Her eyes widened.

William!

She stepped from the darkness and grabbed her son’s hand. “Where were you?”

“Mom, please.” He jerked free.

“You snuck out.”

“I told Kayla.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

She glanced back. Three men stood staring at them. Julia’s heart lurched. She motioned William forward. “Go home. Now.”

Footsteps slapped the pavement behind them. She turned again. Her heart stopped. The men were running toward them.

“Hurry, Will.”

With his long legs and easy gait, her son moved ahead of her. They turned left at the corner and right at the next intersection. Her lungs burned. She gasped for air.

William climbed the stairs to their apartment building and plugged in the code. The door clicked open. He disappeared into the stairwell.

Julia followed him inside and up the stairs. He stood at the door of their apartment, fumbling with the key.

Shouts sounded below.

“Where is he?” Male voices. “Where’s that punk kid? David’s friend. He saw it all go down.”

Another voice, coming from the same group. “I know his apartment number. Follow me.”

Heavy footfalls pounded the stairs.

Julia’s heart stopped. She reached around William and jiggled the key. The door to their apartment opened. She shoved him into the living room, slammed the door behind her and engaged the lock.

“Hide, Will. In the bathroom.”

She grabbed her cell phone off a side table and followed her son through the bedroom to the bath beyond, locking both doors behind them just as the gang members crashed through the front door and entered the apartment.

“Lay down.” She motioned William into the tub. “Cover your head with your hands.”

Trembling, Julia punched 911 into her cell. “The Philador gang,” she said, breathless, once the operator answered. “Three of them...in my apartment.”

She gave the address, the words spilling out one after another. “My son and I...locked in the bath. Hurry.”

Angry shouts. Glass shattered. A heavy object clattered to the floor.

God, can You hear me? Protect my child.

Julia pushed her weight against the bathroom door, hoping it would hold. Her heart raced. A roar filled her ears.

If only the police...

Sirens sounded.

Would they get there in time?

Voices in the bedroom. Something or someone rammed the bathroom door.

“You’re dead, punk.”

William glanced up, his face twisted with fear.

Another crash to the door.

She thought of her daughter with Mrs. Fielding in the upstairs apartment.

Keep them safe.

“Police!” a voice shouted.

A shot, followed in a nanosecond by another. A scream. Then the scurry of feet.

Someone pounded on the door. “Ma’am, it’s the police. Unlock the door.”

Could she trust the voice? Could she trust anyone?

Will climbed from the tub, his cheeks wet with tears, his nose running. He touched her hand.

She saw his lips move, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

He nudged her aside, undid the lock and slowly opened the door.

Hands grabbed both of them and pulled them through the bedroom, past two bleeding bodies on the floor, past the group of officers huddled around another gang member. His wrists were cuffed behind his back. Curly black hair, a mustache and goatee, deep-set eyes that stared at her as they passed.

Recognition flickered in the back of Julia’s mind.

A female officer introduced herself and held up a badge. “We’re taking you someplace safe.”

Julia shook her head. She reached for William and pulled him close. “My son?”

“He’s going with you.”

“Kayla? My...my daughter—”

“Where is she, ma’am?”

“Upstairs.”

Without letting go of William’s hand, Julia climbed the stairs, pulling her son behind her. The officer followed.

“It’s Julia.” She tapped on Mrs. Fielding’s door. “I need my daughter.”

The door cracked open. Mrs. Fielding peered through the narrow crevice.

“Where’s Kayla?”

“Mama!” The child yanked on the door. Her eyes widened as she glanced at the throng of police swarming the stairwell. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

Julia pointed to the female officer. “We’re going someplace with this lady.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Shhh, Kayla. It’ll be okay.”

“My dolly.”

“Kayla, please.”

She ran back into the apartment and returned with the doll clutched in her arms.

Julia squeezed Mrs. Fielding’s hand. “Thank you.”

“God keep you safe,” the older woman said. “I’m praying for you.”

If only God would listen.

The officer touched Julia’s arm. “We need to leave now.”

“My purse?”

“I’ll have someone retrieve your things.”

“I homeschool my children. There are books and—”

“I’ll tell them to bring the schoolbooks and supplies.” The officer put her hand on Julia’s shoulder and pointed her down the stairs.

Outside, the flashing lights of the ambulance and police squad cars captured them in their glare. Julia pulled her children close and ran toward the waiting car, her head lowered as the officer had instructed.

They slid into the back seat of the large sedan. Heat pumped from air vents. Julia buckled seat belts and wrapped her arms around the children, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

The officer glanced at William. “Did you see anyone shot this evening?”

He lowered his gaze and nodded. “Oscar... Oscar de la Rosa.”

“Who shot him?”

William glanced at Julia before he answered, his voice little more than a whisper. “Frankie Fuentes.”

Julia’s heart broke. Her son was caught in the middle of a Philadelphia turf war between the Philadores and Delphis. Both gangs killed in cold blood and left no witnesses.

Kayla snuggled closer, her eyes heavy.

“Everything’s all right, sweetie,” Julia assured her.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was right and everything was wrong.

ONE

“I have your new identities.” US Marshal Jonathan Mast sat across the table from Julia in the hotel, situated on the outskirts of Philadelphia, where she and her children had been holed up for the last five days. He was a pensive man with a dark beard and equally dark eyes.

“The night of the shooting I asked you to be patient, Mrs. Bradford, and you have been, which we all appreciate.” He glanced at the two other marshals at the table. Both Stacy Porter, slender and focused on her job, and Karl Adams, more laid-back with an easy smile, nodded in agreement.

Julie didn’t feel patient. She felt frustrated and stir-crazy. Keeping her children content in a two-room suite had been a challenge. Plus, she was scared to death about their safety.

