Amish Country Ambush (Amish Country Justice Book 4)

by Dana R. Lynn

  Hidden in Plain Sight

  An Amish Country Justice story

  After police dispatcher Elise St. Clair’s home is invaded by her murderous brother-in-law, her nephew is hidden in Amish Country by her cleaning lady. Now relying on police officer Ryan Parker is Elise’s only hope of reuniting with the child...and evading the killer. And Elise and Ryan quickly discover their temporary partnership has long-term potential—if they can stay alive.

  “There’s something in the trees. I’m going to investigate.” Drawing his service weapon, Ryan flipped on his body camera.

  “No!” Elise caught his hand. “What if you get hurt? Or worse?”

  Warmth spread at the concern in her rich voice. “I have to go, Elise. We need to catch whoever is behind these attacks. You stay in the house. Lock the door behind me.”

  Despite the mutinous set to her mouth, he heard the bolt slide into place once he was outside. He started toward the trees. He had barely gone half the distance when his phone rang. It was Elise.

  “Elise? What’s wrong?”

  “Ryan? Is that you outside?”

  The tremble in her voice caught at him. Then he frowned; she’d watched him go outside.

  “You know I am. I’m almost to the tree line. Are you okay?” The sense of foreboding spiked as he heard her take a harsh breath.

  “I can see a shadow through the blinds... Someone is standing just on the other side of the window.”

  Dana R. Lynn grew up in Illinois. She met a man at a wedding who she told her parents was her future husband. Nineteen months later, they were married. Today they live in rural Pennsylvania with their three children, two dogs, one cat, one rabbit, one horse and six chickens. In addition to writing, she works as an educational interpreter for the deaf and is active in several ministries in her church.

  Books by Dana R. Lynn

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Amish Country Justice

  Plain Target

  Plain Retribution

  Amish Christmas Abduction

  Amish Country Ambush

  Presumed Guilty

  Interrupted Lullaby

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  Amish Country Ambush

  Dana R. Lynn

  The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

  —Psalms 27:1

  To my editor, Elizabeth Mazer. I have been blessed by your incredible wisdom and guidance through the past few years. I appreciate you more than I can say.

  Contents

  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

  EPILOGUE

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM PROTECTED SECRETS BY HEATHER WOODHAVEN

  ONE

  The lights flickered as thunder boomed, rattling the windows. Immediately, heavy sheets of rain pelted the glass. Distracted, Elise St. Clair glanced at the lights running the length of the ceiling as she pressed the button to answer the next call.

  Her customary greeting of “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” was swallowed up in the intensity of the noise that blasted back at her.

  The woman on the other end of the phone was shouting, the sound deafeningly loud. And worse, she couldn’t understand a word the woman was saying. She was yelling in Pennsylvania Dutch, the language spoken by the Amish community. Elise didn’t quite recognize the voice, although there was something familiar about it. She glanced down at the screen nearest her and felt her world tilt.

  She might not have recognized the voice on the other end of the phone, but she knew the address that flashed across one of the three computer monitors at her station.

  It belonged to an old, slightly creaky farmhouse on the edge of town. The paint was peeling in places, and there were some shingles missing. It was hidden in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place people would drive by without a second glance.

  It was also her house. The house she had lived in for the past two years with Mikey, her nephew who was now three years old. And the phone number belonged to her babysitter, Diana Mosher, who was definitely not the person on the phone. Where was Diana? Who was calling her?

  Something horrible had happened, and she couldn’t understand a word of it. The urge to throw down her headset and dash out the door was fierce. Her hands were already on the headset, ready to snatch it from her head before she realized that she was the only one who could notify the authorities of the need for help. But who should she call? Police? Ambulance? Fire department? As head dispatcher, it was her job to send the call to the correct department.

  The shouting on the other end eased off as the woman on the line started sobbing. She sounded younger than Elise had first thought. Wait a minute. Her cleaning girl, Leah, was due in today. Elise had hired her because she herself was allergic to dust, and there was dust everywhere in a farmhouse in rural northwestern Pennsylvania. Leah was Amish. She spoke English and was able to communicate with Elise perfectly well—but if she was upset, and she definitely sounded upset, she might default to Pennsylvania Dutch.

  “Leah?” A sob answered her. “Leah...it’s Elise. What happened?”

  “I think she’s dead,” Leah answered through her tears.

  Diana? Fear and grief started to collide. Not again. Please, God. Not again.

  Forcing a calm she didn’t feel, Elise said, “Leah, what happened to Diana? Do you see Mikey? Is my nephew there?” She clamped her lips against the flood of hysteria threatening to break free.

  On the other end, Leah sucked in a harsh breath. In the distance, Elise could make out a crash on the other end of the line. Not thunder—something else. Something more frightening. Then another crash. Something was happening.

  “Leah? What’s going on?”

  Then a whisper. “I think someone’s in the house.”

  The line went dead.

