Copycat Killer

by Laura Scott

  Well. Enough with the pity party already. She’d just have to remember she’d played a role in helping Nate find his way to faith and God. Wasn’t that more important?

  A knock at the door startled her. Murphy scrambled to his feet, going on alert. For a moment a frisson of fear snaked down her spine, but she told herself the danger was over. Besides, she felt certain Murphy would alert her to danger, but he was staring at the door, his tail wagging with anticipation.

  Still, she checked the peephole to see who was out there.

  Nate?

  Her pulse spiked, then beat so erratically she had to take a moment to calm herself before opening the door. “Hi. Have you been released from the hospital already?”

  “Yep.” Murphy rushed over to greet Nate as if the K-9 hadn’t seen him in days instead of a couple of hours. She couldn’t help smiling at how the two of them looked together. After giving Murphy a good rub, Nate rose to his feet. “Told you it was just a flesh wound. I never should have gotten in the stupid ambulance.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay.” She wanted to throw herself into his arms but forced herself to stay back. “I suppose you’re here for Murphy?”

  “Yes, I need to take him home.”

  “I’m sure Murphy missed you.” I missed you.

  “No! I don’t want Murphy to go!” Lucy’s plaintive tone made her wince. The little girl threw her arms around Murphy’s neck, burying her face against his fur. “I want him to stay!”

  “I know, baby, but Murphy and Nate work together as a team. They’re both police officers.” She gently extricated the animal from Lucy’s grip and pulled her up and into her arms.

  Nate put Murphy on his leash. “Well, I guess this is it.”

  She didn’t want to agree with him, but she wouldn’t force him to stay, either. “I guess so. Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.” Nate stared at her for a long moment, as if there was so much more he wanted to say. Or maybe it was just that her heart wanted him to say something more.

  “Bye, Willow, Lucy.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he opened the door.

  “Nate, please don’t go.” The words escaped before she could stop them.

  He stood for a long moment, then glanced at her over his shoulder. The stark longing on his face ripped at her heart. “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t.” She set Lucy on her feet and moved toward him. She couldn’t just let him walk away without even trying to reach him. “I—have something to tell you.”

  “Willow, you don’t have to...”

  “I love you.” She practically flung the words at him. “I love you, Nate Slater! You can go ahead and walk out that door, but it won’t stop me from loving you.”

  This time, his mouth gaped comically, as if she’d said something he didn’t understand. “What? No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.” She took another step toward him. “I understand you don’t feel the same way about me, but I wanted, needed you to know the truth.”

  “But—” He shook his head. “It can’t work, Willow. You don’t know the real me, the person deep inside.”

  His words offered a glimmer of hope. “I do know the person you are deep inside. You’re kind, loyal, brave, smart and so much more.”

  “Angry.” He said the word with a bitterness that made her wince. “You forgot about angry.”

  She threw up her hands in exasperation. “What are you talking about? Everyone gets mad, and sad, and frustrated and annoyed—none of that means you’re a bad person.”

  A flicker of uncertainty passed over his face. “But my father...”

  “Was a mean and abusive man.” She took another step, close enough now that she could place her hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Did you know that most abuse is more about power and control than anger? Sure, sometimes people get mad enough to lash out, but you’ve never done that, have you?”

  A look of anguish filled his eyes. “I want to say no, but I was furious at the deputy mayor when I tackled her to the pavement.”

  Really? That’s what this was about? “Nate, your action saved our lives. Not because you were mad at her, but to get the gun away from her.” Now she found herself growing irritated. “You can’t possibly equate that action to what your father did to you and your mother.”

  “Maybe not, but the flash of anger I felt inside...” He shrugged. “I was afraid there was more of my father in me than I realized.”

  “Nate, you’re not your father. And you’ll never be your father.” She pressed her hand firmly against him, turning him so that he faced her. “And you know why? Because God will never let you be that man. God will guide you, and protect you, and cherish you. As long as you believe in Him, you’ll never fall into the depths your father sank to.”

  He reached up and covered her hand with his, searching her gaze. “You really believe that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Willow.” He slowly but firmly drew her into his arms. “I want more than anything to kiss you.”

  That made her smile. “I’m not stopping you.”

  His warm embrace and possessive kiss filled her with hope and anticipation. But the kiss didn’t last long, as Lucy came over to tug on the hem of her hoodie.

  “Aunt Willow, I wanna hug, too.”

  Nate lifted his head and chuckled. He readily bent down and picked Lucy up, then pulled Willow in close. “Okay, now we’re all hugging together.”

  Tears blurred her vision at how easily he accepted Lucy into their embrace. This was exactly how she imagined her life to be.

  His gaze met hers over Lucy’s head. “I love you, too, Willow. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize the importance of focusing on the good things in my life, like you and Lucy.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.” He kissed her again, then kissed Lucy’s cheek. “I love both of you.”

  “I love you,” Lucy said. “And Murphy, too.”

  That made her laugh. “I guess it’s unanimous.”

