Danger in Plain Sight (Hqn) Read online

  Coming home may be more dangerous than she thinks...

  Libby Morgan never wanted to return to Lancaster County. She’d made her own life in the city as a news photographer, leaving the slow pace of Amish country behind. She’d left love behind, too, when she fled the old-fashioned ways of Adam Byler. But when a friend in trouble beckons, Libby knows she has no choice. What she doesn’t know is that something sinister awaits her....

  For Adam Byler, the traditional ways convey safety and order. As police chief of Springville, the former marine strives to keep the peace between the Amish and their modern “Englischer” neighbors—and he will not allow Libby’s beauty to distract him from his duties. But when an innocent woman is attacked, they’ll confront a danger more threatening than their growing passion.

  Praise for Marta Perry

  “Marta Perry illuminates the differences between the Amish community and the larger society with an obvious care and respect for ways and beliefs…. She weaves these differences into the story with a deft hand, drawing the reader into a suspenseful, continually moving plot.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Murder in Plain Sight

  “Leah’s Choice, by Marta Perry, is a knowing and careful look into Amish culture and faith. A truly enjoyable reading experience.”

  —Angela Hunt, New York Times bestselling author of Let Darkness Come

  “Leah’s Choice takes us into the heart of Amish country and the Pennsylvania Dutch and shows us the struggles of the Amish community as the outside world continues to clash with the Plain ways. This is a story of grace and servitude as well as a story of difficult choices and heartbreaking realities. It touched my heart. I think the world of Amish fiction has found a new champion.”

  —Lenora Worth, author of Code of Honor

  “Marta Perry delivers a strong story of tension, fear and trepidation. Season of Secrets (4.5 stars) is an excellent mystery that’s certain to keep you in constant suspense. While love is a powerful entity in this story, danger is never too far behind.”

  —RT Book Reviews, Top Pick

  “In this beautifully told tale, Marta Perry writes with the gentle cadence and rich detail of someone who understands the Amish well. Leah’s Choice kept me reading long into the night.”

  —Linda Goodnight, author of Finding Her Way Home

  Also available from Marta Perry and HQN Books

  Murder in Plain Sight

  Vanish in Plain Sight

  And coming soon

  Home by Dark

  Marta Perry

  Danger in Plain Sight

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for deciding to read this third book in my Amish suspense series. As a lifelong resident of rural Pennsylvania, I have always lived near the Plain People. My own family heritage is Pennsylvania Dutch, so it has been a pleasure and a challenge to draw on those experiences in my books.

  It can be difficult for outsiders to understand the constraints in the Amish community that prevent them from calling on the police or seeking legal help in any but extraordinary situations. Some outsiders think this attitude is foolish, while others seek to take advantage of it, knowing that it is rare for the Amish to involve the police in their troubles. In truth, most Amish are among the most law-abiding people one could meet, and their belief in nonviolence is a significant part of the core of their faith.

  In this story, Libby Morgan returns home to Lancaster County to help her dearest friend, an Amish teacher, but she arrives too late. Esther has been critically injured in a hit-and-run accident, and convincing both the Amish community and the police that Esther is still in danger has life-threatening consequences. I’ve tried to present Amish belief and practices as honestly and respectfully as I can, and any errors are my own.

  I hope you’ll let me know how you like my book, and I’d love to send you a signed bookmark and my free brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. You can email me at [email protected], visit me on the web at www.martaperry.com or on Facebook at Marta Perry books, or write to me at HQN Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

  Blessings,

  Marta Perry

  This story is dedicated to those of my friends who like mysteries best. And, as always, to Brian.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to express my thanks to all those whose expertise helped me in writing this book: to Erik Wesner, whose Amish America blog is enormously helpful; to Donald Kraybill andJohn Hostetler, whose books are the definitive resources on Amish life and beliefs; to thePlain People I have known and respected; and to my family, for giving me such a rich heritage on which to draw.

  The righteousness of the blameless

  makes a straight way for them, but the wicked

  are brought down by their own wickedness.

  —Proverbs 11: 5

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  BPA

  PROLOGUE

  AMISH BUGGIES WEREN’T built for speed. If the men were following her, she couldn’t outrun them.

  Esther Zook shivered in the December cold, turning her head to peer behind her, her view narrowed by the brim of her bonnet.

  Nothing. The township road lay dark and empty behind the buggy…as dark as every farmhouse she’d passed, surrounded by their blankets of snow. Country people went to bed early in the winter, especially the Amish, without electric lights and televisions to keep them awake.

  Libby Morgan would be awake, though. If she could get to Libby, everything would be all right. Libby would know what to do.

  If only she’d told Libby more in her letters…but Esther hadn’t known, then, just how frightening this was.

  The Amish didn’t go to the law. They settled matters among themselves. But the Amish of Spring Township had never dealt with a problem like this before.