The Philadores wanted to kill William so he wouldn’t testify against their leader. As much as Julia didn’t trust law enforcement, she had to rely on the US Marshals and their witness protection program to keep her family safe. No wonder her nerves were stretched thin. She had slept little over the last four nights, and the nagging headache and dark circles under her eyes were proof of her struggle to maintain some semblance of normalcy in her children’s lives.

As efficient as Marshal Mast seemed, he failed to realize how antsy kids could be without sunshine and fresh air. Fortunately, Stacy and Karl had seemed more empathetic. Both in their early thirties, they had played games with William and Kayla and had provided pizza and colas and an abundance of snacks. But even a diet of junk food got old.

“We’re ready to transport you and the children,” Jonathan Mast continued. “We’ll fly into Kansas City tonight, then drive to Topeka and north to Yoder.”

“What’s in Kansas?”

“What’s not there is more important. Kansas is one of the few states where the Philadores don’t have a strong presence. As I’ve mentioned previously, Frankie Fuentes is a killer. He runs drugs, has his hand in prostitution, trafficking and illegal gambling. Three weeks ago, he gunned down two cops in cold blood. No witnesses and no way to bring him to justice. Your son saw him kill Oscar de la Rosa. William’s testimony will send Fuentes to jail for a long time.”

Jonathan pulled out his phone and accessed a photograph. He handed the cell to Julia. “Abraham King will watch over you in Kansas.”

Julia studied the picture. The man looked to be in his midthirties with a square face and deep-set eyes beneath dark brows. His nose appeared a bit off center, as if it had been broken. Lips pulled tight, and no hint of a smile on his angular face.

“Mr. King doesn’t look happy.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Law enforcement photos are never flattering.”

Her stomach tightened. “He’s a cop?”

“Past tense. He left the force three years ago.”

Once a cop, always a cop. Her ex had been a police officer. He protected others but failed to show that same sense of concern when it came to his own family. After Charlie, she wanted nothing to do with men in uniform.

The marshal seemed oblivious to her unease.

“Abe is an old friend,” Jonathan continued. “A widower from my police-force days who owns a farm and has a spare house on his property. He lives in a rural Amish community.”

“Amish?”

“That’s right.”

“Bonnets and buggies?” she asked.

He smiled weakly. “You’ll be off the grid, Mrs. Bradford. No one will look for you there. If anyone asks, you’ll be working as Abraham’s housekeeper, at least until the trial.”

“Has a date been set?”

“Not yet. Everything takes time.”

Julia tried to get her mind around a new identity in a new state. She didn’t understand the Amish connection, but she was okay with anything that meant William and Kayla would be safe.

“My ex-husband...”

She glanced into the adjoining bedroom where William was watching a sporting event on ESPN. Kayla stood nearby and pretended to feed her doll.

Julia lowered her voice. “My ex-husband won’t know of our whereabouts?”

“That’s correct.”

“He won’t be able to find us,” she repeated, needing the reassurance she hoped the marshal would provide.

“No one will find you, ma’am.”

“William will be safe in Kansas?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“As you probably know, my husband was a cop.” She glanced again at the photo. “I’m... I’m hesitant to rely on someone with that background. Do you know why Mr. King was forced to resign?”

Jonathan stiffened. “Abraham had a stellar record with law enforcement, Mrs. Bradford.”

“I didn’t mean to imply...” She held up her hand. “I’m just worried about the safety of my children. They come first.”

“Of course they do, but let me assure you, their safety, as well as yours, is our top priority.”

He retrieved his phone from her outstretched hand and tucked it into his pocket. “Abraham put a criminal in jail who wanted payback after he was paroled. The guy planted an explosive device in Abe’s car. The next morning, his wife tried to drive their daughter to daycare. The car exploded, and his wife and four-year-old child were killed.”

The marshal’s matter-of-fact disclosure of the tragedy hit Julia hard. She glanced down at the table, fighting back tears that welled up in her eyes at the senseless loss of life. “I’m sorry.”

Jonathan nodded. “It was a tough time for him, as you can imagine.”

“Did Mr. King agree to shelter us?”

“He did. Your identities and location will probably change again after William testifies, but for now, you’ll be Julia Stolz.”

“A German name.”

“Yes, ma’am. The area has a large German as well as Amish population. Stolz will fit in.”

“I don’t speak German.”

“That won’t be a problem.” He pulled a manila folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table in front of her.

“Here’s the paperwork you need for your new identities. Social security cards with new names and numbers for you and the children. Birth certificates. A high school graduation diploma for Julia Stolz.”

Jonathan glanced into the bedroom. “William and Kayla need to understand the importance of not revealing their old identities.”

Kayla wouldn’t be a problem, but William was going through a defiant stage where he rebelled against everything.

As if reading her mind, Mast added, “William needs to know that his safety as well as yours and your daughter’s depends on him agreeing to this new life.”

Julia nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

But would he listen?

Pushing his chair back from the table, Jonathan glanced at his fellow marshals. “We’ll leave at nine tonight.”

“Why so late?” Julia asked.

“At the present time, the Philadores don’t know your whereabouts. We don’t want that to change.” He stood. “Stacy and Karl will drive you to the airport. I’ll meet you there.”

True to his word, Marshal Mast was waiting on the tarmac when Karl pulled the sedan to a stop next to the small charter plane that night.

Julia and her children were ushered onboard. Kayla fell asleep not long after the plane was airborne. William nodded off soon thereafter. Julia stared out the window, peering into the dark sky. Her head throbbed, her eyes burned and she was cold, too cold.

Stacy handed her blankets. “You’ve been very brave.”

Julia covered her children and herself with the blankets and almost laughed. Not brave, but maybe foolish to think she could outsmart the Philadores. Her eyes closed. The jerk of the plane when the wheels touched down forced them open again.

“We’ve landed.” Stacy patted Julia’s arm. “A van will take us to your final destination.”

Julia ushered her children off the plane and into the vehicle parked on the tarmac.

