Amish Safe House. Debby Giusti

      Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

      —Proverbs 3:5–6

      To our law enforcement heroes.

      May God bless them and keep them in His care.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       PROLOGUE

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       NINETEEN

       TWENTY

       TWENTY-ONE

       TWENTY-TWO

       TWENTY-THREE

       TWENTY-FOUR

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       PROLOGUE

      Gunfire!

      Julia Bradford’s pulse raced. “Kayla, where’s your brother?”

      “He took out the trash.”

      Julia rinsed the plate she was washing and glanced at the overflowing trash bag still on the floor by the kitchen counter, then peered through the window at the dumpster in the empty alleyway below.

      Another round of gunshots. Her heart thumped a warning. She wiped her hand on a dish towel and hurried into the living area. “When did he leave?”

      Her seven-year-old daughter clutched her doll and shrugged. Thankfully, Kayla seemed oblivious to the gang warfare that held this part of the inner city hostage.

      “Come with me.” Julia reached for her daughter’s hand.

      Kayla reluctantly rose from the floor, still holding her doll, and slipped her small hand into her mother’s. “Where are we going?”

      “To Mrs. Fielding’s apartment.”

      Kayla’s face broke into a wide smile. “Maybe she baked cookies today.”

      If only all of life’s problems could be solved with a cookie.

      “Hurry.” Julia ushered her daughter into the stairwell and up one flight of steps.

      She knocked on the apartment door. “Mrs. Fielding?”

      Relieved when the sweet neighbor with the warm gaze and understanding smile opened the door, Julia gently guided Kayla through the doorway.

      “William’s outside,” she explained. “I heard gunshots.”

      The older woman’s brown eyes widened. “Lord, protect that boy.”

      “Can you watch Kayla?”

      “Of course, dear.”

      “Lock the door, Mrs. Fielding. The gangs have started following their victims into stairwells.”

      “God help us.” The woman moaned as she pointed Kayla toward the table. “Sit there, baby. I’ll get you a cookie.”

      Once the door closed, Julia waited to hear the click of the dead bolt fall into place before she raced down the stairs, pushed on the outer door and stepped into the cool night air.

      A