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The truck slowed and Becky rolled back on her elbow, painful bone-to-metal contact. The engine still purred. Car door slammed. Heavy footsteps. Running.

  The cell phone grew slippery in her sweat-slicked hands.

  The tailgate flew open. She tried to hide the phone under her shirt, but with her hands bound, she was too slow. He ripped the phone from her hand and threw it across the road.

  Had he noticed what she had done?

  Lucas Handler, one of the young men conducting target practice behind her house had kidnapped her. And now Deputy Harrison James knew.

  She prayed.

  * * *

  “I don’t think we need to worry about those young men. I checked them out personally. They’re good kids,” the sheriff said, rubbing a hand across his jaw.

  Harrison gritted his teeth, trying to contain his growing anger and wishing he had full use of his left arm. “And you know this because one of them is your nephew.”

  The sheriff jerked back his head. “How did you...?” Letting his question trail off, he seemed to change his approach midsentence. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Tyler Flint was your nephew the minute I showed you his identification? The absence of transparency—” he spit the sheriff’s favorite word back at him “—makes me think either you or Tyler has something to hide.”

  The sheriff seemed to slump as he took a step back and then lowered himself into the hard plastic chair. “My nephew’s a good kid. Just impulsive. My sister sent him to live with me. Straighten him out. He’s got a scholarship to college next fall if he can keep his nose clean his senior year.”

  “You interfered with an investigation so your nephew wouldn’t get into trouble?” Anger pulsed through Harrison, making him sharper despite the meds in his system. All the color seemed to drain from the sheriff’s face. “What else haven’t you told us?”

  The sheriff ran a hand over his short haircut. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Harrison hated that he was stuck in this hospital bed when all he wanted to do was rip the IV out of his arm and... Grrr... “You let politics get in the way.”

  The sheriff squared his shoulders and looked every bit like the man running for office. “There is no indication my nephew did anything. There was no need to stir up trouble.”

  “Your omission makes me wonder what else you’re not telling me.”

  A muscle ticked in the sheriff’s jaw.

  A ding sounded from the plastic bag hanging over the hook at the back of the door. Worried that it might be Becky, he pointed at it. “Get my phone.”

  The sheriff shot him a glance, probably surprised his subordinate didn’t say please. However, considering their exchange, he no doubt realized he better do what Harrison had asked. Now. The sheriff stood, grabbed the bag and tossed it into Harrison’s lap.

  With one hand, Harrison found his folded up jeans and dug out his cell phone. He glanced at the display. He squinted at the screen, trying to figure out what Becky meant by “Lucas Handler.”

  Then the words that came through next send terror pressing into his heart: Kidnapped. Blue truck. GMC.

  The roaring in his ears drowned out all the other sounds in the small recovery room. He swiped his hand across the screen and pressed call. The phone rang and went to voice mail.

  “Call me.”

  “What’s going on?” the sheriff asked.

  “Becky just texted me. Now I can’t reach her.” Harrison called the number again and waited. Again, her voice mail.

  Harrison didn’t like this one bit. He flipped back the thin white hospital bedspread and gritted his teeth when pain shot through his arm. He hesitated a fraction of a moment before sliding the IV out of his hand. He gave the raw flesh on the back of his hand a quick glance before swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.

  “Whoa, whoa. I don’t think you’re supposed to get up.” The sheriff held up his hands as if he was going to try to stop him. Not likely.

  “Not only am I leaving, but you’re driving me.”

  THIRTEEN

  Every body part that came into contact with the steel bed of the pickup truck ached as the crazed driver made sharp turns and hit ruts. Becky would probably be black-and-blue all over tomorrow; that is, if she lived to see the sunrise.

  No, she’d live. She had to.

  She bit back a yelp as the truck turned, apparently off the smooth main road and onto a side road, maybe a driveway. The vehicle bobbled over each and every rut. Where was he taking her? She wished he had stuffed her in the backseat and not the back of the pickup, then maybe she’d have a chance to talk him out of this. As it stood, she just had that much longer to imagine her fate.

  “You’ll be fine,” she whispered to herself. The sound of her voice calmed her. “You’re a trained sheriff’s deputy.” She drew in a deep breath as the truck came to a sudden stop and she banged her head on the bump out from the wheel well. She yanked on her wrists, hoping against hope that the handcuffs had come loose.

  She tried to stretch her legs in the cramped space but it was of no use. She’d have to comply with his commands until she got her feet under her and her hands free.

  She found herself holding her breath. Listening.

  Car door slammed.

  Footsteps. Growing fainter.

  What does that mean? Is he leaving me here?

  A trickle of sweat trailed down her forehead and into her ear. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: being left trapped in the truck breathing in the stale smell of vinyl mixed with soil or being dragged out to some unknown fate.

  A bubble of panic welled up and threatened to consume her.

  Stay calm. You’ll be fine. She pressed her eyes shut and did something she should have done immediately. Dear Lord, protect me. Keep me clearheaded. Let me see the way out.

  Taking calming breaths, she listened harder. The sound of a car passing. Fast. They weren’t too far off the main road.

  Footsteps again.