Karl slipped behind the wheel. Jonathan sat in the passenger’s seat, and Stacy climbed into the rear.

Kayla fell asleep again, her head on Julia’s lap. William leaned against her shoulder. Soon, he too drifted off.

Julia watched the lights of the city fade from view as they headed into the country. She quickly lost track of the twists and turns in the road and slipped into a half sleep.

A hand tapped her shoulder. “We’re almost to our destination.”

The car turned off the paved road onto a dirt drive that led to a two-story house with a porch and overhanging tin roof. A small light glowed in a downstairs window.

A second house, similar in style but a bit larger, sat not more than twenty feet away.

Stacy slipped out from the rear. “I’ll carry Kayla.” She lifted the girl into her arms.

“William, wake up.” Julia patted her son’s arm. “We’re going inside.”

He rubbed his eyes and followed her out of the van. Julia took Kayla from the marshal and then grabbed William’s hand, surprised that he didn’t balk. Most days, he objected to any show of affection.

Julia’s stomach churned. She hugged Kayla closer and gripped her son’s hand more tightly as they followed Stacy up the steps to the porch.

The door opened. A man stood backlit on the threshold. “You made good time,” he said in greeting.

“No traffic this late at night.” Marshal Mast extended his hand. The two men shook, then embraced in a back-slapping half-hug of sorts that confirmed the friendship Jonathan had mentioned.

The homeowner shook hands with the two other marshals and invited them inside. “There’s coffee. I placed ham and cheese and bread on the table, in case you’re hungry.”

He glanced at her and nodded. “Ma’am.”

Stepping inside, she narrowed her gaze and studied the sparse accommodations. A table, sideboard, a wood-burning stove. Glancing into another room, she saw two rockers, a bench, a chest of drawers and another table.

She focused again on the man who had welcomed them to his house. He wore a white shirt and trousers held up with suspenders. No collar on the shirt. No buttons. No belt. Work boots scuffed with mud. Turning she saw the pegs on the wall by the door and the black, wide-brimmed felt hat and the short black waistcoat.

She glanced at the marshals who were pouring coffee and helping themselves to the bread and cold cuts on the table. The only person who noticed her discomfort was the man whose photo she had seen earlier today. His deep-set eyes stared at her as if questioning why she was there.

Julia wanted to ask the same question. Jonathan had mentioned that Abraham was living Amish, but the stark reality of what that meant hit her like a sledgehammer. No phone, no electrical power, no technology. Off the grid, as Jonathan had mentioned, was an understatement. Plus, the Amish were pacifists. If they didn’t believe in violence or raising a hand against another, then what if the Philadores discovered where she and her children were hiding?

Her heart sank as she looked at the tall man with the questioning gaze. A former cop who didn’t fit the law enforcement model. No matter what Jonathan claimed, she didn’t see how Abraham King could protect her and her children if he was Amish.

* * *

Abraham had made a mistake. As much as he owed Jonathan, he never should have agreed to bring a woman into his life.

Losing everyone he had ever loved had taken him to the brink of despair. Jonathan had saved him and brought him back to life, a life of hard work and isolation. A life without a woman to stir up memories of Marianne and their precious little girl, Becca. His breath caught as he thought of the pain that never seemed to end.

Surely Jonathan would understand if Abraham backed out of their agreement. Then he glanced at Julia. Too thin, too afraid, too lost. He knew the signs of a person holding on by a whisper. He had been that person three years ago.

The boy standing next to her was tall and gangly, as if a growth spurt had caught him unawares. His brown eyes, like his mother’s, peered warily at the three marshals gathered around the table. The kid looked tired and confused and ready to bolt if given the chance.

“His dad’s doing time,” Jonathan had shared. “Wouldn’t take much for the kid to follow in his father’s footsteps from what we know. You’re the family’s last hope, Abraham.”

Abraham sighed. How could he turn his back on a woman and two children in such need?

“The bedrooms are upstairs.” Abraham stepped toward her. “I can show you the way. Perhaps the children would like to go to sleep.”

“I’m sure they would.” Clutching her daughter in her arms, she nodded to her son, and the weary threesome followed Abraham up the stairs.

Carrying an oil lamp to light the way, he chastised himself for not placing a lit lamp in each of the bedrooms. Darkness could be frightening, especially to children in new surroundings.

He opened the first door on the right. “I thought your daughter could sleep here.”

The woman hesitated a moment and stared at the furnishings. A single bed, small dresser, and a side table with a water pitcher and basin.

She moved into the room, pulled back the covers and laid her little girl on the bed. Quickly, she removed Kayla’s shoes and covered her with a quilt.

Abraham glanced down at the child’s blond hair and chubby cheeks. A knife stabbed his heart as Becca’s face filled his vision. He turned away and headed to the door.

“William, your mother will sleep across the hall. The room next door is for you.” Thankfully, the boy followed.

“I will leave the lamp in the hallway.”

“You...you don’t have electricity?” the boy asked, his voice filled with wonder.

“We use oil lamps.”

The boy frowned.

Abraham stepped back into the hallway to give the lad privacy as he untied his shoes and got ready for bed.

Julia stepped past him and entered the room. She pulled the covers around her son’s shoulders and brushed the hair from his forehead. “Go to sleep, William. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll be across the hall.”

“I don’t wanna stay here.”

She nodded. “I know.”

The boy’s eyes closed and he was soon asleep.

Abraham placed the lamp on a small table in the hallway. Julia joined him there.

“I appreciate you taking us in, Mr. King.”

“Please, my name is Abraham. Some call me Abe.”

“I hate to disturb your life, but Marshal Mast—”

“You have disturbed nothing, Ms. Stolz.”

Her brow wrinkled.

“Perhaps Jonathan did not provide your new name?”

“He did. It’s just that...” She raked her hand through her golden-brown hair. “So much has happened.”

“We can review the information you will need tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Abraham.” She glanced into her room and then hurried downstairs.

