Undercover Amish (Covert Police Detectives Unit Series Book 1)

by Ashley Emma

  Ugh.

  “Well, nice to meet you. I need to go check on Miranda.” She spun on her heel and marched back toward the medical team. The girl tugged on her sleeve and stared at her, even smiling a little.

  “I prayed God would send an angel to rescue me,” she said in a soft voice.

  Olivia couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m no angel, kid.”

  “But God did send you. Thank you for coming to get me,” she replied as the paramedic inspected her ankle.

  “You’re welcome, Miranda.”

  Liv hadn’t prayed in six years, and she didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon.

  She had left God behind the day she had left the Amish.

  *

  “Olivia, come see me in my office.” Captain Branson took a swig of his coffee and nodded his balding head toward his office door at Covert Police Detectives Unit headquarters in Portland, Maine. Bodyguards, police officers, special agents, and detectives all worked together in this building and in the field. Liv loved about this place.

  “In a minute. I’m just—”

  “Now, Liv!” he shouted and disappeared into the office.

  With a sigh, she closed the vacation website on her laptop and put the gorgeous images of the Bahamas out of her mind. She finally got a minute to herself at her desk, and now Branson wanted to talk. She picked herself up and stepped into his office, wondering what she had done wrong. Had she forgotten to label evidence or wipe out the microwave in the break room? Or was it the prank she played on Jeff last week?

  Man, she had gotten him good.

  “Have a seat.”

  It had to have been the prank. Maybe putting a fake snake in his car had been too much.

  “What’s up, Captain?” She plopped into one of his chairs. A feeling of dread began to creep over her. Maybe she actually was in trouble.

  He settled in his chair and pulled it forward, his round belly pressed up against the desk. “I have an undercover assignment for you.”

  At least she wasn’t in trouble.

  “Captain, with all due respect, you know I was planning on going on a vacation soon.”

  “Liv, I need you for this one. No one else will do.” He adjusted his glasses and handed her pictures of a crime scene. “Bill Sullivan was shot and killed in his barn last night in Unity, Maine. He was an Amish man in his fifties. Someone outside the community reported this.”

  Shock ricocheted throughout her system. A crime in Unity? Her heart sank, even if she had never really liked the man much. “I knew this man when I lived there. He was my father-in-law.”

  “I’m sorry,” Branson said.

  “We weren’t exactly chummy, but still…” She stared at the photos in disbelief, dozens of questions spiraling in her head. Liv had never witnessed any violence in her community except for her husband’s abuse and the arsonist who had killed her family. Usually Amish communities were peaceful, but sometimes criminals or rowdy teenagers liked to take advantage of the fact that the Amish didn’t report crimes like vandalism or arson…or murder.

  Was the rest of the community all right? Had anyone else been injured?

  Wait…no!

  “You want me to go there, don’t you?” She was ready to argue her way out of this one. She slammed her palms down on his desk as she stood. “You know I never want to go there ever again.”

  “Liv, calm down. I know it’s against the Amish way to give police any information. But we need to find this killer, and you grew up Amish. If I send any of my other detectives there, they’ll stand right out. Besides, they don’t know anything about the Amish, and they won’t be able to blend in unnoticed. I need you to go there and act like you’re one of them again. The killer won’t even know the crime was reported or that we are onto him. Can’t you just ask to rejoin the church?”

  “It’s really not that simple.” She crossed her arms, looked away, and plopped back down in her chair.

  “Why not? Just tell them you want to come back like old times.”

  “I’m shunned. When people leave, they are shunned. That means no one will speak a word to me unless I repent before the church, beg for forgiveness, and act like I sincerely want to become Amish again.” She shuddered at the thought.

  “Then do it. Whatever it takes. Since the community in Unity won’t accept the help of the police or answer our questions, we think the only way to help these people is for you to go there covertly and investigate without them even knowing it. And the killer will have no idea. No one from their community even reported this crime or planned to. An outsider found out through some gossip and reported it. One of the customers of the community store.”

  “I know they don’t ask the police for help. They believe everything is God’s will, and they leave the vengeance to Him. I’m just not sure they’ll welcome me back as easily as you think they will.”

  “Come on. Aren’t they nice, forgiving people?”

  “They are, but…” She shut her eyes and saw the flames engulfing her home with her parents and siblings dying inside. The arsonist was never found. The elders had told her not to report the crime or look for the man who had murdered her family because their way was to forgive and move on.

  But she had held on to the bitterness. She couldn’t forgive the killer.

  And now she had to go back there? To the place where her family had been killed and her husband had abused her?

  Her heart clenched at the thought of returning to her hometown. She hadn’t been there in six years. And she had not left on good terms. It wouldn’t be as easy as Branson thought it would be. She couldn’t just waltz into the community and ask to be forgiven for leaving, could she?

  And for killing Jake in self-defense? She didn’t think so. All those memories would come rushing back, and it would be too much to deal with. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of returning.

