so hard to forget. They’d been so in love. Or at least he’d thought so. Then she’d married Peter. He’d felt like such a fool.
His thoughts rambled as he maneuvered his convertible through the hills and around the horse and buggies. He kept his head down and lifted a quick word. Guard me from their judgment, Lord. If there is a job for me here, then make me strong so I can do it. If not, let me return to what—
Eli looked up just in time to slam on the brakes as another horse and carriage crossed right into his lane while attempting to avoid a sleek black sedan speeding around the buggy on the right shoulder.
Crazy driver. Couldn’t slow down one second for a buggy. Good grief. Someone could have been seriously injured. He shook his head, remembering all too well the days of being in the buggy himself and having those sorts of incidents. They happened more frequently than they should. He patted the dash of his Mustang. He felt much safer in his convertible.
Checking his rearview mirror, he searched for the car, but the black sedan had already fled the area. Thankfully, the horse and buggy were recovered and back on their side of the road. Eli drove on.
Minutes later, he turned onto the dirt path leading to the Nolts’ farmhouse. A chill of unease rippled down his spine with the strangest feeling that he was being watched. He parked in the gravel turnaround in front of the quaint two-story stone cottage and stepped out of his car. The old house hadn’t changed. The sight of it flooded his head with hundreds of memories—gatherings, Sunday church, buggy rides.
A woman stepping onto the long white porch restored his mind to the present. She wore a blue frock with a black apron. Her raven hair had been tucked tightly away under a white prayer Kapp. She dried her hands on the skirt of her apron, then pressed away the creases, all the while studying him from the safety of the porch. At length, a soft, pleasant smile fell over her lips.
Hannah.
Eli froze to his spot on the front walkway. She was stunning as ever—her sweet face, her deep emerald eyes. As soft and beautiful as the last time he’d seen her so many years ago. She smiled wide, although from the redness around her eyes he guessed she’d been crying recently, no doubt over the loss of her daughter. Still, as she moved toward him, she was easy and natural. Seeing her felt like a cool breeze against his skin on the hottest of summer days. A lump the size of a stone grew into his throat, and his heart pumped four times its normal speed.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
“Can it be? Elijah Miller?” Her alto voice sounded smooth and rich. “After all these years?”
“It is.” He struggled to speak. Seeing her again seemed to have sucked the air from his lungs and brought back so many memories his head was full. “How are you, Hannah?”
She tilted her head to the side, grinning wider. “How long have you been home? I have not heard a word about your visit. How is that so?”
“I just arrived, actually.” He forced out each word carefully. Painfully. He shifted his weight and pressed his lips together. Her friendliness surprised him a little but not as much as his own reaction. Where was all the pain and anger he should be feeling?
“And you have not been first to see your Mamm? How is that?”
A buzzing sound zipped through the air between them. Eli turned his head to the woods. Was that gunfire?
Suddenly all of his wavering uncertainty vanished. Years of training and experience had hardwired his response to that sound—even when it came at the most unlikely of moments. Without a second thought, he dove forward, covering Hannah with his body and forcing her to the ground. Eleven years working the city streets had taught him to react first and think later. A skill that had saved his life on more than one occasion.
A second buzzing flew over them. A nanosecond later, the front window of the house shattered.
Oh yeah. That was gunfire.
TWO
“What’s going on?” Hannah tried to sit up and take stock of the situation. Elijah pushed her back to the ground.
“Stay down. Someone’s shooting at us.” He rolled onto his back and pulled his Glock from its shoulder holster, aiming it toward the woods.
Hannah stared wide-eyed at his gun. She scooted back a few feet, then started to stand.
“What are you doing?” He jumped up after her, shielding her body again but continuing to face the woods with his firearm cocked and ready. “You’re making yourself a target. Those are real bullets, Hannah.”
“Jah, all the more reason to move inside, no?” She hurried toward the porch.
Okay. Maybe she had a point.
Eli covered her as they made their way to the front door. He kept his eyes on the edge of the nearby forest. “Is anyone else home?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll go first.” He slipped in front of her and into the house, gun raised. Glass from the broken window had sprayed out across the hardwood floor. Otherwise, the large open space looked untouched. He pulled her in behind him and placed her in a corner away from the open door and window.
“Stay here while I check upstairs and in the Dawdi Haus.”
Hannah nodded. Eli ran up the stairs. He checked the bedrooms and single bath of the main cottage. He opened the connecting door leading to the Dawdi or grandparent addition and hurried through the small, attached living space. The entire place was empty.
“Clear.” He descended to the living room. Hannah was still crouched in the corner. He put away his gun and knelt in front of her. “I’m going to search the woods. Don’t move until I get back.”
“You’re going back out there?” Her eyes widened.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to catch one of her nervous glances, but her eyes would not rest. She shook all over. And he didn’t blame her. Someone had just blown out her front window. He hated to leave her, but he had to check the woods. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll keep an eye on the house the whole time.”
She nodded, her body still trembling and her eyes avoiding his. But he could see the tears in them. As her head sank lower, Elijah’s heart dropped. He hated the fear she was feeling on top of the pain she’d already been through. This wasn’t the time for condolences, but the words burst out anyway.
“I’m sorry about your daughter. I’m sorry about Jessica.”
He quietly slid through the front door and took off across the front lawn, finding cover behind an unfinished wooden shed, his car, then an old stone well. His mind spun hard and fast with muddled questions and strange emotions…and Hannah. And he didn’t like any of it one bit.
At the forest edge, Eli did his best to estimate the position of the shooter and he scanned for any evidence—a footprint, a thread of material, bullet casings. Anything besides a plethora of flora and fauna. But there was nothing, not even a squirrel skittering about. So when a twig snapped behind him, he immediately turned and raised his gun.
He lowered it just as quickly. A small child stood there—an Amish child, dressed in a blue shirt, black trousers with suspenders and a straw hat.
“Sorry.” Eli clicked on the safety of his gun and slid the piece back into its holster. “Don’t be afraid. I thought you were someone else.”
The boy frowned and pointed through the woods. “He went that way.”
“Who went that way?”
“You look for man with, uh, der Pistole?” The boy looked at the Glock.
“You saw the man with the gun?”
The boy nodded and pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a large black hat, the kind the Amish men wore.
“The