Amish Refuge. Debby Giusti

the window. Abram leaned into the car.

      His uncle’s face was drawn, his eyes filled with sadness.

      “Go home, Abram, and lock your doors.” Samuel flicked his gaze to the fleeing figure in the distance. “Keep Emma inside.”

      Thankfully, his uncle had not questioned Miriam’s even gait and, instead, had mistaken the Englischer for his sister.

      Knowing something serious was underfoot, Abram pressed for more information. “What is it you are trying to tell me, Samuel?”

      “I mentioned that the Petersville police found a car at the river’s edge. When I got there, they were searching the back seat and taking prints. They found a woman’s purse.”

      “The handbag belongs to the person who owns the car?”

      The sheriff nodded but the pull of his jaw told Abram more than a purse was at stake.

      “The trunk of the car was locked. They were preparing to break it open when I left.”

      A nerve twitched in Abram’s jaw. A roar filled his ears. He strained to hear the sheriff’s words.

      “The car is registered to a woman, age twenty-four. The police are trying to track her down.”

      Emma’s warning about Miriam floated again through Abram’s mind. She will bring trouble to this house.

      What had become of the peace and surety of his life? Overnight he had gone from calm to chaos.

      “The woman who owns the car is from a small town outside Knoxville,” Samuel continued. “One of Chief Tucker’s officers contacted the authorities there. Seems she lived with her mother and younger sister. All three women have been missing for a number of days. No one knows where they went. The daughter told the neighbors her mother had Alzheimer’s, yet the neighbors claimed the mother seemed normal.”

      Miriam had not mentioned her mother’s dementia.

      “The younger sister’s twenty-one.” The sheriff tugged on his jaw. “She’s missing, as well.”

      “What are you saying, Samuel?”

      “I’m saying you need to be on guard, Abram. Deputy Idler will stop by once they learn what’s in the trunk. I wanted him to alert you and the other Amish families who live out here if anything points to foul play. The circumstances are different, but I keep thinking about Rosie Glick, that Amish girl who went missing some months ago.”

      “Supposedly, Rose ran off with an Englisch boy.”

      “That’s what we thought at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

      Abram could no longer keep silent. “There is something I need to tell you, Samuel, that might tie—”

      Glancing at his watch, the sheriff held up his hand to cut Abram off. “It’ll have to wait. I’ve got to get back to town. Art Garner, one of my deputies, was involved in a vehicular accident on the road leading up Pine Lodge Mountain. He’s being air-evacuated to Atlanta. I told his wife I’d drive her to the hospital.”

      “You will return tomorrow?”

      The sheriff shook his head. “I need to handle some business while I’m in the city and won’t be back for at least three days. The Petersville police will be in charge of the investigation. Idler will be the point of contact on our end. He’ll keep you updated if new information surfaces.”

      The sheriff narrowed his gaze. “Be careful, Abram. Watch your back until the women are found.”

      “But, Samuel—” Before Abram could mention his houseguest, the sheriff pulled his sedan onto the roadway and sped down the hill, taking the fork in the road that headed to Willkommen.

      Tension tightened Abram’s spine as he gazed at his house in the distance. Miriam had come back out of the house and was standing on the porch, tugging at her hair. Was she fearful of what the sheriff had found?

      Slowly he walked toward her. In his mind, he laid out the many questions he needed to ask. Before he reached the drive, the sound of another car cut through the stillness.

      “Go inside, Miriam,” he called. “Now.”

      Her eyes widened, but thankfully she complied and closed the door behind her just as one of the Willkommen deputy’s cars pulled into the drive.

      Curtis Idler, midforties with a muscular build and receding hairline, climbed from the passenger side and nodded to Abram. He pointed to a second deputy behind the wheel. “You know Ned Quigley?”

      “We have never met, but Samuel has mentioned his name.” Abram bent and peered into the squad car. Ned was probably ten years younger than Idler, but a big man with full cheeks and curly hair. The deputy raised his hand in greeting. Abram nodded before turning his focus to Idler.

      A scowl covered the older deputy’s drawn face and angled jaw. “I came to warn you, Abram. A woman, probably midfifties, was shot twice. Her body was locked in the trunk of the car that was abandoned by the river. Looks like she’s been dead a few days. Thankfully she was zipped up tight in a plastic mattress bag or you would have smelled her even here.”

      Abram’s stomach soured at the thought of the dead woman jammed into the trunk of a car.

      Idler pulled a smartphone from his pocket. He tapped on the cell a number of times and then angled the screen so Abram could see the picture that came into view.

      “I know you Amish are against photography, but you need to see this.”

      As much as Abram did not want to look at the phone, his eyes were drawn there.

      “The murdered woman’s name is Leah Miller. She’s from Tennessee. This is the suspect we’re looking for,” the deputy continued. “A killer who’s considered armed and dangerous.”

      Abram’s heart lurched as he stared at the photo.

      A killer? Armed and dangerous?

      Something was terribly wrong.

      Abram fought to control his emotions as Idler climbed into the passenger seat and Quigley backed the car out of the drive.

      All Abram could see was the photo on Idler’s phone.

      The photo was of Miriam.

      Miriam was not a killer. Or was she?

       FOUR

      Miriam stood next to the woodstove, but even with the warmth from the burning logs she felt chilled to the core. Her hands shook as she shoved hair back from her face and braced herself for Abram’s reproach.

      Emma washed apples in the kitchen sink, her back to Miriam, for which she was grateful. The woman’s silence was indication enough of the tension that filled the house.

      Abram’s heavy footfalls on the porch signaled his approach before the door opened and he stepped across the threshold. He glanced at Miriam with hooded blue eyes then he spoke to his sister in what must have been Pennsylvania Dutch from the harsh guttural sounds Miriam couldn’t understand.

      Emma nodded curtly and scurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Miriam to wrap her arms tightly around her midriff and pull in a deep breath. She was determined to stand her ground against the tall and muscular man whose presence sucked the air from her lungs.

      Serpent had warned her about other police officers working with him. He’d insisted that alerting law enforcement would cause Miriam more harm than good.

      “I do not know what the sheriff told you,” she said, taking the offensive before Abram could accuse her. She spread her hands. “As I mentioned to you earlier, I have done nothing wrong.”

      “You are quick to rationalize behavior about which I have not spoken.”

      Gathering