Hidden in Plain View. Diane Burke

fear he’d seen in her eyes moments before he squeezed the life out of her.

      He’d learned many things in his lifetime. One of the most important lessons was that when you needed to infiltrate enemy lines, it was best to blend in, give off an air of confidence, act like you belonged exactly where you were.

      It had served him well over the years. His enemies had never sensed his presence—even though he was often right in their midst, hiding in plain sight, as the saying goes.

      He stepped back, donned his straw hat and headed to the door.

      * * *

      Nighttime in hospitals always gave Sam the willies. Fewer staff. People speaking in whispers. Tonight his “willies alert” was operating on full throttle. Some cops called it gut instinct. Either way, Sam hated the tension that shot along his nerve endings, the fingers of unease that crept up his spine.

      The only discernible sound as he moved through the empty corridors was the soft whirring of machines from open doorways, an occasional whimper of pain or a soft snore.

      He was tired. Bone tired. He hadn’t had more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past thirty-six hours, and it was beginning to catch up with him. He wasn’t a kid anymore—thirty-four on his next birthday, and he needed those eight hours of sleep. Or at least six. Who was he kidding? He’d settle for four if he could snatch them.

      He glanced into the rooms as he passed by. They’d taken a risk when they’d moved Sarah to the pediatric floor. He didn’t want to imagine the uproar the parents of these children would unleash if they had any idea that the bait to catch a killer had just been moved into their midst.

      Captain Rogers had arranged the move. He firmly believed this would be the last floor in the hospital the perpetrator would expect to find Sarah. The captain didn’t seem worried about the sensitive location. He was certain that even if the killer did locate Sarah, the children would be safe because they weren’t his target. Sarah was.

      Sam moved past the rooms filled with sleeping children. He offered a silent prayer that the captain hadn’t made a horrendous mistake. As he drew near Sarah’s room, he recognized the officer sitting in front of the door.

      “Hey, Fitch, how’s it going?”

      The policeman folded his newspaper and grinned when he saw Sam approach. He gestured with his head toward the door.

      “You’d think she was a Hollywood celebrity or something. Orders came down from the top that this is the last day allowed for visitation. It’s been a steady stream of Amish folks in and out all afternoon saying their goodbyes. First thing tomorrow morning, the only Amish visitor allowed to visit is her former mother-in-law, Rebecca Lapp. No one else. Period.”

      Sam nodded. “Good. How did everyone else take the news?”

      “Truthfully, I think they were a little relieved. They’ve been taking turns keeping vigil at the hospital all week. I’m sure they want to return to their homes and their farms.”

      Officer Brian Fitch stood and stretched his back. “I must admit I’m glad they’ve cut back on visiting. Less work for me. I hear the Amish go down when the sun does, so that’s probably why it’s been quiet the last few hours.” Fitch shot a glance at Sam’s Amish attire. “No offense intended or anything.”

      Sam grinned. “None taken. You’re right. The Amish do go to bed early because they are up before dawn each day to begin their chores. Running a farm is not an easy task.”

      Sam leaned his hand flat against the door and then paused before he pushed it open. “You look beat. Why don’t you go stretch your legs? Maybe grab a cup of coffee while you’re at it? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

      “You sure?”

      Sam opened his jacket and patted the gun in his shoulder holster. “I’m still a cop. Remember?”

      Fitch grinned. “Yeah, well, you sure could fool me. You look like a natural fit with the rest of those folks. If I hadn’t recognized you from our precinct, I’d be checking your ID and trying to talk you out of visiting altogether.”

      Sam grinned. “That coffee is calling your name, Fitch.”

      “You want me to bring you something back?”

      “No, I’m good.”

      Taking advantage of Sam’s offer to cover the room, the guard nodded and hurried to the elevator banks, not giving Sam a chance to change his mind.

      The telltale ding of the arriving elevator filled the silence of the night, and Fitch waved. Sam gave him a nod and then entered Sarah’s room.

      FOUR

      The night-light above the hospital bed cast the room in a soft, white haze. Sam looked down upon the sleeping woman, and his breath caught in his throat.

      With stress and pain absent from her expression, she looked peaceful, young and surprisingly beautiful.

      Long blond hair poked from beneath the bandages that swathed her head and flowed like golden silk over her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, giving her smooth complexion a rosy glow. Lost in sleep and probably dreaming, her lips formed a tiny pout. For the second time in as many days, he had to fight the temptation to taste the softness of those lips.

      She was young and vulnerable and...

      And she took his breath away.

      Although he’d found her attractive when they’d first met, he’d been consumed with the business of ensuring her safety and nothing else.

      But now...

      In the quiet semidarkness of the evening, she reminded him of a sleeping princess and, for one insane moment, he felt an urge to awaken the princess with a kiss.

      Shocked by that unexpected and traitorous thought, he stepped back from the bed as quickly as if he had touched an electrified fence, and then chuckled at his foolishness.

      His eyes fell on a white kapp resting on the hospital tray table beside Sarah’s bed. Rebecca must have placed it there. Sam wondered why. Rebecca had to know that Sarah’s injuries would not allow her to wear the kapp for quite some time.

      Then he glanced around the room and grinned. The middle-aged woman was sly like a fox. This room was a sterile slice of the Englischer’s world. Monitors. Hospital bed. Even a television hanging on the far wall. This kapp resting in plain sight and at arm’s length would be a constant reminder of the Amish world waiting for Sarah’s return.

      He glanced at Sarah’s sleeping form one more time before he forced himself to turn away. Before exiting the room, he stepped inside the bathroom. He needed to throw some cold water on his face and try to wake up. His exhaustion was making him think crazy thoughts, have crazy feelings.

      He used the facilities and washed his hands. He turned off the water and was drying his hands on a paper towel when a sound caught his attention. He paused and concentrated, listening to the silence.

      There it was again. Just the whisper of sound, like the soft rustling of clothing against skin as a person moved about.

      He crumpled the paper towel into a ball, tossed it into the trash can and pushed open the bathroom door. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the change from bright to dim light as he reentered Sarah’s room. A tall man dressed in Amish clothing stood in the shadows on the far side of Sarah’s bed.

      A feeling of unease slithered up Sam’s spine. Why would an Amish man be visiting at this time of night, and without a female companion in tow? Sam slid his jacket aside for easy access to his gun and stepped farther into the room.

      “May I help you?” he asked in Pennsylvania Dutch dialect.

      The visitor didn’t reply. He removed his straw hat and nodded as a person who was apologizing for the late-night visit might. He sidestepped around the bed.

      Sam