  “I can’t do this, Captain. I’ll do anything else. Send me on a dangerous mission. I don’t care. Just don’t make me do this. Please.” She leaned forward in her chair, put her nice face on, and pleaded with wide-open eyes. “I’d rather run through gunfire than go back there. I’d rather die.”

  Branson shook his head firmly. “Don’t be so dramatic, Liv. If you want your vacation time—if you want your job—you have to do this.”

  “My job?” A feeling of dread and panic settled over her. Her job was everything to her. She had no life outside of work.

  “Look, Liv. Our funds have been reduced, and we have been forced to make cuts. You’re a great detective, but you’re one of the newer ones. Some of our people have been here ten or fifteen years or more. The board would probably pick you as the first to go if we have to lay people off. So if you do this mission and prove yourself worthy, you would make them reconsider.”

  She’d rather rot in jail than go back there. She scowled.

  “Olivia. I need you to do this.”

  She gave him a sideways look.

  “I’ll give you an extra week of vacation time if you go tomorrow and stay until this killer is caught.”

  “Seriously?” Her eyebrows rose as her interest piqued.

  “Don’t you go telling anyone. Consider it a bonus for a job well done. I don’t know much about what your history is with that place. I’m sorry if this is personal, but don’t let it be. Just do your job and you’ll be on the beach sipping a margarita before you know it.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Whatever. Just imagine this—two weeks in the Bahamas, and you don’t have to talk to me the entire time.”

  She nodded slowly, smiling. Sounded like paradise. “How’d you know I want to go there?”

  “I’ve got ears everywhere.” He chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

  Jeff must have talked to him.

  “Okay, fine. If it will help save lives and catch the killer, I’ll do it.”

  “One more thing. Isaac Troyer, a thirty-year-old Amish man, was also attacked last night. Blunt force trauma to th
e head. He had traces of wood in his wounds, which were from whatever he was rendered unconscious with.” He slid another photo toward her.

  Isaac? Her mind screamed at the image of the man she had once loved. She jumped back from the photo as if she had been burned on a hot wood stove.

  “He was then left on one of the lanes in the community near his house until a Sid Hoffman brought him to the local hospital. Since this happened on the same night as the murder, we think he was possibly a witness to the crime. You need to covertly protect him, since the Amish won’t accept police protection, and he could be the perp’s next target. The thing is, Troyer has localized amnesia. He can’t remember what happened the night he was assaulted, but keep asking him questions without being obvious. Once you take him home, he might remember more of what happened.”

  Could this get any worse? She had to take Isaac back to Unity and protect him? Him of all people?

  How was she going to act normal around him, try to get information from him, and protect him during what would be the most awkward encounter of her entire life? She had asked him to run away with her and leave the church, but he had refused and broken her heart. Spontaneous butterflies erupted in her stomach at the thought of him, but she ignored them.

  How would he react to her?

  The last time she had seen him she had kissed him. Right after her husband had died. After that, he had testified on her behalf during her trial. The jury had acquitted her, finding she had acted in self-defense once they saw the evidence—her bruised neck and other injuries, some of which were older and had not properly healed. Because she had left the church after Jake’s death, she had reported what had happened to the police herself, knowing she’d be found innocent.

  After the verdict, she hadn’t had the courage to speak to him. All she had been able to do was give him a small smile, silently thanking him for testifying before a swarm of news reporters surrounded her, all wanting more details about the Amish woman who had killed her husband in self-defense.

  “What’s the matter? You know him too?” Branson asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “You sure? Anything I should know about?”

  “I dated him a long time ago when I was a teenager. That’s all.”

  “Okay, that actually works in our favor. Since he is a potential witness, we need you to go talk to him. If he is still single, rekindle your relationship with him—whatever it was you shared—and drive him back home. The closer you get, the better. Stick to him like glue. If he is a witness, he needs your protection.”

  Like glue? Really? She let her head drop in her hands dramatically.

  “Okay, Liv?” Branson prodded, leaning forward and slightly raising his voice.

  “Okay.” She sighed heavily.

  The Bahamas would have to wait.

  “Hey, I know this is none of my business either, but I know a little bit of what happened there, how you killed your husband in self-defense.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Why? What did he do? If I may ask.”

  Could he get any nosier?

  “After abusing me for three years, he tried to choke me to death, so I stabbed him,” Olivia said emotionlessly. “I had no choice. The community didn’t report it. I did, because I knew I was innocent. And the jury and judge agreed once they saw the evidence and heard the testimonies.” She stood up and walked out of the office, leaving her boss wide-eyed.

  Chapter Three

  After work, Olivia drove home to her small white house on a street lined with similar houses in Augusta. It was in a part of the city that was complete with quaint parks, but she never took advantage of them. She preferred to give her life over to her job, to help the victims of horrific crimes. It was the only thing that made her forget her past.

  She pounded the steering wheel in frustration. The last thing she wanted to do was put on her old Amish clothing, which she had avoided looking at since she had moved here, and go see the man she had loved before she was married.

  A long time ago, Liv had convinced herself that they had never loved each other. That it had just been a summer infatuation. Teenage puppy love. Nothing real.

