Hidden in Plain View. Diane Burke

be killing them just as if you held the gun and shot them yourself.”

      Sam’s voice had a hardened edge, but he made no apologies for his harshness. He had to make these men understand the seriousness of the situation if he stood any chance of saving their lives.

      “Please, sir, listen to me,” he continued. “A stranger entered your Amish schoolhouse on a beautiful, peaceful spring afternoon. He cared only about diamonds, not about God or the sanctity of life.” Sam placed his forearms on the table and leaned closer. “This isn’t his first crime. We suspect him of many other crimes, but have been unable to bring him to justice.

      “No one who would be able to describe him has lived to talk about it—except Sarah. Don’t be fooled. He will return. He will find a way to walk freely among you. He is not above using your children—perhaps killing your children—to accomplish his goals. You will never sense the danger until it is too late.”

      The three men shot concerned glances at one another.

      “Please,” Sam pleaded. “Even with your help, we cannot promise that he won’t succeed. We are chasing a shadow.”

      Sam paused, letting the men absorb his words. He gestured toward the other law-enforcement officers in the room.

      “We are not asking you to take up arms or fight back. But we cannot protect you from the outside alone. If we stand any chance of stopping this man, then we must be close. We must be on the inside. We are asking for your help.”

      Jacob’s head bent, and his lips moved in silent prayer. After a few moments of silence, he wiped a tear from his cheek and turned to the other Amish men.

      “How can we not help?” he asked. “This is our Sarah. Hasn’t she been hurt enough? These are our children he speaks of. Is it not our duty as parents to protect them? And what of the innocent child Sarah carries? Must we not protect that child, too?”

      “Jacob, you know if this horrible thing he speaks of happens, then it is the will of God.” Benjamin’s voice was insistent. “We must accept the will of God.”

      Jacob nodded slowly. “Ya, Benjamin, you are right. We must accept the will of God.” After a moment, he made eye contact with Benjamin. “Your Mary was in that classroom...and your Daniel and William.” Jacob glanced from him to the other man. “Matthew, your children, Emma, Joseph, John, Amos...they were there that terrible day, too.” His eyes implored both men. “Are we so eager to let the wolf snatch them away that we stand aside and open the door?”

      Benjamin blanched as the realization of what was at stake finally hit him. Visibly shaken, he lowered his head, his voice almost a whisper. “But if it is God’s will...”

      “I agree. We must accept God’s will.” Jacob leaned forward and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I have to ask you, Benjamin, how many detectives do we know who used to be Amish? Maybe sending Samuel to us is the will of God.”

      The men exchanged looks, whispered together in hushed tones and then nodded their heads.

      This time, Jacob looked directly at the police captain. “We will agree to this. But please, sir, find the man you seek quickly. We cannot endure this situation for long.”

      The captain stood and thanked the men for their cooperation. “We will be placing undercover officers in your town. They will deliver your mail, pick up your milk and serve in your local shops and restaurants. But only one will actually enter your home—Detective Samuel King.”

      Sam hadn’t been back on Amish soil for more than a decade. He’d have to keep his emotions in check, his mind clear and his thoughts logical. A woman’s life, and that of her unborn child, were at stake. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he prayed he’d be up to the challenge.

      TWO

      Sarah stared out the window. It had been one week since the shootings, two days since she’d awakened in this hospital room and they still hadn’t caught the shooter.

      She watched the people below in the parking lot.

      Was he out there? Waiting? Plotting? Biding his time like a poisonous snake in the grass, coiled and ready to strike?

      Would he come back for her? And if he did, this time...

      Sarah didn’t have to remember the past to know that she had no desire to die in the present.

      She studied the men passing beneath her window. Did any of them look up in her direction? Was the killer watching her even now?

      Fear shuddered through her.

      How could she protect herself when she didn’t even know what the man who posed a threat looked like? How could she help the police catch him before he could hurt more people if her mind continued to be nothing more than a blank slate?

      Her mother-in-law, Rebecca, and the doctor had filled her in on what they knew of the details of that day.

      The story they had told her was tragic. But she had no emotional connection to that schoolroom, or to the children who had fled out the back door and summoned help, or, even worse, to the man who had once shared her life and was now dead and buried.

      She knew people expected an emotional response from her—tears, at least—but she felt nothing.

      Surprise? Yes.

      Empathy? Of course.

      Pain? Grief?

      No. They were the emotions she saw every time she looked at the sadness etched in Rebecca’s face. She had lost a son.

      Sarah had lost a stranger.

      Earlier Rebecca had told Sarah that she’d been raised Englisch until the age of eight. Try as she might, she couldn’t find any memory of those childhood years.

      Following her mother’s death, she’d been adopted by her Amish grandmother, who had also passed on years ago. Then she’d come to live with Jacob and Rebecca, embraced the Amish faith and married their son. Sarah found it more difficult to come to terms with the person she was supposed to be than to try to summon grief she couldn’t feel.

      She was a pregnant Amish widow recovering from multiple gunshot wounds and suffering from amnesia. That was her reality. That was the only world to which she could relate.

      She couldn’t conjure up the slightest recollection of Peter Lapp. Had he been of average build? Or was he tall? Had he had blond hair like his mother? Or maybe brown?

      Rebecca had told her they’d been married five years and were happy together.

      Had they been happy together? Were they still as much in love on the day of his death as they’d been the day they married? She hoped so. But can true love be forgotten as easily as a breath of air on a spring day? If they’d been soul mates, shouldn’t she feel something? Have some sense of loss deep in her being, even if she couldn’t remember the features of his face or the color of his hair?

      Rebecca had also told her that she’d had two prior miscarriages. Had Sarah told her husband about this pregnancy? Were they happy about this blessing or anxious and fearful that it, too, would fail?

      A surge of emotion stole her breath away. It wasn’t grief. It was anger.

      She wanted to be able to grieve for her husband. She wanted to be able to miss him, to shed tears for him. Instead, all she felt was guilt for not remembering the man. Not the sound of his voice. Not the feel of his touch. Not even the memory of his face. What kind of wife was she that a man who had shared her life was nothing more to her now than a story on someone else’s lips?

      She was no longer a complete human being. She was nothing more than an empty void and had nothing within to draw upon. No feelings for her dead husband. No feelings for an unborn child she hadn’t even known she carried. No memories of what kind of person she had been. She was broken, damaged goods and of no use to anyone.

      Please,