Sometimes the past is best left buried
Meredith King longs for escape. Life in Deer Run is stifling, the Amish town too small for a modern woman staying just to care for her ailing mother. When a friend enlists her help in clearing the name of an Amish boy whose decades-old death is still shrouded in mystery, she welcomes the distraction. But when a ghost from her own past reappears, there is suddenly a lot more at stake.
Zach Randal was always a bad boy, and their romance never had a chance. As charming as ever, he returns to town on the heels of a deadly new threat. Is Zach as dangerous as Meredith was always led to believe? Or is the attraction they both feel the only thing that can save them from harm?
Praise for Marta Perry
“Perry’s story hooks you immediately. Her uncanny ability to seamlessly blend the mystery element with contemporary themes makes this one intriguing read.”
—RT Book Reviews on Home by Dark
“Perry skillfully continues her chilling, deceptively charming romantic suspense series with a dark, puzzling mystery that features a sweet romance and a nice sprinkling of Amish culture.”
—Library Journal on Vanish in Plain Sight
“Marta Perry illuminates the differences between the Amish community and the larger society with an obvious care and respect for ways and beliefs…. She weaves these differences into the story with a deft hand, drawing the reader into a suspenseful, continually moving plot.”
—Fresh Fiction on Murder in Plain Sight
“Leah’s Choice, by Marta Perry, is a knowing and careful look into Amish culture and faith. A truly enjoyable reading experience.”
—Angela Hunt, New York Times bestselling author of Let Darkness Come
“Leah’s Choice is a story of grace and servitude as well as a story of difficult choices and heartbreaking realities. It touched my heart. I think the world of Amish fiction has found a new champion.”
—Lenora Worth, author of Code of Honor
“Marta Perry delivers a strong story of tension, fear and trepidation. Season of Secrets (4.5 stars) is an excellent mystery that’s certain to keep you in constant suspense. While love is a powerful entity in this story, danger is never too far behind.”
—RT Book Reviews, Top Pick
Also available from
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Home by Dark
Danger in Plain Sight
Vanish in Plain Sight
Murder in Plain Sight
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Marta Perry
This story is dedicated to my granddaughter,
Greta Nicole. And, as always, to Brian, with much love.
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ll enjoy this second book in my latest Amish suspense series. I certainly enjoyed revisiting my fictional community of Deer Run. If you happen to visit my area of north-central Pennsylvania, you’ll find many small towns that look very much like Deer Run, nestled in the valleys with the wooded ridges rising above them.
The Amish practice of marrying within their religion is very strong, and parents hope their children will find love within the Amish community, since marrying an Englisch person often results in the child leaving the faith. The strong feelings aroused on both sides seldom lead to murder, however, except in suspense fiction!
Please let me know how you felt about my story. I’d be happy to send you a signed bookmark and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. You can email me at [email protected], visit me at www.facebook.com/martaperrybooks or at www.martaperry.com, or write to me at Harlequin HQN, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Blessings,
Marta Perry
Trickles tend to become streams,
and streams become torrents.
—Amish proverb
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
PROLOGUE
A THIN SHAFT of moonlight penetrated the shadows under the trees, turning the surface of the pond to silver. Strange, that the place should look so serene. No one knew; no one even imagined that murder happened here.
A shadow stirred within the densest shadows. Foolish to come here, but on sleepless nights the lure was too great. Stand here for a few moments, that was all that was needed. Remember.
It was safe enough. No one knew, no one watched. The darkness hid everything, just as it had hidden what had been done here twenty years ago.
Accident, they’d all said. Deer Run locals knew how dangerous the dam was where the stream emptied into the pond below. Only a few feet high, but in times of heavy rain the dam could produce a current as strong as any riptide.
The boy had been careless, people had said. An Amish kid, maybe drinking, maybe showing off, trapped by the dangerous water and drowned. The Englisch spoke of putting up a fence; the Amish said it was God’s will. Tragic, but understandable.
The secret lay forgotten for twenty years, until those two stupid women had come together again. They’d been children when Aaron Mast died, but they’d loved him. They talked, they wondered, they asked questions.
Well, for all their questioning, what they’d found was a good enough reason to call Aaron’s death a suicide. Tragic, wasn’t it? The village had buzzed about it again for weeks, but now even the talk slipped away like a leaf on the current.
No one thought of murder. No one would. But if the unthinkable happened... Well, there might have to be another death at Parson’s Dam.
The shadow stirred, stepping toward the water for an instant, and then slid back into the darkness and melted away in the night.
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU ARE THE only one who can find the truth, Meredith. You must do it.”
Meredith King stared in dismay across the small café table at her cousin Sarah. With her hair drawn tightly back under her kapp and her simple Amish dress, Sarah seemed an unlikely person to be urging her cousin to investigate a death that had occurred twenty years ago. But worry had driven lines around Sarah’s normally placid blue eyes, and she reached one hand across the table in pleading.
