Lancaster County Target. Kit Wilkinson

the day’s events.

      “I really don’t mind,” he said.

      He seemed sincere, so Abby decided to infringe on his kindness a bit further. The more she thought about it, if she didn’t go by her house, then Eli would have to, and that would upset Hannah and get the night off to a bad start. “Actually, if you really wouldn’t mind, it would give me a chance to check on Zoe, Chloe and Blue-jeans.”

      “Zoe, Chloe and Blue-jeans?” He shot her a furtive look.

      “My two cats and my horse.”

      “You have a horse?”

      “Yes, and a buggy, too. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to sell it or not.” Abby glanced at Blake. His big, chocolate eyes were soft and smiling. The rest of him was stiff and businesslike. At the hospital he’d been like that, too—two-sided. One very kind. The other standoffish. She wondered which message was the true Blake.

      “I would love to ride in a horse and buggy,” he said.

      “Well, when I’m feeling better, I’d be happy to take you out in mine.” Abby stopped as the words sank in. To an Amish man, an invitation like that would sound as if she was inviting him on a courting date. Fortunately, the doctor wasn’t Amish and would take the invitation in the spirit it was given—as a friendly gesture and nothing more.

      “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Thank you. And of course, you should check on your animals. You should have said so. You live on a farm? You must have some land if you have a horse, right? This is all new to me. I’ve lived my whole life in an apartment on the Upper East Side.”

      The upper east side of what? Am I supposed to know what he’s talking about? “It’s not a farm,” she said. “I mean it is. But I don’t farm anything. I run a clinic. I lease the land out to a real farmer.... Sorry. I’m rambling.”

      Following her directions, Blake maneuvered his way slowly around the buggy that they’d been stuck behind for the past quarter mile. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of her home and clinic.

      “I’ll be quick.” She hopped out of the car but paused when she saw how dark the house was. If it hadn’t been for the headlights of Blake’s car, they wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.

      “Is something wrong?” He parked in her semicircle driveway, leaving his headlights to shine over the front porch.

      “I don’t think so.” She forced a smile and searched in her bag for the house key. A feeling of dread passed through her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong here, but she tried to ignore it. Likely it was nothing more than nerves—hardly surprising after the day she’d had. “I guess the sensors on my porch lights are broken? Those lights usually come on when it gets dark.”

      “Let me come up to the door with you, just to be safe. You weren’t too steady on your feet earlier and shouldn’t be stumbling around in the dark.” He turned off the engine, but left his headlights on to shine over the front porch. “What a great house.”

      “Thanks.” Abby fumbled with her key, taking what seemed like an interminably long time to unlock the door. Blake stood back as she went in and reached for the lights. Nothing happened as she flicked the light switch.

      “Looks like the power is out.” She headed across the dark space to a small hutch. She tried to turn on a small lamp. Nothing. “Yep, it must be the power. I have a flashlight in the bottom drawer here. Once we get to the kitchen, I can check the electrical panel. Just a second.”

      Abby rummaged through the drawers of the hutch. “I know that flashlight is—”

      Blake’s hand came down on her shoulder, giving her a chill.

      “Shh,” he whispered. “There’s someone else in the house.”

      Abby swallowed hard as her hands finally landed around the flashlight she’d been looking for. Turning it on, she pointed it down the hallway in time to see a dark shadow flash across the entrance to her kitchen. Blake’s hand swiftly eased the light from her hand.

      “Stay here,” he said before taking off toward the dark figure.

      Abby wasn’t about to stand there in the dark. She followed right behind him, feeling a cold blast of night air blow over her as she entered the kitchen. Blake flashed the light in every direction. The back door was wide open. Whoever the intruder had been, he’d escaped without a sound.

      FOUR

      Abby rushed for the open door, but Blake grabbed her arm and pulled her back. After the day they’d had, he wasn’t too sure running out into the darkness after the unknown was a good idea. Better to fix whatever had been done to the electricity. It would be much easier to spot the intruder with the floodlights on.

      “I thought I told you to stay put.”

      “I didn’t want to stay back there in the dark by myself.”

      Blake couldn’t argue with her reasoning, even though he was pretty certain he’d never met anyone as hardheaded as Abby Miller. In any case, he’d spotted her circuit-breaker panel a few feet from the door. The door to the panel had been opened as if someone had been making adjustments.

      “Maybe the power wasn’t off after all. Looks like someone’s been messing with your breakers. Here, take this.” He handed the flashlight to her. “Shine the light this way.”

      Blake opened the metal panel. As he’d suspected, the main breaker had been turned off. He flipped it back to the “on” position. Abby was right beside him, turning on both the inside and outside lights. The backyard lit up. Together they scanned the area from the back stoop. Blake saw open fields, a run-in shed and a horse grazing in a large paddock. No intruder.

      “I guess we surprised whoever it was and he left.”

      “I hope so,” Blake said. “But let’s check the rest of the house anyway.”

      Room by room, Blake followed Abby through the house. Nothing looked out of order. When they reached the foyer again, Blake noticed an interior door that in the darkness he hadn’t seen behind the front entrance. The sign on the door read Abigail Miller, R.N. and Certified Midwife, Consultation, Mondays and Wednesdays 12–4. “Impressive.”

      “Thanks. I went all-out when I designed the clinic. I wanted to bring the best to Willow Trace.” She walked past him. “And this door was locked when I left for the hospital this morning. I’m certain of that.”

      Blake followed her into the clinic and saw that Abigail had built a state-of-the-art facility inside the old cottage. It had been thoughtfully and tastefully done and unlike the rest of the house, which had been so simple and plain, everything here spoke of modern medicine and technology. In its usual state, it was unquestionably very impressive. Right now, it looked like a disaster area. Abby gasped as she staggered forward. Broken glass crunched under her feet. The examining area had been trashed. Boxes of supplies had been strewn across the space. All the shelves had been stripped and their contents spilled all over the table, counters and flooring.

      Tears streamed down her face. He could tell she was trying to wipe them away before he could see, but they wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. And this is so unbelievable.... Two weeks ago, I decide that my calling is nursing, that I don’t want to give it up. I told my family. My father. He’s so upset with me. I had such a peace about it...but now? My wonderful clinic that I created just a few years ago has been ruined and I...don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

      Blake knew she wasn’t really talking to him, just venting aloud her frustration and fatigue. His heart felt heavy for her. He felt as if the very center of his life had been destroyed, too, when his parents died in that plane crash. He and Abby definitely had something in common—they were both struggling with their direction and their families.

      He looked at her standing there sobbing. He had to do something.