Hidden in Plain View

Sam took a moment to decide just how much he was willing to share with these men.

“In my youth, I witnessed too many things for a young boy to see. I witnessed theft of Amish goods that went unpunished. I witnessed bullying and cruelty against the Amish people, yet I could not raise my hand to retaliate.”

The men nodded.

“I witnessed worse. I witnessed drunken teens race their car into my father’s buggy just for the fun of it. My parents did not survive their prank.”

Several heartbeats of silence filled the room as everyone present absorbed what he’d said.

“The Amish forgive.” Sam shrugged. “I could not. So I left.”

“It is difficult sometimes to forgive, to not seek vengeance and to move on with life.” Jacob’s quiet voice held empathy. His eyes seemed to understand that Sam’s emotional wounds had not healed and still cut deep. “I understand how hard it can be. I just lost my only son. But...” He looked Sam straight in the eye. “It is not our place to judge.” When he spoke, his voice was soft and sad. “Judgment belongs only to God, ya?”

“And vengeance belongs to the Lord, not us,” Benjamin Miller added.

“I am not talking about vengeance,” Sam said, defending himself. “I am talking about justice.”

Jacob scrutinized Sam as if he were trying to determine his character from his words. “How do you know whether what you call justice, Detective King, is what God would call vengeance? Is it not best to leave these matters in God’s hands?”

A sad ghost of a smile twisted Sam’s lips. “I believe God intended for us to love one another, to help one another. I believe He expects us to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Children. Unborn babies. An innocent woman who doesn’t even know the gravity of her loss yet. Isn’t that God’s will?”

Jacob remained silent and pensive.

Sam had to work hard to control his emotions. There was no place in police work, particularly undercover police work, to let emotions control your actions or thoughts. But he understood these people. He’d been one of them. He knew they were pacifists who refused to fight back. If a gunman walked up and shot them dead on the street, they’d believe it was God’s will.

How was he going to make them understand the danger they were in? Or worse, defend against that danger? Jacob was their bishop. He was the one he had to win over. Sam knew the only hope he had of convincing Lapp to go along with the plan was to drive home the pain the man was still feeling from his loss. He challenged him with a hard stare.

“Are you willing to accept responsibility for the deaths of your loved ones, Bishop? Your neighbors’ loved ones? To never see your grandchild? To attend the funerals of your neighbors’ children? Because you will be killing them just as if you held the gun and shot them yourself.”

Sam’s voice had a hardened edge, but he made no apologies for his harshness. He had to make these men understand the seriousness of the situation if he stood any chance of saving their lives.

“Please, sir, listen to me,” he continued. “A stranger entered your Amish schoolhouse on a beautiful, peaceful spring afternoon. He cared only about diamonds, not about God or the sanctity of life.” Sam placed his forearms on the table and leaned closer. “This isn’t his first crime. We suspect him of many other crimes, but have been unable to bring him to justice.

“No one who would be able to describe him has lived to talk about it—except Sarah. Don’t be fooled. He will return. He will find a way to walk freely among you. He is not above using your children—perhaps killing your children—to accomplish his goals. You will never sense the danger until it is too late.”

The three men shot concerned glances at one another.

“Please,” Sam pleaded. “Even with your help, we cannot promise that he won’t succeed. We are chasing a shadow.”

Sam paused, letting the men absorb his words. He gestured toward the other law-enforcement officers in the room.

“We are not asking you to take up arms or fight back. But we cannot protect you from the outside alone. If we stand any chance of stopping this man, then we must be close. We must be on the inside. We are asking for your help.”

Jacob’s head bent, and his lips moved in silent prayer. After a few moments of silence, he wiped a tear from his cheek and turned to the other Amish men.

“How can we not help?” he asked. “This is our Sarah. Hasn’t she been hurt enough? These are our children he speaks of. Is it not our duty as parents to protect them? And what of the innocent child Sarah carries? Must we not protect that child, too?”