“I’m not sure what I can do.” That came out sounding much less definite than Meredith had hoped. “Aaron drowned twenty years ago. There’s probably nothing left to learn.”
And a small-town accountant shouldn’t be anyone’s idea of a crusader. Her weekly coffee klatch with her Amish cousin had turned in a direction Meredith had never anticipated.
“But it was your looking into what happened that summer that brought about this talk of Aaron killing himself. Yours and Rachel’s,” Sarah added. “You’ve already found out so much—surely you can discover the rest of it.”
Meredith couldn’t argue that she’d resurrected the talk about Aaron Mast’s death, no matter how she might want to. When her childhood friend, Rachel Weaver Mason, had come back to Deer Run several months earlier
, they’d started reminiscing about the events of that summer when they’d been ten and had shared a childish crush on the Amish teenager.
Aaron had been the hero of the imaginary world they’d created that summer. But the world had come crashing down when Aaron died in the pond below Parson’s Dam. What started as harmless wondering about the events of that summer had also ended in uncovering the probability that Aaron had committed suicide.
“I’m sorry we ever started poking into it,” Meredith said, guilt settling across her shoulders like a heavy blanket. “We certainly didn’t intend to cause grief to his family.”
“Please, Meredith. I can’t go asking questions among the Englisch, but you can.” Sarah gestured to her Amish dress as if in explanation.
True enough. An action that would be unthinkable for an Amish matron was possible for Meredith.
“Besides, you know as much as anybody about that summer, following Aaron around like you did.” Sarah must have sensed her hesitation and pressed on. “I know you were just a girl, but you didn’t forget our Aaron, ain’t so?” The possessive way Sarah spoke suggested that Aaron had meant something special to her.
“Aaron was a friend of yours, then?” She should have realized that Sarah, ten years older than Meredith, would have been about Aaron’s age.
“Friend, ja.” Sarah’s gaze seemed to lose focus, as if she looked into the past. “More than friends, once.” She shook her head, becoming again the mature Amish wife and mother. “But this talk of suicide hurts so many people. The Aaron I knew would not do such a thing.”
“Sometimes we don’t know others as well as we think.” For example, she’d never guessed that there had been any love in Sarah’s life other than her husband, Jonah. “Even if I can think of a way to find out more, you might not be happy with the result.”
“If Aaron really did this thing, I will bear it.” Sarah’s voice was firm. “We all will. But we must know for certain sure.”
Meredith was silent for a moment, trying to find a way to refuse. She didn’t want to bring still more heartache to people who’d already suffered so much.
But Sarah was the closest link she had to her father and the Amish side of her family. For their sake, she couldn’t refuse to do as Sarah asked, could she?
“I’ll try,” she said at last. “I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try.”
“Denke, Meredith.” Tears shone in Sarah’s blue eyes as she clasped Meredith’s hand. “Da Herr sie mit du.”
The Lord be with you. She’d certainly need the help if she were to solve a twenty-year-old mystery.
“Meredith?” Anna Miller called from behind the counter of the combination grocery store/tourist stop/coffee shop that had served the village of Deer Run as long as Meredith could remember. “Your mother has called, saying why are you so late and don’t forget the goat’s milk she wants. I have it ready for you.”
“Thanks, Anna.” She stood, wishing she could stay long enough to wipe the worry from Sarah’s face, but knowing her mother was perfectly capable of calling every five minutes until Meredith showed up. That was why she’d muted the ringer on her phone.
“I’d better go.” She touched Sarah’s shoulder lightly as her cousin stood, gathering her purchases. “Give my love to Jonah and the children.”
Sarah nodded. “I would say the same to your mamm, but I think it would not be wilkom, ja?” She gave a wry smile and turned toward the grocery section of the shop.
Since everyone in the valley knew of Margo King’s antipathy to her late husband’s Amish kin, there was little point in pretending it was otherwise. So Meredith just nodded and went to the counter to pick up the quart of goat’s milk Anna had ready.
“Thanks, Anna.”
“It makes no trouble,” Anna said, although it had to be a bit of a chore to make a separate trip just to pick up the milk, especially when, like Anna, one drove a horse and buggy to do so.
“Well, I appreciate it.” She handed over the money.
“You’re a gut daughter,” Anna said as Meredith turned toward the door. “Ain’t so, Jeannette?” She appealed to the woman who’d just entered the shop.
Jeannette Walker’s smile, as always, seemed to curdle a bit when she turned it on Meredith. “I’m sure she must be.” Since Jeannette’s bed-and-breakfast, the Willows, stood directly across the street from Meredith’s house, she no doubt thought she had ample opportunity to judge.
