Amish Safe House. Debby Giusti

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.