The marshals were eating sandwiches and finishing their coffee. They stood when she entered the kitchen.

Stacy pointed to a plastic bag sitting next to the luggage by the door. “I brought a few games for the kids.”

Julia offered a weak smile. “That was very thoughtful.”

“William and Kayla will adjust.” Stacy squeezed her arm. “You will, too.”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan shook hands with Abraham. “Thanks for the chow.”

“You are traveling back to Philadelphia tonight?”

“We’ll be at our desks before dawn.” The marshal turned to Julia. “You can call us if you need anything. Abraham’s neighbor has a phone. Do you have any questions?”

“None that I can think of at the moment.”

The marshals shook her hand and then left the house. Stacy and Karl climbed into the van. Jonathan hung back.

“I’ll leave the coded message on your neighbor’s answering machine if anything new develops,” he told Abraham, who had followed them outside. “Let me know if you notice anything suspicious. The Philadores don’t have much of a foothold in Kansas, but that could change.”

He slapped Abraham’s shoulder. “Nice seeing you, Abe. Looks like you’ve settled into Amish life.”

“Coming back was a good decision for me.” Abraham hesitated. “I will always be grateful.”

“You saved my hide a few times. The least I could do was reciprocate.”

Jonathan glanced back at the house before adding, “I know this is hard, but the kid’s in danger. I don’t have to tell you the woman looks fragile and at the end of her rope. The boy could be the biggest problem. The cops in Philly found him on the street a couple times and took him home. The mom’s trying hard, but we both know sometimes that’s not good enough. Plus, her ex-husband came after her following their divorce. She got a restraining order and changed locations twice. Each time he found her. He eventually went to prison, but he talked about getting even. She’s carrying a lot of worry, especially concerning her son. Maybe you can redirect the kid and focus him on something other than gangs and crime.”

“The Amish way is not for everyone, Jonathan. You know that.”

“Yah.” The marshal slipped into his own Amish roots. “But for a kid who doesn’t know where to turn, the hard work and strong sense of community might give him a new outlook on life. As I mentioned when I first contacted you, my wife was in WitSec and was placed within the Amish community, which proved successful. I have confidence you’ll make this work as well, Abraham.”

“When I agreed to help, I thought there would be a husband.” Abraham tugged on his jaw. “A husband who would follow his wife here at some later time, instead of an ex locked away in prison.”

“I may have skipped over that detail.”

Abraham chuckled. “You knew I would never agree to a woman without a husband.”

“You’ll be in the house next door.”

“Of course I will, but she was hurt by her ex and probably struggles to trust men.”

“Wouldn’t you struggle, if you had been through what she has? Her husband had a passion for gambling. Too much debt and to the wrong people. Then he embezzled funds to cover his habit.”

“Being placed with a female might have been a better fit.”

“Encourage her to call Stacy if she needs to talk to another woman. In the meantime, you’re our man on this case, Abe. The family needs you.”

Again the two men shook hands. As Jonathan turned toward the car, his cell rang. He pulled it out, pushed Talk and raised the phone to his ear. “Mast.” He nodded. “You’re sure? Thanks. I’ll pass that on.”

Pocketing his phone, Jonathan turned worried eyes to Abraham. “We picked up an informant who was eager to talk. Fuentes got wind of us moving William out of Philadelphia.”

“How?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Beats me, but it compounds the situation. Not that they suspect Kansas. Still, stay alert. His people could be anywhere and anyone.”

“Are you sure the informant is legit?”

“As sure as we can be. I’ll call you if we get more information.”

Jonathan hurried to the van and climbed into the front seat. The three marshals nodded their farewells before the vehicle drove away, leaving Abraham to think of the family he had not been able to protect.

His own family.

He turned and, with a heavy heart, entered the kitchen. The woman stood by the table.

“I live in the house next door,” he said. “I will leave you to your rest now. Tomorrow we will talk about this new arrangement.”

He touched the dead bolt on the kitchen door. “The front door is locked. Do the same with the dead bolt once I leave. Do not worry. The only person prowling the grounds tonight will be me. I will not let harm come to you or your children.”

Without waiting for her to comment, Abraham grabbed his hat and coat from the wall pegs and stepped outside.

He paused and listened for the door to lock.

Silence.

He knocked. “Lock the door, Mrs. Stolz, for your own peace of mind.”

The lock clicked into place. With a heavy sigh, he headed home.

He was glad he had bought the main house and the dawdy, or grandparents’ house, next door. Abraham had not needed two houses, but he had wanted the land. One hundred twenty acres to farm and to exhaust him so he would forget about Marianne and Becca. Except he could never forget his wife and child.

Now this woman had stepped into his quiet world with her two children and all he could think about was what he had lost.

He had made a mistake agreeing to help Jonathan. In a few days Abraham would tell him the setup was not working and insist he find somewhere else to place Julia and her children.

Abraham kicked a clod of dirt with his boot and sighed, knowing that if the Philador gang was after them, there would be no place safe for Julia and her children to hide.

TWO

Julia awoke to someone pounding on the door.

She blinked her eyes open to see a blue curtain covering the bedroom window and tried to remember where she was.

Not the apartment in Philly.

Kansas.

Her heart sank. For a moment, she had hoped everything had been a dream.

Rising from the bed, she slipped into her jeans and pulled on the sweater she had worn last night. Hunger nagged at her stomach and made her hurry that much faster down the stairs. She wanted the children to sleep in, at least until she’d had a cup of coffee.

Another rap sounded at the kitchen door. She glanced out the window, relieved to see the tall Amish man standing on the porch. She raked her hair out of her face, twisted the lock and pulled open the door.

Her breath hitched. She hadn’t realized how tall he was or how muscular. She pulled the sweater across her chest and took a step back, needing to distance herself from his bulk and his pensive eyes that stared down at her.

He held out a large ceramic mug. “Coffee?”