  Esther had shrunk from putting her suspicions down in black and white, thinking that when Libby returned it would be time enough to seek her advice. But now suspicion had turned to certainty, and she feared she had delayed too long. If they were following her—

  Even as she thought it, she heard the roar of an engine behind her. Panic sent her heart racing; she tried to think, tried to pray, but it was too late. The roar turned to a scream, to a crash which deafened her, to total blackness.

  CHAPTER ONE

  IT WAS NICE to see someone else’s love life turning out well, especially when her own was such a train wreck, Libby Morgan decided. Now that her big brother Trey was married, Mom could turn her obvious desire for grandchildren to Trey and Jessica and stop asking her only daughter if she’d met anyone special yet.

  Libby put down the bridesmaid’s bouquet she’d been clutching for what seemed like hours and picked up her camera instead. She’d discovered long ago that the camera could be useful camouflage. It would help her get through the rest of the wedding reception without, she hoped, too much conversation with people who’d known her from childhood and seemed compelled to try and find out how her life was going.

  Then, once the flurry of weddin
g-related activities were over, she’d be free to dig into the other reason she’d come home to Spring Township, deep in Pennsylvania’s Amish country.

  “You know the Amish don’t go to the law.” Esther’s last letter had sounded almost frightened, and Esther Zook, teacher at the local Amish one-room school, didn’t frighten easily.

  But I fear this is one time when we should. I must talk to you as soon as you get home. You know the Englisch world. You’ll be able to tell me if I’m right about this.

  Libby snapped off a few shots, more to keep the camera in front of her face than anything else. She hadn’t reached Pennsylvania from San Francisco as early as she’d intended, partly because of the weather, but mainly because of the upset at the newspaper that had led to a final showdown with her boss…final in more ways than one.

  Well, maybe she could set up in business as a wedding photographer. She framed Trey and Jessica in the pine-wreathed archway of the Springville Inn’s ballroom, seeming oblivious of everything but each other, and snapped several quick shots.

  “No doubt about how those two feel.”

  That particular deep male voice, coming from close behind her, made her hands jerk so that she undoubtedly got a great picture of the parquet floor. She turned, arranging a smile on her face. She’d had plenty of practice since fate, in the form of the bride, had paired her with Police Chief Adam Byler for the wedding.

  “There isn’t, is there? This is one relationship that’s destined to last.”

  As opposed to ours, which lasted for about a minute and a half. That being the case, why did she persist in comparing every man she met to Adam Byler?

  Adam’s slate-blue eyes didn’t show any sign he caught an undercurrent in her words. But then, he wouldn’t. Strong features, brown hair in a military cut, equally military posture—stoic didn’t begin to describe Adam. Whatever he felt wouldn’t be easily read on his face.

  “I was beginning to think Trey would never take the plunge, especially after your dad’s death, when he had to take over the company.” Adam flicked an assessing glance at her face, as if wondering whether she could take a casual reference to the loss of her father, over a year and a half ago now.

  She tried for a stoic expression of her own. “Trey’s had his hands full, I know.” She raised an eyebrow, casually, she hoped. “Or were you implying that I should have come home to take on some of the burden?”

  Adam lifted his hands in quick denial. “Never thought of it. Trey probably wouldn’t have let you, anyway. He was born for the job.”

  Trey, the oldest, had been groomed from birth to take over the extensive holdings that made up the Morgan family company. Link, her twin brother, the best man today, hadn’t had that pressure on him, but since an injury cut short his military career, he’d come home to recuperate, fallen in love and stayed to take over the construction arm of the family business.

  And then there was Libby, always considered the baby, even though Link had been born only twenty minutes before her. She’d been Daddy’s princess. Too bad that role hadn’t prepared her very well for the outside world. For an instant a fierce longing for her father’s warm, reassuring presence swept through her.

  Adam shifted his weight slightly, looking as if he’d rather be wearing his gray uniform on his six feet of solid muscle than the rented tuxedo. Or maybe she had actually succeeded in making him uncomfortable.

  “I guess I’d better get back to my groomsman duties.” A smile disturbed the gravity of his face. “Your mother gave strict orders. I even have a detailed list.”

  “That’s Mom, all right. She might play the featherbrain at times, but she’s the most organized person I know.”

  Funny, that only her mother could bring that softness to Adam’s expression. Or maybe not so funny. Geneva Morgan had looked at a ragged eight-year-old Adam and seen a person worth cultivating instead of the son of the town drunk. Adam wasn’t the sort to forget that.

  Libby watched Adam walk across the room through the shielding lens of the camera, lingering a bit on those broad shoulders. He was as solid now as he’d been back in high school.

  The family had gone to every Spring Township High football game to cheer on Trey, the quarterback. Nobody had known that Libby’s eyes were on his best friend, the lineman who’d been that same six feet of solid muscle even then. A crush, she told herself now. It had been nothing but a crush, turned humiliating when she’d thrown herself at him.