“It’s nice to see you, Jeannette.” Meredith gave the expected greeting and attempted to reach the door, but Jeannette stood in her path, and she seemed in no hurry to move.
“Don’t rush off yet,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you my news.” Jeannette patted the tightly permed curls that made her look older than the fortysomething she probably was.
Funny, the difference between her and Sarah even though they were probably about the same age. Sarah, with no makeup, plain dress and her hair pulled back from a center part under her white kapp, still looked younger than Jeannette.
“Is something new in the bed-and-breakfast business?” she asked, even though she wasn’t exactly panting to know.
“You might say that.” Jeannette’s gaze sharpened on Meredith’s face. “I have a guest coming in today. An old friend of yours, I think.”
“Really?” It seemed unlikely that one of her friends was coming to stay at the Willows, but she supposed stranger things had happened. “Who is it?”
“Well, you’re just not going to believe it when I tell you.” The faint look of triumph on Jeannette’s face made Meredith vaguely uncomfortable. “I’m sure he was once a special friend of yours.”
Meredith’s fingers tightened around the milk bottle, and somehow she already knew whose name was coming out of Jeannette’s mouth.
“Zachary Randal.” Jeannette proclaimed the name loudly enough that everyone in Miller’s Shop could hear it. “Now, tell me I’m not wrong. You two were an item once upon a time, weren’t you?”
The smile on Meredith’s face was probably frozen, but it had nothing on the icy hand that gripped her heart at the name. Zach Randal, returning to Deer Run after thirteen years? Surely not. He’d made it plain enough when he’d stormed away from her that he would never come back.
“Zach Randal?” Anna joined the conversation, diverting Jeannette’s focus, thank goodness. “Well, that is interesting news. It’ll be nice to see how that boy turned out after all these years.”
Jeannette’s expression suggested she smelled something nasty. “Not very well, I’m sure. If anyone had asked me, I’d have said he’d be in prison by this time.”
Meredith discovered she was still capable of being roused to anger on Zach’s behalf. “If that’s so, why did you rent a room to him?”
Jeannette shrugged, spreading her hands wide. “I run a business, after all. What can I do? But I’m surprised you didn’t suggest he stay at your friend Rachel’s little inn.”
Rachel ran Mason House, a thriving new B and B that was giving the Willows a run for its money. But never mind the barb—Jeannette was fishing for a response. She was probably torn between wanting to be the only person who knew of Zach’s imminent arrival and her desire to find out if Meredith was still in touch with him.
The thought of exposing her feelings in public kept Meredith’s spine straight and her face composed. “There’s no reason for Zach to contact me about his plans.”
“So sad.” Jeannette shook her head as if in sympathy, but her gaze was that of a robin with its eyes on a succulent worm. “When you were once so very close.”
“Just casual friends,” she said, knowing full well that everyone in the store probably saw that for the lie it was. Knowing, too, that she couldn’t keep this front up much longer. “Excuse me. I must get home.”
She brushed past Jeannette and h
urried out the door, trying not to look as if she were running away.
She didn’t run away. She’d never been able to. Running away was what Zach had done. She had just provided the reason.
* * *
ZACH HAD EXPECTED he’d have some time to adjust to being back in Deer Run before his inevitable first sight of Meredith King. He’d been wrong. As he pulled up in front of the Willows, Meredith was letting herself in the gate to her front yard, right across the street.
He could have stayed at a big, anonymous motel out on the interstate, but conducting this business had become a matter of pride to him. If he had to come back to Deer Run, he’d come, and nobody here could intimidate him again.
Including Meredith. He slammed the car door, making her face turn toward him, and started across the road. Sauntering, not hurrying. He’d greet her like any nearly forgotten acquaintance he hadn’t seen in years. He’d show both her and himself that nothing remained of their long-vanished love.
That was easier said than done, given the fact that just the sight of her made him feel as if he’d been rammed full-on by a semi.
He came to a halt a few feet from her. Meredith stood still, just looking at him, her hand arrested with the gate half-open.
“Meredith.” Luckily his voice came out as cool as he’d hoped. Undercover work had honed his acting skills. “It’s been a long time.”
He might have hoped to find that his first love had turned into a frazzled housewife carrying an extra twenty pounds and with a whining toddler in tow. She hadn’t. If Meredith had added any weight since she was seventeen, it had certainly gone to the right places. The lovely girl she’d been had turned into a beautiful woman.
“Thirteen years,” she said. She seemed to realize that she was gripping the gate tightly, and she let it swing closed, creating a barrier between them. “How are you, Zach?”
“Doing fine.” He probably resembled the drug dealer he’d been posing as, with his tight, well-worn jeans, hair over his collar and stubble on his jaw. Fine. Let Deer Run think ill of him. It always had.
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