In his other hand, he held a jug of milk that he gave her. “There’s sugar in the kitchen. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“The children are still asleep.”

“Wake them so they can eat.”

“I wanted to let them sleep.”

“Chores need to be done.”

“Chores?”

He nodded. “A farm does not run on its own. To eat, we must work.”

She glanced around his broad chest and scanned the surrounding area. Horses grazed in a nearby pasture. Cattle waited at a feed trough in the distance.

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

“Gut.” He turned and headed back to his house.

Julia inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee, added a dollop of milk and sighed with the first sip. Strong and hot, just the way she liked it.

Turning back to the kitchen, she spied a wooden box and opened the lid, seeing the insulation and feeling the coolness. She bent to examine a trap door that she slid open to find a chunk of ice.

“Who needs electricity?” She placed the milk in the aluminum-lined icebox and then tugged their suitcases upstairs. She rummaged through the contents until she found her toiletries.

Using the water in the pitcher, she washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth, then pulled her hair into a knot at the base of her neck.

Taking another sip of coffee, she knocked on William’s open door and stepped toward the bed. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”

She brushed her hand over his hair, wishing he could always be so calm and peaceful. “Abraham is fixing breakfast. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

William opened one eye. “That big dude cooks?”

Julia tried to squelch a smile. “That dude is named Abraham. I have a feeling he can do a lot of things, and it sounds as though if you miss breakfast, you won’t eat until lunch.”

Both eyes opened. “Okay. I’m outta here.”

“I put a clean shirt on the chair. There’s water in the pitcher. Pour it into the basin to wash your hands and face and brush your teeth.”

“Rules, Mom. Too many.”

No doubt their host would have more rules for them to follow.

Kayla woke with a smile and hopped out of bed without needing to be told twice. She slipped into a fresh blouse and jeans and reached for her doll, tucked under the quilt. “I hope Mr. Abraham makes something good for breakfast. My tummy is hungry.”

“Whatever he prepares will be appreciated, Kayla. Be sure to say please and thank you.”

“I always remember even if Will doesn’t.”

“You set a good example for your brother.”

The child smiled as if they shared a secret. Julia brushed Kayla’s hair and helped her wash her face. “You look lovely.”

Hand in hand, they headed downstairs, where William waited in the kitchen. “It’s weird, Mom.”

“What is?”

“The fridge looks like a box cooled with a big chunk of ice.”

“That’s what it is, Will. An icebox. The Amish don’t use electricity.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Maybe to you, but many people enjoy the plain life as it’s called.”

“Plain and stupid,” Will grumbled under his breath. Julia chose to ignore the remark as she pulled open the kitchen door and guided the children into the cool springtime morning.

The musky smell of the rich soil and fresh air greeted them. She peered at the sun, which was peeking through an overcast sky. A crow cawed from the branches of a gnarled oak in the front yard. The irony wasn’t lost on her. For so long, she had yearned to live in the country where the air wasn’t stagnant with car exhaust and a crowd of buildings didn’t block the sun. Strange that her son being caught in the middle of a gang war would lead them to this remote Amish farm.

Then she thought of the Philadores, who wouldn’t give up their search until they found William. Narrowing her gaze, she stared at the distant road where a pickup truck traveled well over the speed limit. Someone local, no doubt, yet instinctively, she put her arm around Will’s shoulder and pulled him close.

God, if you’re listening, protect my child.

He shrugged out of her hold just as the door to the nearby house opened and Abraham stepped onto the porch.

“I had planned to ring the dinner bell to summon you,” he said, his voice warm with welcome. “Your timing is perfect. Breakfast is on the table.”

Kayla ran ahead and climbed the stairs. “I’m hungry, Mr. Abraham.”

“What about your dolly?” Abraham asked, eyeing the doll she clutched in her arm.

Kayla smiled. “She’s hungry, too.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Marianne. My daddy gave her to me.”

Abraham’s face clouded. He glanced at Julia, pain visible in his gaze.

“Mr. Abraham might not want a doll at the breakfast table,” Julia said to ease his upset. Then, fearing they may have offended his faith, she added, “As I recall, Amish dolls don’t have faces, although I’m not sure why.”

“It has to do with graven images, but only in certain communities.” Abraham held up his hand. “Having a doll with a face is not a problem here in Yoder.”

He glanced down at Kayla and smiled. “If you do not mind, I will call your doll Annie.”

The child shrugged. “That’s a pretty name, too.”

“What do you and Annie usually eat for breakfast?” he asked.

Kayla scrunched up her sweet face. “Mom makes us eat oatmeal.”

“Does she?” He laughed, and the pain evaporated. “It appears from your expression that you do not like oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal’s okay and it’s cheap. That’s why we eat it.”

“Kayla May, you don’t need to bore Mr. King with our family’s financial situation.”

He held the door open and motioned them inside.

A man’s house. Sparse but tidy. Two wooden rockers sat near the wood-burning stove in the middle of the room. A long table with chairs on one side and a bench by the wall divided the kitchen from the living area. A hutch and sideboard sat in the kitchen, a blanket chest and bookshelf in the larger living area.

Blue curtains, just as in the smaller house, were pulled back from the windows, a cloth covered the table, and oil lamps sat on a shelf in the kitchen.

“Sit on the bench, children,” he directed. “Your mother can take the chair across from me.”

“May I help serve the food?” she asked.

“Everyone likes pancakes?” He raised a brow.

Kayla’s eyes widened. “I do.”

“William, what about you?”

He shrugged. “They’re okay.”

“I also scrambled eggs and fried some slices of ham.” Abraham handed Julia a plate. “Give the children as much as they can eat.”

While she put pancakes and a slice of ham on each plate along with a spoonful of scrambled eggs, Abraham poured milk for the children and coffee for the adults.

He held her chair, which she hadn’t expected. How long had it been since anyone had done that for her?