  Elise froze for a second, gagging on the fear that closed her throat. She’d been too complacent. Tricked into a sense of false security. And now the danger she should have been expecting all along had found her again. Yes, it was possible that a complete stranger was breaking into her house, but she doubted it. Every instinct she possessed was shrieking that the attack was deliberate, and she was the intended target.

  The memories she’d been running from swamped her. Her sister, Karalynne, murdered. Elise believed with all her heart that her overly possessive brother-in-law Hudson had killed Karalynne. But he’d disappeared. And she’d taken Mikey and moved away from the memories.

  Could Hudson be responsible for this new attack?

  She shook her head. The police had told her Hudson had died, a horrible violent death. She’d seen the report. Part of her had sighed in relief, choosing to believe she and her ne
phew were safe.

  But now unease returned. As much as she wanted to believe Hudson was dead, there was one fact that had always bothered her. His body had never been found. The police had insisted that the car fire that had killed him had incinerated his remains. What if...

  Enough! She had to get to Mikey. Because someone was after them. Although if it wasn’t Hudson Langor, she didn’t know who would have any reason to attack her home.

  She should have warned Diana about Hudson. And about the brutal violence he was capable of. But without proof, who’d believe her?

  If only she’d stayed home one more day! She’d had a nasty stomach bug that had kept her at home for the past two days, but today she’d felt well enough to come into work. Had she been home...

  Elise couldn’t worry about that. Not now. She had to get to Mikey. He was all that mattered.

  Her coworker Monica Johnson sauntered into the room, a bored expression on her pretty face. She could do the job.

  Elise whipped off her headset and jumped up so fast her wheeled chair was propelled back, slamming into the wall behind her. Monica stared at her, openmouthed. Elise never got emotional at work. When handling frantic emergency calls, she felt that calmness on her end was key. But this wasn’t a normal situation where she had to soothe a stranger into sharing the necessary details. This time, she was the one under attack, and she couldn’t hide how frightened she was.

  “Monica! Send the police to my address. Someone broke in. And send an ambulance, too. My babysitter may have been injured. I’m heading there now.”

  Not Mikey. Please, God. Let Mikey and Leah be okay. Diana’s image floated through her mind. And if it’s possible, please let Diana still be alive.

  Monica nodded, her face pale and shocked as she shooed Elise away. Elise could hear Monica’s loud, abrasive voice as she called the police. Elise grabbed up her purse and flew out the door. Thankfully, it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. She wouldn’t have to deal with traffic or darkness as she drove.

  She hadn’t counted on the rain, though, turning the muggy July day into a wet mess. Elise dashed to her car, her feet slogging through puddles as fat raindrops pounded relentlessly on her bare head. She hadn’t thought to grab her umbrella on her way out the door, and she certainly wasn’t going back for it now—not when every second counted.

  She was soaked and shivering by the time she was seated behind the wheel. She started the engine and shifted into Drive. Clenching the wheel in both hands, she drove furiously, swerving to avoid the larger puddles. Even so, her right wheel hit one and water splashed up on the windshield.

  Pulling onto her road, she spun the wheel and turned sharply into her long gravel driveway. Then she stopped. She couldn’t see her house from here, but she could envision it clearly. The large farmhouse that had appeared so perfect to hide in when she’d first seen it now seemed like the perfect haven for a madman lying in wait to ambush her. If she drove all the way up the driveway, he’d hear the car and know she was coming. She had to walk. Decision made, she pulled the car off the driveway enough to let the emergency vehicles pass. Then she killed the engine. Her fingers fumbled on her seat belt. Finally, the buckle slipped free and she shoved it aside, her free hand scrambling for the door latch.

  Leaving her purse in the car, she grabbed her keys and ran up the driveway. She was a good runner, but her anxiety had her breathing faster than normal. By the time she’d reached the side of her house, she was panting. Sweat, mixed with rainwater, dripped down her neck.

  At the stairs, she paused. If she was going to assume the intruder was still inside, then she needed to consider her entrance carefully. If the attacker was Hudson, the man had a brutal streak that ran deep. While her heart urged her to get inside and find her nephew as quickly as possible, caution was advised, especially if she had any hope of saving Mikey and Leah. Where were the police?

  Carefully, she pulled open the screen door. The heavy wooden front door was unlocked. It swung open with a faint creak. She cringed. Had Hudson heard that? She held her breath and listened. Nothing. The silence terrified her. Ten minutes ago, Leah had been shrieking. Now, aside from the still-pouring rain beating against the roof and windows, there was no sound at all.

  She slipped in through the half-open door and glanced around. From this vantage point, she had a clear view of both the living room and the dining room. No one seemed to be there. She took a step into the open living room and approached the couch, which faced into the room. Something crunched under her foot. Glass. From where?