“Jacob, you know if this horrible thing he speaks of happens, then it is the will of God.” Benjamin’s voice was insistent. “We must accept the will of God.”

Jacob nodded slowly. “Ya, Benjamin, you are right. We must accept the will of God.” After a moment, he made eye contact with Benjamin. “Your Mary was in that classroom...and your Daniel and William.” Jacob glanced from him to the other man. “Matthew, your children, Emma, Joseph, John, Amos...they were there that terrible day, too.” His eyes implored both men. “Are we so eager to let the wolf snatch them away that we stand aside and open the door?”

Benjamin blanched as the realization of what was at stake finally hit him. Visibly shaken, he lowered his head, his voice almost a whisper. “But if it is God’s will...”

“I agree. We must accept God’s will.” Jacob leaned forward and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I have to ask you, Benjamin, how many detectives do we know who used to be Amish? Maybe sending Samuel to us is the will of God.”

The men exchanged looks, whispered together in hushed tones and then nodded their heads.

This time, Jacob looked directly at the police captain. “We will agree to this. But please, sir, find the man you seek quickly. We cannot endure this situation for long.”

The captain stood and thanked the men for their cooperation. “We will be placing undercover officers in your town. They will deliver your mail, pick up your milk and serve in your local shops and restaurants. But only one will actually enter your home—Detective Samuel King.”

Sam hadn’t been back on Amish soil for more than a decade. He’d have to keep his emotions in check, his mind clear and his thoughts logical. A woman’s life, and that of her unborn child, were at stake. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he prayed he’d be up to the challenge.

TWO

Sarah stared out the window. It had been one week since the shootings, two days since she’d awakened in this hospital room and they still hadn’t caught the shooter.

She watched the people below in the parking lot.

Was he out there? Waiting? Plotting? Biding his time like a poisonous snake in the grass, coiled and ready to strike?

Would he come back for her? And if he did, this time...

Sarah didn’t have to remember the past to know that she had no desire to die in the present.

She studied the men passing beneath her window. Did any of them look up in her direction? Was the killer watching her even now?

Fear shuddered through her.

How could she protect herself when she didn’t even know what the man who posed a threat looked like? How could she help the police catch him before he could hurt more people if her mind continued to be nothing more than a blank slate?

Her mother-in-law, Rebecca, and the doctor had filled her in on what they knew of the details of that day.

The story they had told her was tragic. But she had no emotional connection to that schoolroom, or to the children who had fled out the back door and summoned help, or, even worse, to the man who had once shared her life and was now dead and buried.

She knew people expected an emotional response from her—tears, at least—but she felt nothing.

Surprise? Yes.

Empathy? Of course.

Pain? Grief?

No. They were the emotions she saw every time she looked at the sadness etched in Rebecca’s face. She had lost a son.

Sarah had lost a stranger.

Earlier Rebecca had told Sarah that she’d been raised Englisch until the age of eight. Try as she might, she couldn’t find any memory of those childhood years.

Following her mother’s death, she’d been adopted by her Amish grandmother, who had also passed on years ago. Then she’d come to live with Jacob and Rebecca, embraced the Amish faith and married their son. Sarah found it more difficult to come to terms with the person she was supposed to be than to try to summon grief she couldn’t feel.

She was a pregnant Amish widow recovering from multiple gunshot wounds and suffering from amnesia. That was her reality. That was the only world to which she could relate.

She couldn’t conjure up the slightest recollection of Peter Lapp. Had he been of average build? Or was he tall? Had he had blond hair like his mother? Or maybe brown?

Rebecca had told her they’d been married five years and were happy together.

Had they been happy together? Were they still as much in love on the day of his death as they’d been the day they married? She hoped so. But can true love be forgotten as easily as a breath of air on a spring day? If they’d been soul mates, shouldn’t she feel something? Have some sense of loss deep in her being, even if she couldn’t remember the features of his face or the color of his hair?

Rebecca had also told her that she’d had two prior miscarriages. Had Sarah told her husband about this pregnancy? Were they happy about this blessing or anxious and fearful that it, too, would fail?