  The tailgate creaked as he lowered it. Fresh air and moonlight flooded the space. Becky did her best to act calm. Keep this kid calm.

  “Where are we?” she asked, trying to take in as much as she could as he gripped her forearm and yanked her out of the truck. Unable to get her feet under her fast enough, she fell to her knees.

  Annoyed, Lucas wrenched her to her feet. “Hurry up.” He glanced around as if he feared someone was about to find them.

  She prayed that meant they weren’t in a remote location.

  Nothing struck Becky as unique. Trees, country road, small house hunkered in the shadows. Nothing to pinpoint her location. “Is this your house?” She avoided calling him by his name. That was her secret. She feared his reaction if he realized she knew his identity.

  When he didn’t answer, she asked again. “Do you live here?”

  “No, but someone I want you to see does,” the kid said, surprising her with an answer of any kind.

  “Are they home?”

  “He’s supposed to be, but he didn’t answer the door.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.

  “Do you know who I am? I’m a sheriff’s deputy. You’ll be in a lot of trouble for kidnapping a law-enforcement officer.”

  The kid scoffed. “If you were much of a deputy, you wouldn’t be so easily kidnapped.”

  “How’d that work out for you in the parking garage? Nose still hurt?” She took a shot at his self-confidence. He seemed to be deflated after learning no one was home. Had he kidnapped her on a dare? Wanted to show someone what he had done?

  He glared at her for a long minute before his expression shifted. “You won’t catch me off guard again.” He tugged on the handcuffs and pain ripped through her raw wrists. “Now look who has the upper hand.”

  “People will be looking for me.”


  “Maybe.” He seemed disinterested. “But will they find you in time?”

  He pushed her up two steps to the front porch. Their footfalls sounded loud on the wood slats as if they were the only people around for miles. Keys jangled and he pushed past her to unlock the door.

  He grabbed her forearm and shoved her inside. The place smelled closed up. Like someone had been away for a few days, at least. Lucas went to the keypad and entered the alarm code.

  “Who lives here?”

  “Shut up.” He shoved her and she bumped against the hall table. A collection of photos fell over like dominos. Behind her, the kid flipped on a light. A photo of Ned Reich stared back at her. He was standing with a woman, a little boy next to him. The portrait of a happy family.

  A flush of dread washed over her. She willed herself to be calm. “This is Ned Reich’s home. How do you know Ned?” Her entire scalp tingled and she struggled to swallow.

  Lucas flinched, but he set his jaw and glared at her, remaining silent.

  She tried again. “Who is this little boy in the photo? You?”

  “Shut up.” Lucas’s expression was hard. Angry. “Do I look like that snot-nosed kid?”

  “Why are we in Deputy Reich’s house? That’s where we are, right?” Was this some form of retribution toward her and Deputy Reich for their involvement in the Elijah Lapp incident? Or had he brought her here as punishment for her role in Reich’s suspension? The pieces didn’t quite fit.

  She studied his face. The dead look in his eyes made icy dread pool in her stomach.

  He grabbed her by the arm again and shoved her into the family room at the back of the house. A kitchen was visible on the other end. It was what she heard her Realtor call an open concept. All the ways Englischers lived baffled her when she first left the Amish. The Amish had clean, well-maintained homes, but all these extras were perplexing to her, even now.

  She had to lean back on her hands because of the handcuffs. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Lucas paced in front of her as if he had miscalculated something. His growing agitation was rubbing off on her. Making her skin buzz. She needed him to be calm. She needed to be calm.

  “You should have never been made a deputy. You’re not competent.” He pivoted and turned back around. He plowed a shaky hand through his straggly hair.

  “What did I ever do to you?” The words flew from her lips before she could call them back.

  “You took my job.” He kicked a stuffed animal that got in his way. Becky imagined a well-loved pet lived somewhere in this house.

  She studied him carefully, realizing there was no rationalizing with an irrational person. She couldn’t have taken his job any more than Harrison had taken his job. After all, Harrison had been hired after her. But for some reason he had focused on her as the guilty party. Why? Because she was an outsider? A woman? Because she had drawn his attention with all the news coverage of the beating of Elijah Lapp? Had he targeted her because he felt she was a symbol of everything that he felt was wrong with the system? Was he on a mission to hurt Deputy Reich, too?

  After leaving the Amish, Becky had immersed herself in newspaper and online articles about the world around her. A world she had been living in, but hadn’t been a part of. Initially, she had her doubts. Wondered if she made the right decision. The evil around her made her fantasize about running back to the insular world of her family. But God’s calling to live a different life had been louder than the whispers of uncertainty buzzing in her ears as she tried to fall asleep each night those first few lonely months.

  Now after all that, is this where I’m meant to die?

  She couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t. God hadn’t placed her on this difficult journey to have it end here.

  “Are you mad at me because of the incident with Deputy Reich?” She kept her tone soft, inquisitive.

  The man’s fingers flicked and closed, flicked and closed as he paced in front of her. He was growing more agitated, leading her to believe she was on the right track.

  “Are you looking to get back at Deputy Reich and me for hurting Elijah? Are you and Elijah friends?”