  “Yes.” Nate’s gaze lingered on hers. “I promise that I won’t stop searching for the man responsible for stealing the lives of your brother and his wife.”

  “I know.” While a part of her worried about Nate’s safety, she understood that this was part of being in a relationship with a cop.

  And she’d gladly take him as is.

  “Are we a family?”

  Lucy’s innocent question caught her off guard. She glanced at Nate, unsure how to answer. But then Lucy pointed at the dog. “I wanna hug Murphy.” Lucy wiggled in Nate’s arms until he set her on her feet. She ran over to the yellow Lab and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  The two of them were adorable together.

  Nate cleared his throat. “I know you’re just getting used to having Lucy around, but I need to ask you something.”

  Her heart raced. “Ask me what?”

  He stared deep into her eyes. “Willow, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  She blinked, fearing she’d misunderstood. Hearing he loved her was one thing, but she hadn’t expected this. “You...want to get married?”

  “Yes, I want to marry you.” Love shimmered in his gaze, and as he tugged her close, he glanced down at Lucy and Murphy. “I’d like to make you and Lucy a part of my family. Lucy deserves a father, a family. If you’ll have me.”

  “Oh, Nate. That’s exactly what I want, too.” She rested her head on Nate’s shoulder. “You’ll be a great father and husband. I hope I can be just as good of a mother and wife.”

  “I love you, Willow. And we’ll do this together, with God’s blessing.” He kissed her again and Willow knew that she’d cherish this moment, forever.

  * * *

  Look for Raymond Morrow’s sto
ry, Chasing Secrets by Heather Woodhaven, the next book in the True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn series, available in May 2020.

  True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn

  These police officers fight for justice with the help of their brave canine partners.

  Copycat Killer by Laura Scott, April 2020

  Chasing Secrets by Heather Woodhaven, May 2020

  Deadly Connection by Lenora Worth, June 2020

  Explosive Situation by Terri Reed, July 2020

  Tracking a Kidnapper by Valerie Hansen, August 2020

  Scene of the Crime by Sharon Dunn, September 2020

  Cold Case Pursuit by Dana Mentink, October 2020

  Delayed Justice by Shirlee McCoy, November 2020

  True Blue K-9 Unit Christmas: Brooklyn by Laura Scott and Maggie K. Black, December 2020

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Dangerous Amish Inheritance by Debby Giusti.

  Dear Reader,

  It’s such an honor to be included in this amazing group of authors to write these wonderful K-9 stories. This year I’m blessed to kick off the True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn series. I hope you enjoy reading about the new Brooklyn K-9 Unit and the team that is working hard to keep the streets of New York safe.

  I hope you enjoy the upcoming books in the series; they are incredible stories. And of course, you’ll want to find out who killed the Emerys and the McGregors.

  I always enjoy hearing from my readers. You can find me through my website at https://www.laurascottbooks.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LauraScottBooks and on Twitter at https://twitter.com/laurascottbooks. I offer an exclusive and free novella to all newsletter subscribers, so sign up now through my website to get your copy.

  Yours in faith,

  Laura Scott

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Courage. Danger. Faith.

  Find strength and determination in stories of faith and love in the face of danger.

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  Dangerous Amish Inheritance

  by Debby Giusti

  ONE

  Ruthie Eicher awoke with a start. She blinked in the darkness, hearing the patter of March rain on the tin roof, and touched the opposite side of the double bed, where her husband had slept. Two months since the tragic accident and she was not yet used to his absence.

  Finding the far side of the bed empty and the sheets cold, she dropped her feet to the floor, tied the flannel robe around her waist and hurried into the hallway. Sorrow twisted her heart as she peered into her father’s room, unoccupied since the buggy crash that had killed her husband and claimed her datt’s life, as well. Had her mother been alive she would have said it was Gott’s will, although Ruthie placed the blame on her husband’s failure to approach the intersection with caution. According to the sheriff’s report, the Englischer’s car had the right of way, which her husband failed to acknowledge.

  Ruthie hurried to the children’s room. Even without lighting the oil lamp, she knew from the steady draw of their breaths that nine-year-old Simon and six-year-old Andrew were sound asleep.

  Danki, Gott. She lifted up a prayer of thanks for her two wonderful sons, one blond, one brunette, both so different yet so loved. After adjusting the coverings around the boys’ shoulders, she peered from their window and gazed out at the farm that was falling into disrepair.

  Movement near the outbuildings caught her eye. She held her breath and stared for a long moment, unsure of what she had seen.

  Narrowing her gaze, she leaned forward, and her heart raced as a flame licked the air.

  She shook Simon. “The woodpile. On fire. I need help.”

  He rubbed his eyes.

  “Hurry, Simon.”

  Leaving him to crawl from bed, she raced downstairs, almost tripping, her heart pounding as she knew all too well how quickly the fire could spread. She ran through the kitchen, grabbed the back doorknob and groaned as her fingers struggled with the lock.

  “No!” She moaned and coaxed her fumbling hands to work. The lock disengaged. She threw open the door and ran across the porch and down the steps.