A surge of emotion stole her breath away. It wasn’t grief. It was anger.

She wanted to be able to grieve for her husband. She wanted to be able to miss him, to shed tears for him. Instead, all she felt was guilt for not remembering the man. Not the sound of his voice. Not the feel of his touch. Not even the memory of his face. What kind of wife was she that a man who had shared her life was nothing more to her now than a story on someone else’s lips?

She was no longer a complete human being. She was nothing more than an empty void and had nothing within to draw upon. No feelings for her dead husband. No feelings for an unborn child she hadn’t even known she carried. No memories of what kind of person she had been. She was broken, damaged goods and of no use to anyone.

Please, God, help me. Please let me climb out of this dark and frightening place.

In the stillness of her empty room, the tears finally came.

* * *

Sam stood up from the chair outside Sarah’s door and stretched his legs. Hours had passed since Rebecca had left with Jacob. He hadn’t heard a sound lately, and the silence made him uneasy. Quietly, he opened the door and peeked inside.

He was surprised to see Sarah out of bed and standing at the window. Her floor-length robe seemed to swallow up her petite, frail figure. The swish of the door opening drew her attention.

“Hi.” Sam stepped into the room. “Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

Sarah offered a feeble smile. “The nurses had me up a few times today. I won’t get stronger just lying in bed.”

Sam could see she wasn’t having an easy time of it. Dark circles colored the skin beneath her eyes in a deep purplish hue. The telltale puffiness told him that she’d been crying. Her sky-blue eyes were clouded over with pain and perhaps even a little fear.

“It is kind of you to show concern, Detective King.” Her voice sounded fragile and tired.

“Please, call me Samuel.”

He flinched at the sound of his true Amish name slipping from his lips. Donning Amish clothes had returned him to his roots. But the sound of his given name instead of Sam sealed the deal. He had stepped back in time—and it was the last place he wanted to be.

“Samuel.” The sound of his name in her soft, feminine voice drew his attention back to her. She smiled again, but it was only a polite gesture. Happiness never lit her eyes. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought I’d poke my head in and make sure you’re all right.”

“Thank you, but you needn’t bother. I’m fine.” A shadow crossed her face.

Fine? He didn’t think so. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the puzzled expression on her face until she questioned him.

“Who are you, Samuel?”

She stood with her back to the window and studied him.

Who was he? He’d told her he was a detective. Was her loss of memory getting worse?

Sarah went right to the point. “You dress like an Amish man. Our men are not detectives.” Her eyes squinted as she studied him.

She looked as if she might be holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“I assure you, Sarah, I am a detective.”

“And the Amish clothes? Is it a disguise?”

“Yes—and no. I was raised Amish. I left my home in Ohio and joined the police force about fifteen years ago.”

“Ohio? You are very far from home, aren’t you?” she asked.

Was that empathy he saw in her eyes? She was feeling sorry for him. Didn’t that beat all?

“I wanted to get as far away as I could.” Sam shrugged, and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “Memories aren’t always good.”

She pondered his words before she spoke again. “Don’t the Amish shun you if you leave?”

He found her words interesting. She could pull the definition of shunning from her memory banks but talked about it as if it wasn’t part of her own culture, as if the term was nothing more than something she had read in a dictionary.

“I have no family to shun me.”

The gentlest of smiles teased the corner of her lips. “Everyone has a family at one time or another, Samuel.”

Her words hit a tender spot. She was getting much too personal. He didn’t want to open that door for her. He didn’t want to share that pain. He was acting as her bodyguard, nothing more, and the less emotional connection between them the better.

Attempting to change the subject, he said, “I’m sure you’ve been up and about enough for one day. Why don’t you let me help you get back into bed so you can get some rest.”

She allowed him to hold her elbow and support her as she crossed the room. “It must have been difficult for you to leave your Amish religion behind.”

Her soft blue eyes stared up at him.

