Plain Retribution. Dana Lynn R.

home sprung up, only to die when she unlocked the door and entered the empty apartment. Holly’s coat was not hanging on the hook, nor were her shoes on the mat beside the door.

      But...

      She shivered.

      “Something feels off,” she signed to Miles.

      He frowned, but didn’t mock her, or tell her she was imagining things. Instead, he motioned for her to stand against the wall while he drew out his gun. It still seemed odd to be around someone holding a loaded gun, knowing that he was willing to shoot or stand in front of her to protect her. The Amish didn’t believe in violence. While her father and brothers would gladly put themselves at risk for her, she knew they would never consider shooting another person. Even if they or their loved ones were in danger.

      But Miles was clearly prepared to do that.

      She tracked him as he moved down the hall to the back of the apartment. He turned at Holly’s room, sliding along the wall.

      A movement broke her focus away from Miles. The closet door beside her was opening. Slowly, slowly. Like a horror movie. A sense of horrible fascination held her captive. She watched, dread building up inside her like a wave about to crest. When a large figure dressed in black slipped out of the closet, she broke from her haze. The figure halted, then charged at her, grabbing her in a viselike grip. His muscular hands squeezed her upper arms until they hurt and attempted to drag her toward the door.

      A scream ripped from her throat.

      Miles tore around the corner, his gun ready. The man jumped in surprise. He literally threw Rebecca at the policeman. Off balance, she sailed across the room, falling as she did so. Strong arms caught her, then let her go. Miles jumped past her and took off out of the apartment, following after her would-be kidnapper. She ran to the door and followed him down the stairs.

      In the parking lot, Miles raised his gun again.

      He didn’t fire.

      The assailant barreled into frail Mrs. Wilson and knocked her to the ground. Agony spread across her wrinkled face. She wouldn’t be getting up on her own power. Mr. Wilson sank to his knees beside his injured wife, his face pale.

      The attacker never looked back. He hopped into a van that was idling. Into the passenger seat. An instant later, the van took off.

      He had an accomplice. There were at least two people who they needed to track down before she could be safe again. Unfortunately, from where she was standing all she could tell about the other person was that he or she was wearing a baseball cap. The grimness that settled over Miles’s countenance as his gaze met her eyes made her take a step back.

      Miles shoved his gun back into his holster and jogged over to the couple, his hand already at the radio attached to his shoulder. Rebecca didn’t need him to sign to know he was calling the 911 dispatcher.

      The old man looked up angrily as Miles kneeled down beside the couple. He pointed a harsh, trembling finger in her direction. Uh-oh. She didn’t know why, but the man clearly held her responsible for whatever had happened to his wife.

      Miles shook his head firmly. He said something to the man. Both his expression and his body language indicated that he had spoken firmly, but not angrily. Like a man in command. The old man scowled, but backed down. Although his glance cut to where Rebecca stood. Even from a distance, she could sense the animosity simmering beneath his skin.

      Before long, the ambulance crew and additional police arrived. The woman was put on a stretcher, then both she and her husband were off to the hospital. Rebecca recognized Lieutenant Dan Willis, brother-in-law to Jess’s husband, when he hopped in his cruiser and followed the ambulance. No doubt to question the couple about the man who had barreled into them while he fled the scene. The man in the ski mask.