  He squinted at her. His mouth was twisted in a mocking grin. “You’d make a crummy detective.”

  She stared at him a long minute. “Is Deputy Reich a mentor of yours?”

  The man spun around and bent down and picked up one end of the coffee table. Candles, decorations and TV remotes crashed to the floor. She recoiled at the uncontrolled anger pulsing off him.

  “He is my father. He is my father. My father.” His face grew red and spittle flew from his lips.

  Becky blinked slowly, trying to let that register. This man was Ned Reich’s son. This man was out for revenge against her because of his father.

  She tugged at her handcuffs and feared the desperateness of the situation, but she forced herself to remain calm. Words came to her. “Then you know your father is a good man who made a mistake. He wouldn’t want you to hurt me.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “How do you know what he’d want? You ruined his life.” Lucas breathed in and out quickly through his flaring nose. His eyes darted around the room as if he was replaying her words in his mind. “A mistake? The only mistake he made was confessing. He needed to stay strong. Fight the charges.”

  “He’s sorry. He told me as much.”

  “We’re only sorry you testified against him.”

  “With or without my testimony, he couldn’t explain away what happened in the video.”

  “You made everything worse.” He glared at her and for a fraction of a moment, she thought he was going to charge at her. Instinctively, her stomach clenched. She didn’t have her hands free to defend herself.

  “Hurting me won’t solve anything.”

  It was his turn to blink at her, processing her words. “If you hadn’t responded to the call with your dash cam rolling, his life wouldn’t have been ruined. If you hadn’t been a witness against him. If you hadn’t...” His voice bellowed in the confines of his father’s house.

  Becky opened her mouth to protest, but the rage flaring in his nostrils gave her pause.

  “His life is ruined because of you.”

  * * *

  Harrison jumped out of the patrol car the second it stopped in front of the address on Lucas Handler’s driver’s license. Holding his injured arm close to his side, he ran to the front door of a trailer with rust running down its white sides. The door swung open as if someone had been waiting for them.

  “I’m looking for Lucas Handler.”

  The woman’s eyes grew dark. “What’s he done now?”

  “Is he your son?” Harrison asked, trying to tamp down his frustration. The woman looked past him to the sheriff standing outside his patrol car. They had already called in Becky as missing. Possibly kidnapped. Other patrols were out looking for her. Harrison wouldn’t rest easy until she was found.

  “Who’s asking?” The woman’s gaze dropped to his arm in a sling. He had somehow managed to throw on his bloodied and torn shirt.

  “I’m Deputy James.” He touched his injured arm. “I had a little accident and I need to find your son.”

  She sighed heavily as if resigned to answering. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Has Lucas ever mentioned a Deputy Rebecca Spoth to you?”

  The woman’s thin eyebrows rose under her long bangs. “Is that what this is about? That Amish woman who thinks she can be a cop?” She crossed her arms tightly across her thin frame. A smug expression slanted her mouth. “She doesn’t know her place.”

  Harrison clenched his jaw, knowing if he responded how he wanted to respond she’d shut down. And right now he needed to find Lucas.

  And Becky.

  “Do you know where Lucas might be?”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t report in to me. Comes
and goes as he pleases.” She shook her head as if she never had any control over her son.

  “How about Lucas’s father? Could we talk to him?”

  “His father’s not in the picture. Never has been.” The woman stared at him defiantly. She hiked her chin at the sheriff. “Why don’t you ask the sheriff over there. He knows where Ned is.”

  “Ned?” Harrison’s pulse roared in his ears. “Ned Reich?”

  The woman gave him a self-satisfied smile. “Ned doesn’t have anything to do with me or Lucas. I couldn’t care less, but Lucas would do anything for his father. Not that his father would have anything to do with him. Rarely has. Stopped coming around as soon as he knew I was pregnant. The guy has a problem. Cheated with me on his first wife when his oldest son—Colin, he’s also one of yours—was just a young boy. Swore he couldn’t leave his wife until he found the next one. I heard he has himself another wife and boy. Apparently, we weren’t good enough.”

  Harrison tried to be patient as the woman unraveled her unfortunate life story. “Has Lucas been in contact with Ned recently?”

  “I don’t know how Lucas spends his time. I’m not sure how to be clearer on that.”

  Harrison opened his wallet and pulled out his business card. He offered it to the woman, who took it reluctantly. “Call me if you see Lucas. It’s important.”

  Harrison spun around and jogged over to the sheriff. “Did you know Lucas Handler is Ned Reich’s son?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “Can’t say I was privy to that information.”

  “But your nephew is friends with him?”

  The sheriff waved his hand in dismissal. “Kids just hang out. Doesn’t mean they’re best friends.”

  “Call Ned. Find out if he’s with Lucas. Don’t tell him what’s going on.” The sheriff did what Harrison asked even though the expression on his face suggested he wanted to do anything but.

  Harrison still couldn’t shake the feeling that the sheriff was hiding something.

  He paced next to the patrol car while the sheriff made the phone call. A teenager around fifteen on a brown bike with motocross stickers plastered on the frame skidded to a stop on the gravel. “Are you here to arrest Lucas?”