  Cold Georgia mountain air swirled around her, along with the acrid smell of smoke. Rain dampened her hair and robe. She raced to the pump, grabbed a nearby bucket and filled it, then scrambled to the woodpile and hurled the water onto the flames. The fire hissed as if taunting her efforts to quell the blaze. Returning to the pump, she filled another bucket, then another.

  A noise sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting Simon. Instead she saw a large, darkly dressed figure. Something struck the side of her head. She gasped with pain, dropped the bucket and stumbled toward the house.

  He grabbed her shoulder and threw her to the ground. She cried, struggled to her knees and started to crawl away. He kicked her side. She groaned and tried to stand. He tangled his fingers through her hair and pulled her to her feet.

  She turned, her arms flailing, and made out only a shadowed form of a man. A lady’s stocking distorted his face. A knit cap covered his hair. She dug her fingernails into his neck.

  He twirled her around and yanked her arm up behind her back. Pain, like white lightning, exploded along her spine. She reared back to ease the pressure.

  The man’s lips touched her ear. “Didn’t you read my notes? You don’t belong here.” His rancid breath soured the air. “Leave before something happens to you and your children.”

  Her heart stuttered.

  He threw her to the wet ground and kicked her again. Air whizzed from her lungs. She gasped, unable to breathe.

  The back door creaked open, and Simon stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “Mamm?”

  “Stay...inside.” Ruthie glanced at the now smoldering logs. She was relieved by the dying fire, and even more grateful that the man had disappeared.

  Andrew pushed past his older brother and grabbed the rope to the dinner bell that hung on the back porch. His face twisted with determination as he tugged on the heavy hemp. The peel of the bell sounded in the night.

  Simon ran to where she was lying and fell to his knees. “Mamm, do not die. Do not die like Datt.”

  She wanted to reassure both boys, but all she could think of was that no one would answer their call for help.

  * * *

  Noah Schlabach stepped from his father’s house and inhaled the smoke that hung heavy in the air. The chilling clang of a dinner bell pierced the silence. At this time of night, it signaled danger and need. The closest neighboring farm on Amish Mountain belonged to Eli Plank. Ten years ago, the crusty old codger had a bad heart and a cranky disposition. Doubting Eli’s condition had improved, Noah climbed behind the wheel of his Ford pickup, flicked on the lights and headed along the dirt road that led to the bridge, which he hoped was still standing. Rain had fallen steadily since he had returned to the area twenty-four hours ago and had swelled the narrow river. There was a safer bridge closer to town, but the detour would delay his response to the bell’s clamant call.

  He’d last crossed the river the night he had begged Eli’s daughter, Ruthie, to run away with him. Leaving her ten years ago had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, next to burying his brother, Seth, and his family. Coming back to sell their father’s house was closure to the past and all its pain. If only he could rid himself of the guilt so he could embrace life again. But then, he didn’t deserve happiness. Nor did he expect to find it.

  The wind howled, bending the pines and pushing against the truck with a powerful force. He gripped the steering wheel as he neared the rickety bridge. The guard railings bowed in the wind. A board broke loose, fell into the water and floated downstream toward the town of Willkommen.

  Had he remained Amish, Noah would have offered a prayer for his own safe passage over the aged structure, but if God hadn’t answered Noah’s prayers for his brother, He wouldn’t answer
his prayer tonight. Better to remain silent than to face God’s rejection again.

  The moon broke through the clouds and reflected off the churning river below. Glancing higher up the mountain, he spied the cascading waterfall. The early spring rains had been merciless, which added to the surge of water flowing down the mountain.

  He eased the truck across the bridge and accelerated on the other side. The Plank farmhouse sat at the upper tip of the valley, not more than fifty yards from the riverbank. Too close to the water, but then Mr. Plank had never made good decisions about the way he managed his farm, or how he parented Ruthie after her mother’s death.

  A small boy with blond hair, not more than five or six, stood on the porch, ringing the dinner bell. Noah braked to a stop and lunged from the truck. A fire smoldered in the woodpile. Smoke trailed upward from what appeared to be a contained burn.

  Turning, his heart sped up.

  An older boy was kneeling over a woman who was lying facedown in the red Georgia clay. Noah recognized the dark hair and frail form.

  Ruthie!

  “Mamm,” the child whimpered as Noah neared. “Help her,” the boy pleaded. “Help my mamm.”

  Noah touched her slender neck, searched for a pulse and let out a relieved breath when he felt a faint but steady beat.

  She moaned and tried to turn over. Her neck and spine seemed uninjured, yet her eyes remained closed. Feeling her arms, he checked for breaks, then did the same to her legs and feet before he gently lifted her into his arms.

  “Let’s take your mamm inside.”

  The older boy hurried to the porch, where his younger brother held on to the bell rope as if his hands were glued in place.

  “It’s okay,” Noah assured the shivering younger child. “Come inside and get warm.”

  Following the boys into the house, he asked, “Where’s your mother’s bedroom?”

  “On the second floor.” The older boy locked the kitchen door behind them, then led the way up the stairs.