Shaking off the memory of Charlie on one of their first dates, she slid onto the chair and placed her napkin on her lap.

William reached for his fork. She held up her hand, waiting as Abraham sat and bowed his head. Eyeing her son, she nodded for him to follow Abraham’s lead and hoped both children would remember how to give thanks.

Not that God would be listening to Julia’s prayer. Still, she was grateful. Keep us safe, she thought before grabbing a fork and lifting a portion of the sweet and savory pancake into her mouth.

“Breakfast is delicious,” she said between bites.

William, usually a picky eater, gobbled down everything on his plate and asked for more.

Abraham nodded his approval. “You have a good appetite, yah?”

Will wrinkled his brow and chuckled. “Yah.”

Julia frowned at her son. She was grateful Abraham either hadn’t realized or chose to ignore William’s disrespect.

Once they had eaten, she helped Abraham clear the table. “I can wash the dishes. You mentioned having chores to do.”

“The soap is under the sink.” He grabbed a hat hanging on a wall peg. “Come with me, William. We need to feed the neighbor’s livestock.”

The boy hesitated.

“William,” he called again.

Slowly, the boy rose and shuffled to the door.

Abraham grabbed a basket from the sideboard. “Kayla, you can gather eggs.”

“What about Annie?”

He smiled. “Annie should stay inside and help your mother with the dishes.”

Satisfied with the response, Kayla sat the doll on a chair and hurried after Abraham.

“Is gathering eggs like an Easter egg hunt, Mr. Abraham?”

“Perhaps a bit. I will show you.” He motioned the child toward the door and then glanced at Julia. “After Kayla collects the eggs, she will return to the house. Then William and I will go to the farm across the road. Harvey Raber and his sons are delivering the furniture they make to customers who placed orders. The neighbors lend a hand while they are gone.”

Julia glanced quickly around the tidy kitchen and peered into the living area. “Shall I start cleaning?”

“You are a housekeeper in name only, Julia. You and Kayla can return to your house. I am sure you have things to do there.”

She appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I’d like to unpack.”

“Lock the door. If there is a problem, ring the dinner bell. I will hear you.”

In spite of the peaceful setting and Abraham’s attempt to welcome them to farm life, his mention of using a bell if she or Kayla had a problem, made the anxiety Julia had felt in Philadelphia return. She and the children had traveled over a thousand miles to elude the Philadores, yet the truth remained. Frankie Fuentes was a killer, and he was after her son.

* * *

Abraham hurried Kayla to the henhouse while William sat on the porch steps, looking totally uninterested in anything about the farm. From what he had seen so far, the two children seemed to be complete opposites. Kayla embraced life to the full, while William hung back and needed to be coaxed into new endeavors.

Kayla’s eyes were wide with wonder as she stood on tiptoe and peered into one of the nests. She spied an egg and placed it in her basket.

“Don’t the chickens get upset that their eggs are gone?” she asked.

“They will lay more tomorrow, Kayla.” Abraham pointed to the corner of the henhouse. “Check there. I usually find an egg or two hidden under the hay.”

The child’s search proved fruitful and soon she was headed back to the house with a smile of contentment on her pretty face and a basket full of eggs.

“I’ll tell Mama to make something with the eggs like Mrs. Fielding did.”

“Mrs. Fielding?” Abraham asked.

“She lived in an upstairs apartment and used to take care of William and me when Mama had to work.”

“I am sure she was a good woman.”

“Mrs. Fielding told me she was a God-fearing woman. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I told her I didn’t fear God because I loved Him.”

Abraham tried not to smile, but Kayla’s sincerity touched his heart. “Hurry into the house and tell your mother that William and I are going to Mr. Raber’s farm.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Maybe next time.”

She skipped toward the house and stopped on the porch step to wave goodbye.

“Go inside, Kayla,” he called to her.

The child climbed the stairs, knocked and scooted into the house when Julia opened the door. She stood for a long moment in the doorway, staring at him. The breeze pulled at her golden hair. She caught the elusive strands and tugged them back into place before she closed the door again, leaving Abraham with a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He glanced at William, who shuffled along the drive, his head down and shoulders slumped. “You act as if you would rather have stayed with your mother.”

“I would rather have stayed in Philadelphia,” the boy said with a huff. “Besides, I don’t like to get up early.”

“You are tired from your journey?”

The boy nodded. “Tired and bored.”

Abraham chuckled under his breath. With all the chores that needed to be done on the farm, William would not be bored for long.

“Grab that bucket and fill it with feed for the horses in the paddock,” Abraham said when they entered the neighbor’s barn. The bucket was heavy when filled, but William carried it to the trough and then repeated the process.

“Now we will muck the stalls.” Abraham handed the boy a pitchfork and pointed to an empty stall. “Start there.”

From the look on William’s face, Abraham knew he was not happy, but he worked hard, and if he complained, he did so under his breath.

“Next we will lay fresh straw.”

William followed Abraham’s lead and a bed of straw soon covered the floor of the stalls.

“You have done a good job.” Abraham patted the boy’s shoulder. “We will go home and do the same in my barn.”

An almost imperceptible groan escaped Will’s lips. Abraham pretended not to notice and led the way back to the country road that divided the two farms.

Raber’s phone shack sat at the edge of the road. “Wait here, William.”

Abraham opened the door and stepped into the booth. He checked the answering machine to ensure Jonathan had not called and left a message.

“Is that where the Amish keep their phones?” William asked when Abraham joined him again.

“Yah, Mr. Raber takes orders by phone for the furniture he makes. The Ordnung, the rules by which various Amish communities live, forbids phones within the home. Keeping the phone away from the house and near the property line allows Mr. Raber to stay in contact with his customers while also obeying the rule.”

William pointed to the roof. “Are those solar panels?”

Abraham nodded. “They run the answering machine. You know about solar energy?”

William shrugged. “A little.”