Sam smiled. He was fast learning that she was a stubborn woman, not easily distracted when she wanted to know something, and right now it was obvious that she wanted to know about him.

“I left religion behind, not God,” he replied. “I carry God with me every day—in here and in here.” He pointed to his head and his heart. “Memories were the only thing I left behind, painful ones.”

Since her left arm was useless because of the sling and the IV bag and pole still attached to her right hand, Sam put his hands on both sides of her waist to lift her up onto the bed. Although tiny and petite, he couldn’t help but note the slightly thickening waist beneath his touch. The signs of her pregnancy were starting to show, and the protective emotions that surfaced surprised him.

Her saucerlike eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and he fought not to lose himself in their beauty.

“I wish I had some memories,” she whispered.

The minty scent of her breath fanned his face, and the slightly parted pose of her lips tempted him to lower his head and steal a taste of their tantalizing softness.

Instead, he removed her slippers and, after she positioned herself back on the pillows, he covered her with a blanket.

“Memories aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, Sarah. I have memories, but no one to love me. You don’t have memories, but you have people who love you very much.”

She acknowledged his words with a nod and a pensive expression.

Her fragile beauty spoke to him, stirring emotions and feelings better left dormant. Stepping back, he subtly shook his head and reminded himself of his own rules.

Rule number one: never get emotionally involved with anyone in a case.

Rule number two: remember, at all times, that when working undercover none of it is real. You are living a lie.

“So, you didn’t answer me. Why are you dressed like an Amish man, Detective King?”

He searched her face, looking for any signs of fear or weakness. He found instead only interest and curiosity.

“This shooter is highly intelligent. He managed to pull off a massive diamond heist without leaving a trace. No images on surveillance cameras. No witnesses. No mistakes. Until now.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “This time he left behind a pouch full of diamonds. The doctors found the pouch pinned inside the waistband of your skirt when you were brought into the emergency room.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, but otherwise she remained still and waited for him to continue.

“This time he was sloppy. He left behind a witness. You.” His eyes locked with hers. “He believes that you still have the diamonds in your possession. And he doesn’t believe in leaving witnesses behind. There is no question. He will be back.”

Fear crept into her eyes. “But you told me the doctors found the diamonds. I don’t have them anymore, do I?”

“No. But he doesn’t know that.”

“Then I have to go away. I have to hide. I can’t be around anyone who could be hurt because of me.”

His admiration for her rose. She was worried about people she couldn’t remember, and not about the imminent threat to herself.

“The safest thing for you and for everyone else is for you to return to your community. It will be harder for him to reach you and easier for everyone involved to recognize an outsider.”

“Is he a threat to anyone besides me?”

“He is a really bad man, Sarah. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He could snatch a child. Harm one of your neighbors while looking for information. He is evil in human form.” Gently, he tilted her chin up with his index finger and looked into her eyes. “But you and I will work together, and we will not let that happen. I promise.”

Sam couldn’t believe he had just said what he did.

Promise? The two of them working together? Was he crazy talking to her like this? Like they were a team fighting against evil?

Had he lost his mind?

“How can I help? I seem pretty useless to everyone these days.” She smiled but seemed totally unaware of how the gesture lit up her face like a ray of sudden sunshine.

He liked making her smile. He liked easing her pain and stress. He tried to identify this tumble of feelings she stirred within him despite his attempt to stay neutral.

Pity? No. Sarah Lapp was too strong a woman to be pitied.

Admiration. Respect. Yes, that was it. He refused to consider there was anything more.

“I will be moving back to the farm with you,” he said. “I’ll be your bodyguard while the rest of the police force concentrates on finding this guy. With my Amish background, it makes me the perfect choice for the job. I can blend in better than any of the other officers. I can help maintain respect for the Amish way of life.”

“Move in? With me?” Her eyes widened. Her mouth rounded in the shape of a perfect letter O, and a pink flush tinged her cheeks.