  But her heart said her head was lying. Especially when she had kissed him the day she had left Unity.

  The heart said all kinds of foolish things. How many times she had questioned criminals and victims alike who had just been “following their hearts”?

  She didn’t trust what her own heart had to say. When she had left the faith, she had vowed to make decisions based on logic, not emotions.

  Isaac had probably forgotten all about her years ago and had most likely married some sensible woman by now. He probably even had a few kids.

  Her stomach churned at the thought.

  Get it together, Liv. She pulled into her narrow driveway. Isaac’s personal life was none of her business. She had to get dressed, head over to the hospital, and somehow convince Isaac and the entire community that she wanted to be Amish again.

  She laughed aloud at the thought. She would rather die than rejoin their church. But this would all be for her cover. It wasn’t real.

  Forgiveness was very important to the Amish, but would Aunt Mary, Uncle Gideon, and Maria be able to forgive her once they found out the truth? She’d be shunned again after this was over anyway, but she still hoped they would understand she was just doing her job.

  There would be no turning back. But if that was the price she had to pay to keep the community safe and stop the killer, so be it.

  She shut off her car and gathered her purse, cell phone, and keys. Before opening the door and stepping outside, she looked around for anyone nearby that could be a potential threat. A hooded man, a shadow… She had recently investigated a woman who had been murdered while getting out of her car. She briefly touched the edge of her M&P Shield in her holster, just to reassure herself the gun was still there, even though she knew it was. It made her feel safer.

  Some would call her paranoid. She was just cautious.

  Sometimes she swore someone was watching her, and sometimes thought she saw a shadow moving outside or in her house. But it always ended up being nothing. No one was ever there.

  Maybe she really was just paranoid.

  She hurried up the short walkway, then let herself in and locked the door. Dropping her things onto a black wooden table near the door, she looked around her neat, modern house. Black wooden furniture, beige walls, splashes of red in the kitchen and blue in the living room. Her mother would never have approved of all the luxuries, appliances, and color. Though her mother had been very old-fashioned, Liv had loved her dearly, and she smiled at the thought of her.

  Liv filled up a glass of cold water and drank it as she envisioned the dress packed away in a box high up in her closet. She dreaded taking it down and putting it on.

  But she had to do it. Then, when this whole thing was over, she could keep her job and go to the Bahamas.

  And she would forget about Unity. And Isaac. Again. All while sitting on the sandy shores of paradise.

  Alone. As always.

  Good plan. She double-checked that the deadbolt on the door was locked, then walked to her bedroom.

  She wanted to procrastinate. Well, she was hungry. She decided to eat dinner, then get the clothes. Satisfied with her decision, she went to the kitchen and heated up a microwavable meal of chicken alfredo from the freezer.

  As she ate, she thought about what she would say to Isaac. Since his amnesia was only related to the night he was attacked, he would remember her. Would he believe her? Would he laugh at her?

  Oh, gosh. What if he was still single?

  She felt bad enough for abandoning him for the jerk she had married. Knowing that there was still a possibility of them getting back together…

  A small flame of hope sparked within her, then she shook her head. Who was she kidding?

  She was an Englisher,
an outsider who was not Amish. Isaac would never break the rules and knowingly start a romantic relationship with an outsider, and he would never leave the community. Besides, she never let emotions interfere with her job.

  She was finally beginning to accept that she might be single for the rest of her life.

  She practically threw her fork and cup in the sink, barely cringing at the crashing sound, and trudged over to her closet. She had to get this over with or it would make her crazy.

  She tore open the door and yanked down the box before she changed her mind. After ripping off the lid, she slid the plain fabric between her fingers, fighting back tears. Longing swelled inside her, those feelings she had hidden just like this box of clothes for so many years.

  Oh, how she missed her mother. Her father. Her siblings.

  Life in Unity had been great when they were alive, but once they were gone, the grief of their deaths had consumed her.

  Anger and sorrow welled up within her as the memories of the flames seeped into her mind. The fact that the arsonist had not been caught was one of the biggest reasons why she had become a detective.

  She lifted up the white prayer kapp her mother had helped her stitch. Her mother used to laugh at her when she sewed. Olivia had always been terrible at sewing, cleaning, cooking, and all the things an Amish girl was supposed to excel at. Instead, as a child Olivia had usually been caught racing the boys outside, getting dirty or climbing trees.

  She had never been the ideal Amish girl, but her family had adored her anyway.

  Liv pulled out the dress, a lavender one with a black apron, and put it on.

  Her mother had hand-sewn this before she died, probably only a few months before the fire. Liv ran her fingers over the impeccable stitching and willed her heart not to break all over again. This was what she had worn when she had sneaked out on the night of the fire. It was all she had left of her former life.

  Recently she had been having fewer memories and flashbacks of Jake’s outbursts and rampages. Fewer memories of her family’s love. Even fewer memories of Isaac. Each day she thought of her old life less and less. Sometimes a whole day would pass and she would realize she had not thought of her past once all day.