“Perhaps you will be an engineer when you get older.”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Abraham asked.

“School’s not cool.”

Abraham would not ask what the boy thought was cool. From what Jonathan had said, William was drawn to the street gangs with their rap music and fast cars and even faster lifestyle. Was that what William thought was cool?

The sound of a car engine drew Abraham’s attention to the road. A souped-up sedan raced over the crest of a distant rise, going much too fast along the narrow country lane.

William stared at the car, no doubt attracted to the gaudy chrome and the heavy bass destroying the peaceful quiet.

“Hide in the phone shack.” Abraham opened the door and nudged William inside.

The car approached. Abraham walked to the curb. The driver stopped and rolled down the passenger window. “I’m looking for Yoder. Made a few wrong turns, it seems. Can you give me directions?”

“You are headed the right way. The town is about four miles ahead.”

“I’ll need a room. Can you recommend lodging?”

“There is a hotel south of town. At the intersection of Main and High, turn left. The hotel sits about five blocks south on the left.” Abraham stepped closer. “You are not from this area.”

“I was in Kansas City on business and had a few days off so I decided to explore this part of the state. My hobby is writing articles for travel magazines. A story on Yoder and the Amish people might sell. If you have time, we could schedule an interview.”

The last thing Abraham wanted was publicity about Yoder or his Amish neighbors. “Not much is going on around here. You might find more tourist attractions in Hutchison. They have an Amish community there.”

“I’ll check it out. Thanks for the information about the hotel.” The man handed a business card to Abraham. “You know where to find me for the next few days in case you have time for a cup of coffee, or we could talk over lunch.”

The driver waved and drove away.

Abraham made a mental note of the license plate before he opened the door to the phone booth. His heart stopped. William stood with the phone to his ear. His eyes widened and his face flushed. He dropped the receiver onto the cradle and lowered his gaze.

“Who did you call?”

The boy shook his head. “No one.”

“I will ask you once more, William. Who did you call?”

“I... I thought about calling a friend of mine from Philly.”

“What is his name?”

“David.”

“His full name.”

“David Davila.”

“Did the call connect?”

Will shook his head. “No way. There wasn’t time.”

“Did you call your friend from the hotel in Philadelphia?”

The boy’s face reddened.

“What did you tell David?”

“Only that we were moving, but I didn’t tell him where.”

“Did you mention Kansas?”

“I just said we were leaving the city.”

Abraham pointed the boy toward the road. “The phone is off-limits. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, sure.” William pushed past Abraham.

Abraham glanced back at the phone. William was his own worst enemy. The Philadores did not care if the boy was fourteen or forty-three. He was on their hit list. If Abraham could not protect William from himself, the boy and his sweet sister and pretty mother might die.

THREE

Julia felt a swell of relief when she spied William and Abraham return to the farm and enter the barn.

A short time later, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves pulled her attention back to the road. A buggy turned into the drive and stopped near the barn. A woman dressed in the typical Amish calf-length blue dress, black cape and matching black bonnet climbed to the ground.

Abraham stepped from the barn and greeted her with a welcoming smile. Julia wished she could hear their conversation and wondered what she should do if the woman came inside. Was she supposed to hide?

William stood at the barn entrance. From the way his arms moved, Abraham appeared to be introducing her son to the woman. Taking that as a sign she could go outside, Julia called for Kayla to join her and they both stepped onto the porch.

Abraham glanced up and nodded. “Sarah, this is Julia. She will be staying in the dawdy house for a bit of time and helping with the cleaning and cooking. Her daughter’s name is Kayla.”

Sarah looked perplexed, but she covered her confusion with a weak smile of welcome. “Abraham said you needed a place to stay.”

How should she answer? “He has been most generous to us.”

“I... I brought clothing.”

The Amish woman glanced at Abraham, said something that sounded German and then reached into the buggy and pulled forth a basket. “Perhaps I should show you how to pin the dress?”

Julia didn’t understand.

Abraham must have noticed her confusion. He stepped closer. “I saw Sarah yesterday before you arrived and asked her to bring Amish clothing, which will be good for you to wear.”

“You want me to dress Amish?”

He nodded. “For now. So you can fit in.”

“And the children?”

“They should, also.”

Julia glanced at Kayla who clapped her hands and jumped up and down. William frowned and wrapped his arms across his chest.

Seemed there were complications to their new environment. Julia tried to recall if the marshals had said they would be living with the Amish or living Amish.

A huge difference, which she would need to explain to her children. Would William listen? From the scowl on his face, probably not.

* * *

Abraham poured another cup of coffee and waited in the kitchen as Sarah ushered Julia and Kayla into a spare bedroom and helped them dress. William headed for a small room off the main living area.

“You would like help?” Abraham asked.

The boy shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

But evidently he did not have it because he remained in the room far longer than Abraham had expected. Before he could check on the boy, the bedroom door opened and Kayla skipped into the kitchen. Seeing Abraham, she stopped short.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes twinkled as she smiled shyly. “Sarah said she has a daughter who used to wear this dress. Now she’s grown taller. Sarah said I look like an Amish girl.”

Abraham had to smile. “You look very pretty, Kayla, and very Amish.” Her hair was braided and pulled into a bun. “We must get you a white kapp in town.”

“Sarah said girls cover their heads when they pray and since they always pray, they always wear their hats.”

“Called a kapp,” he instructed.

“William wears baseball caps sometimes.”

“That is not the same thing.”

The girl nodded. “Sarah’s fixing Mama’s hair so she can look Amish, too.”

Footsteps sounded. Abraham looked up to see Julia standing in the hallway, eyes downcast and a troubled frown on her oval face. She wore the typical Amish blue dress with white apron tied around her slender waist. Any self-sufficiency he had noticed earlier in her demeanor had been replaced with an alluring femininity that caused his gut to tighten. He also noted a hint of confusion that creased her brow, as if leaving her ordinary world and stepping into the Amish realm had thrown her off-kilter. Perhaps dressing Amish was too much too soon. The woman had been through so much.