“We will both be staying with Rebecca and Jacob. We believe you will be the primary target because the shooter still believes you possess the diamonds. You also saw his face and lived. He can’t afford to let you talk to the authorities. He will try to make sure that doesn’t happen. If we can apprehend him when he makes his move, then everyone else will be safe as well.”

“So I am going to be the bait to hook the fish?”

Now it was his turn for heat to rush into his face. He felt embarrassed and ashamed because she was right. He was using her as bait.

“It’s all right, Samuel. I understand. I will do this thing if it will help keep the others safe. When do we begin?”

“Soon.” He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “You will be in the hospital a little while longer. You still need time to heal. But try not to worry. I will not let anything happen to you while you are in my care.”

“I am not in your care, Samuel.” Her smile widened. “I am in God’s hands.”

“Then that is a good thing, ya? With God on our side, we can’t lose.” Sam grinned, hoping his cavalier attitude would build her confidence and help her relax. “Concentrate on regaining your strength. Let me worry about all the bad guys out there.”

The door pushed open behind them. Captain Rogers and Sam’s partner, Joe Masterson, stood in the doorway. “Detective King, may I see you in the hall for a moment?”

Sam released her hand. “I’ll be back. Remember, no worrying allowed. Everything is going to work for good, just the way the Lord intends.”

* * *

Sarah tried to still the apprehension that skittered over her nerve endings when she found herself alone in the room. The police were going to use her as bait to catch a killer. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could feel the rapid beating of her heart beneath her hand on her chest. Was she strong enough, brave enough?

You can do this. You must do this. These people need you to help them.

These people? Where had that thought come from? These were her people, weren’t they? Her family? She knew she felt a warm affection for both Rebecca and Jacob. They had been wonderfully kind and attentive to her since she’d come out of her coma.

But as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t feel a connection to them. At least not the kind of connection they seemed to expect. They were kind people. Loving people. But were they her people?

She tried again to conjure up a memory, even the slightest wisp of one, of Peter. Rebecca had told her that they’d grown up together and were the best of friends. They were happily married. They were expecting a child.

Sarah placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the slight swell beneath her touch. Their child. And she couldn’t even remember Peter’s face.

A stab of pain pierced her heart. She must be a shallow person to not remember someone she had obviously loved. Love goes soul deep, doesn’t it? Love wouldn’t be forgotten so quickly, would it?

Maybe it hadn’t been love. Maybe it had been friendship or convenience or companionship. Maybe it was an emotion that hadn’t claimed her heart at all. She would never know now.

Her eyes strayed to the hospital room door, and her thoughts turned to Samuel.

She was certain if a person were to fall in love with Samuel, it would be a deep, abiding love. It would be two souls uniting before God. It would last a lifetime and not be forgotten by injury or time.

Her heart fluttered in her chest at just the thought that she might be starting to have feelings for Samuel, before she angrily shooed them away.

Foolish notions. That was one thing she was quickly learning about herself. She was often a victim of foolish notions.

THREE

“There’s been another murder.”

Apprehension straightened Sam’s spine. “Another murder? Who? When?”

“Not here. Follow me.” Captain Rogers, Joe and Sam strode briskly to the conference room and took their seats. The tension in the room was almost palpable.

Sam stole a moment to study his superior’s face. The past seven days had made their mark. He noted his captain’s furrowed brow, the lines of strain etched on each side of his mouth, but what caught his attention the most was the bone-weary fatigue he saw in his eyes. The political pressure to find a quick solution to a complicated, ever-worsening scenario was taking its toll.

The captain folded his hands on the table. “There’s no sugarcoating this, so I’m just going to say it. Around 2:00 a.m. last night, Steven Miller was murdered.”

“Steven Miller?” Sam leaned back in his chair. “Isn’t that the name of the second diamond-heist robber?” He threw a hurried glance at both men. “Didn’t we have him in custody?”

“Yep. Same guy.” Joe’s expression was grim. “We had him under armed guard in a secluded room in a medical center in the Bronx.”