  She lifted her eyes to look around and sucked in a shocked breath. Every single picture on the wall had been shattered, the familiar images damaged or destroyed. Her heart stuck in her throat. All she had left of her sister was wrapped up in pictures and her son. Now the pictures had been destroyed, and Mikey... Again, she shoved down the urge to run to his room. If she was going to protect him, she needed to be cautious—to carefully assess the situation rather than rush in. She continued her survey of the room.

  Glass covered the hardwood floor. She could see shards sticking out of the oval area rug. A baseball bat was leaning against the wall. Behind the coffee table situated in front of the sofa, an arm was stretched out, the hand tapering into three perfectly manicured fuchsia-tipped nails. The other two had broken off. Diana. Averting her gaze, she reached out for the bat. There was something on it. Blood. She hesitated before her hands touched the bat, knowing it had been used as a weapon against her friend. The police would want it as evidence, so she should leave it alone—but on the other hand, it was a weapon she could use to defend herself. Torn, she left it alone for now.

  Clutching her throat, she fought against the nausea that rolled in her belly and stepped farther into the room. Maybe Leah was hiding with Mikey deeper inside the house.

  Glass crunched behind her.

  “Well, well, well. Little Elise.” She knew that voice!

  Elise whirled, her heart in her throat as, for the first time in two years, she faced the one man she’d feared above all others. The handsome face she remembered was gone. The face before her was damaged, ravaged by fire to the point that it was no longer recognizable. The thick hair she’d seen him smooth back so often was thin, missing in places. Patches of scar tissue replaced hair in several places. The charming smile she remembered was now distorted due to the damaged skin and muscle tissue. It would have been tempting to believe she was facing a total stranger.

  Except for the voice.

  That voice she’d know anywhere. Dark and gravelly, cold and cruel.

  “Hudson!” she gasped. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  He smiled. It was a smile filled with malice. Images of him strangling Karalynne flooded her mind, paralyzing her.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’m sure it was you who convinced my wife to throw me out of the house. Which means you’re to blame for everything.”

  He stepped closer. Dizziness swamped her. She wanted to run. But where was Mikey? Hudson reached out a large hand and grabbed a handful of her short curls. Pain lanced through her skull as he pulled her head back. She cried out. “Not so brave now, are you? You should never have interfered in what didn’t concern you. You turned her against me, I’m sure you did. She never would have tried to leave me if not for you. Her death is all your fault. You know what I’m after. Where is it? And where is my son?”

  It was telling, in her mind, that he asked for his son second. This was a man who was incapable of love. If he wanted Mikey, it wasn’t due to fatherly affection but for some twisted purpose of his own.

  He yanked on her hair again. Even as spots danced in front of her eyes, hope filled her heart. He had no idea where Mikey was. Which meant Leah had managed to hide him.

  A meaty fist slammed into her jaw. Elise slumped to the floor as Hudson threw her back from him. He stepped toward her, rage written all over hi
m. I don’t want to die yet.

  Hudson stopped suddenly as sirens filled the air. Blue-and-red strobe lights splashed across her eggshell-colored walls. The police had arrived. Fury flickered on his face. “I’ll be back. I’ll find it. And Michael. And then you’re going to pay for what you’ve cost me.”

  Running, he headed for the back of the house. She heard the back door crash open.

  She should move. Get up and tell the police...

  Her thoughts were hazy, and she couldn’t keep them together. She attempted to lift her head. It was too heavy. She lay there among the glass, knowing it was digging into her but unable to move.

  Her eyes drifted shut.

  A hand touched her neck.

  Her pulse stuttered. Had he come back? She should fight. She forced her eyes open and met concerned eyes the color of melted chocolate. She blinked slowly. Short, medium brown hair. Strong jaw. And a dark blue LaMar Pond Police Department uniform came into view.

  She was safe. For now. Her eyes drifted shut again.

  * * *

  Sergeant Ryan Parker stared down at the woman lying on the glass-covered area rug. It was hard to tell how badly she was wounded. Her jaw was bruised and starting to swell. She was bleeding from a half-dozen small cuts. He could clearly see shards of broken glass threaded in her golden-brown curls. He pressed two fingers to her pale throat again. Through his latex gloves, he could still feel a steady pulse.

  “Hey, I know her. That’s Elise St. Clair, the head dispatcher. Is she alive?”

  Ryan looked up into the wide eyes and concerned face of his friend and colleague, Gavin Jackson. Ryan had recognized her, too, having seen her in town a few times. If she’d spoken, he knew her voice would have been instantly familiar since he’d spoken with her on the radio plenty of times. But she wasn’t speaking now. Instead, she was lying frighteningly still.

  He’d never actually been close enough to see the spatter of freckles on her nose before. She had never exactly encouraged personal interactions. She’d always been polite but somewhat detached, whether they spoke on the radio during work or in passing when they saw each other in town. In fact, he’d always gotten the distinct impression that she was somewhat antisocial. “Yeah, she’s alive. Her pulse feels strong.”