Sarah encouraged her forward. “Trotter’s Dry Goods sells kapps. You must go to town and buy one for Kayla and Julia. Another dress, too, and a second apron.”

He nodded. “We will go soon.”

“I could meet you there and help with the selection.”

“If we need help, I will let you know.”

Sarah nodded and glanced at Kayla. “Tell me which you like best, apple pie or sweet potato?”

“Apple,” Kayla said.

“I have an extra pie in the wagon.”

Abraham smiled. “Thank you, Sarah.”

“It is the least I can do.” She turned and grabbed Julia’s hand. “I do not know the reason you are here, but I know it must be important. Embracing the Amish life is not easy. Should you need another woman with whom to talk, tell Abraham you would like to visit. Perhaps one day this week. I will be finishing one of my quilts and could use help.”

“I’m not sure you would approve of my stitches.”

“We all must learn, yah?”

Julia smiled. “I hope someday to find a way to repay you.”

“Payment is not necessary. We are neighbors and now friends. My help is freely given.”

Sarah stepped toward Abraham and took his hand. “It is always good to see you, Abraham.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

“You will come for dinner on Sunday?” she asked. “The bishop and his wife will be at my house.”

“Not this week. Perhaps some other time.”

She stepped closer and smiled knowingly. “Someday you will be ready, yah?”

Then she hurried around him and patted Kayla’s shoulder. “Come with me, child. You can bring the pie into the house.”

Abraham watched her climb into the buggy and hand a pie to Kayla. The girl hurried back inside.

“Place the pie on the counter,” Abraham instructed. “We will have a slice after we eat this evening.”

Kayla returned to the porch and waved goodbye to Sarah. Julia stood near the sink as if glued in place.

“I am sure wearing an Amish dress is not what you expected.” Abraham tried to explain. “Jonathan felt the disguise would add another layer of protection.”

“He’s right. It’s just a change.” She offered him a weak smile, and then, with a sigh, stepped closer to the sink and washed a glass left on the counter. “Sarah seems like a nice woman.”

“She goes out of her way to be helpful.” Abraham took another sip of coffee.

“You are courting, perhaps?”

He furrowed his brow. “Did she say this?”

“No, of course not. It’s just she mentioned her husband had died.” Julia reached for the towel and dried her hands. “I saw Sarah’s expression when she looked at you. I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” For whatever reason, Julia’s comment irritated him. “William is still in the small room at the front of the house, probably refusing to change clothes. You best check on him.”

Abraham grabbed his hat from the wall peg and stomped outside. His anger changed to concern when he spotted William heading into the barn from the driveway, still wearing his Englisch clothing. Abraham glanced back at his house and then at the phone shack in the distance. The door he had closed earlier now hung open.

His heart stopped. The boy had left Abraham’s house through the front door and had returned to the phone booth, probably to call his friend. If William had shared his whereabouts with David, the information could easily spread throughout the Philadelphia neighborhood and eventually to the Philadores. Within a day or two at the most, the gang would descend on Yoder, Kansas, in search of a fourteen-year-old boy who, in their opinion, needed to be offed.

Abraham would talk to William, but first he had to alert Jonathan. He hurried to the phone shack, stepped inside and hit the button that would reveal the last number called. He jotted down the sequence of digits on a piece of scratch paper and tapped in Jonathan’s number.

“We have a problem,” Abraham said in greeting. He quickly relayed what had happened and provided the phone number William had contacted. “Have Karl pick up the family and find another safe place for them to hide out.”

“No can do, Abe, at least not now. Fuentes is beating the bushes, trying to find Will. Moving the family would be too dangerous. They have to stay with you until things calm down.”

“You are taking too big of a risk, Jonathan.”

“I’m keying the phone number William called into my computer. Give me a minute or two and we’ll see what I can find.”

“Find a new hiding place for Julia and her children. If the gang learns their whereabouts, they will be sitting ducks, as the saying goes.”

“Hopefully the kid in Philly will keep his mouth shut.”

Abraham let out a frustrated breath. “The kid’s name is David Davila. If you count on him keeping silent, you are toying with William’s life.”

“We’ll work as fast as we can, Abe, but nothing is done in the blink of an eye. You know that.”

“I know when someone is in danger and needs protection.”

“That’s why I placed them with you.”

“While you are checking, run the name Nelson Turner. He asked for directions to Yoder. Said he was a writer.” Abraham provided the license plate number for the sports car.

“Writer or journalist? I’ll check the plates, but my advice is to stay clear of anyone involved with the media. The last thing we want is Julia or her children’s photo in the paper or on some online news blog.”

“That was my thought, as well.”

Jonathan clucked his tongue. “I found the address associated with the phone number William called. Now I’ll cross-check it with known gang members in the area.”

A sigh filled the line.

Abraham pushed the receiver closer to his ear. “What?”

“William’s friend, David, lives at the same address as a low-level punk who we think has ties to the Philadores. Pablo... Pablo Davila. They must be brothers.”

“David is probably filling his brother in on William’s whereabouts as we speak.”

“Point taken. I’ll pull some strings and see if we can speed up the process of creating new identities for the family. But remember, Abraham, Kansas is a big state. Fuentes is looking for a woman and kids wearing jeans and sweaters. Keep them dressed Amish for their own safety. As we both know, Fuentes is a killer. The last thing we want is for Julia and her son William to be injured or end up dead.”

Dead, like Marianne and Becca. Abraham’s stomach soured. “Move mountains, Jonathan, and get this family to a more secure location.”

“We’ll work this end, Abe, but I’m relying on you to keep them safe until then.”

Safe and alive. Was Jonathan counting too heavily on Abraham? He had not been able to protect his own family. Would he be able to protect Julia and her children?

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