  In an odd way, when the rumors started going around that he’d gotten Sally Dailey pregnant, she’d felt better about his rejection of her. If that was the kind of girl he wanted, she was done with him.

  Only she hadn’t been, not really.

  Enough, she chided herself. Being home again was having a ridiculous effect on her…her emotions had been riding a roller coaster all day. At least, after another hour or two of the reception, the bride and groom would slip away.

  Lucky them. Libby had no doubt that Mom had another of her famous lists ready for the rest of the family. Still, there should be time tomorrow to talk with Esther.

  It was impossible to do it before then. Even if she could have left the reception, it grew dark early in December. Amish families, like the Zooks, would be in bed by this time.

  “Well, now, if it isn’t Libby Morgan, all grown-up.”

  She wasn’t quite fast enough to escape the arm that snaked around her waist…probably because she’d been watching Adam.

  “Mr. Barclay.” She grabbed his cold hand and shook it, using the move to get him at arm’s length.

  Owen Barclay, manager of the Springville Inn, did a marvelous job of running the Revolutionary-era showplace for its distant owners, so everyone in town said. Everyone also said he’d chase after any attractive female who crossed his path.

  “Owen, please. After all, we’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?” He made the words sound ridiculously intimate.

  “The family is so pleased with the reception.” She turned the conversation to the only business they had between them. “The setting is perfect.” Her gesture took in the spacious, Christmas-decorated room that could and did host everything from the local high school prom to political rallies.

  Owen nodded, flashing a white smile. Everything about Owen was polished, from his sleek dark hair to the tan—that had to come from a tanning booth—to the expensive cut of his suit. He might have been made for the position he held as manager of the historic inn.

  “My staff is well trained to handle an event like this. Naturally we want to provide the perfect setting for any wedding, but your brother’s is very special. It isn’t every day a member of the Morgan family gets married.”

  “It’s so nice that the bride decided to have the wedding here in Springville.” Sandra Smalley paused next to them, patting her silver-blond hair. “One does wonder why she didn’t have it at her home, of course.”

  Libby’s smile tightened. Sandra had always had aspirations to be the social leader of Springville, and she probably still did. More to the point, she was a notorious gossip. Libby certainly wasn’t going to mention Jessica’s strained relationship with her father, who was her only relative.

  “Well, I can answer that.” Libby leaned close to Sandra, as if about to impart a secret. “She actually thinks people here are nice.”

  “Oh. Well, of course.” Sandra blinked, perhaps wondering if she’d just been insulted. “That’s good, isn’t it?” She backed up, nearly stepping on her husband, waiting behind her. “Come along, Leonard. I’m sure Libby has a great deal to do.”

  They moved away between the tables, and Owen shook his head at her in mock disapproval. “Shame on you. What would your mother say about your baiting Sandra that way?”

  “She’d say I should know better, which I should.” She raised her camera. “So I’d better get back to taking photographs. Good seeing you, Owen.”

  While she was at it, she really needed to readjust her thinking to the small-town mindset. Libby mov
ed among the tables, snapping photos, agreeing that the bride was beautiful, the ceremony had been perfect, and yes, it was sad that her father wasn’t here to see this day. This last one required gritting her teeth a few times, but she managed. Mom would be proud of her.

  Her gaze sought out her mother in the crowded room. Geneva Morgan was doing her duty, of course, speaking to every single person here. She probably hadn’t had a bite of her dinner, but her smile was radiant as she greeted guests.

  Would Mom be proud when she learned that her only daughter was now unemployed? Possibly, when she knew the circumstances. Mom was a great one for standing up for what was right. As for Libby’s own sense of that…maybe living in the competitive world of news photography had blurred her vision. If so, it was past time to regain her moral compass.

  She stopped at the Smalleys’ table, taking several photos of them out of a delayed sense of social guilt. Sandra beamed, adjusting the collar of her pink sequined top. Leonard, whose habitual expression was one of faintly worried absentmindedness, looked like a white rabbit that had strayed into the party by mistake.

  “Smile, Leonard. You’re happy for the bride and groom, aren’t you?”

  He produced something that was more of a grimace, and she snapped the photo.

  “That’s great,” she said. At least when she photographed car smashups, she didn’t have to coax a smile from people. A faint memory teased at her mind. “By the way, didn’t I see—”

  She stopped, glancing across the room, her gaze caught by Adam Byler. He stood a little apart from the crowd, cell phone pressed to his ear.

  A small, icy thread traced its way down her spine. Adam looked solemn—there was nothing in that. He always did. But something about the call had frozen him into immobility for just a moment. Then his gaze swung around the room. It reached her. It stopped.

  Something was wrong. The thread became a torrent of cold. Something was very wrong, because Adam was moving through the crowd toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.