Debby Giusti

Undercover Amish


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       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       NINETEEN

       TWENTY

       EPILOGUE

       Extract

       Copyright

       ONE

      “Hey, lady, that woman on TV looks just like you.”

      Hannah Miller ignored the wizened old man with the scruffy beard and bloodshot eyes, who undoubtedly was talking to her since she was the only woman in the gas station. Instead of responding, she handed her credit card to the attendant behind the counter. “Twenty dollars on pump four.”

      Averting her gaze from not only the older man but also the cluster of guys ogling the model on the cover of the latest edition of a men’s sports magazine, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin and hoped she looked more confident than she felt. A truck stop off the interstate was the last place Hannah wanted to be in the dead of night, but she needed gas. She also needed to find her sister Miriam and to learn the details of her mother’s death as well as the whereabouts of her youngest sister, Sarah, who had disappeared along with Miriam.

      Refusing to be deterred, the old guy with the beard pointed to the flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. “Check it out, lady.”

      As much as she didn’t want to respond to his comment, she couldn’t stop from glancing at the television. Her heart lurched and a tiny gasp escaped her lips. Her middle sister’s face stared back at her from the thirty-two-inch screen.

      A reporter, holding a microphone, stepped toward Miriam as the news video continued to play. “Ms. Miller, do you have any comment about the man who murdered your mother?”

      “No comment.” Miriam pushed past the reporter and climbed aboard a Gray Line bus.

      “The suspected killer is dead,” the man with the mike continued, “along with a deputy sheriff who was involved in Leah Miller’s death. Now her daughter Miriam is leaving Willkommen. A spokesperson for the mayor’s office said the tragedy is an isolated incident. The crime rate in the town and surrounding Amish community is low, and tourists shouldn’t be discouraged from visiting the area.”

      The video ended and the late-night news anchor returned to the screen. “That footage, shot six weeks ago, is the last taken of Miriam Miller, although there is speculation she returned to Willkommen and is hiding out in the North Georgia mountains. The police now suspect the carjacking that claimed Leah Miller’s life could be tied to the disappearance eight months earlier of Rosie Glick, an Amish girl believed at the time to have run off with her Englisch boyfriend.”

      Hannah’s heart pounded and a roar filled her ears. Seeing the news feed made the information she’d learned about her family only hours earlier even more real. She desperately needed space to recover her composure, but the insistent bearded man sidled closer.

      “’Spect your last name must be Miller.” He raised his voice. “Except for your blue eyes, you look so much alike that you’ve got to be kin to that woman on the news whose mother was killed. Gunned down in a carjacking was the story I heard.”

      Hannah pursed her lips and hoped her icy glare would convince the attendant who still held her credit card not to divulge her name. Evidently the kid behind the counter was smart enough to pick up on her cues. He returned her card without comment.

      She glanced at the group of men near the magazine rack who had stopped perusing the cover model to stare at her. Feeling totally exposed, she returned the credit card to her wallet, all the while her neck tingled and heat seared her cheeks.

      One of the men, dressed in a blue flannel shirt and navy hoodie, shrugged out of the group and hurried outside. If only the other men would leave, as well. Not that they were doing anything wrong, but the last thing Hannah wanted was to call attention to herself.

      She tucked her wallet into her purse, grabbed the sales receipt and hurried into the ladies’ room, needing a private place to come to terms with what had happened. Her head throbbed and she fought to control the tears that burned her eyes. Her mother was dead, Miriam was gone and her younger sister Sarah had disappeared. When Hannah had left home three years ago, Sarah had just turned eighteen.

      Deriding herself for her insensitivity to her family’s need, Hannah hung her head in shame. Why hadn’t she tried to contact them in all that time? In spite of the angry words exchanged the night she’d left and her fear that law enforcement had been called in, Hannah should have been the better person and made an attempt to reconnect. For so long she’d blamed her mother and Miriam. Now they were gone from her life and her heart ached too much to blame anyone but herself.

      Hannah had been selfish and thinking of her own needs, not the good of the family. Although the three girls raised by a flighty, self-absorbed mother hardly deserved the name “family.” The disjointed reality of their dysfunctional life had, at times, seemed anything but close-knit or loving.

      Plus, the old man was wrong. Any resemblance she had to Miriam was slight. After what she had learned the night she’d left home, it was no wonder she had always felt like an outsider. The accusation and the memory of the secret her mother had revealed remained an open wound.

      The last thing she’d expected to find today on her cell phone was Miriam’s garbled voice mail. Her sister’s heartbreaking message—at least what Hannah could decipher—had been almost too much to bear.

      According to the television footage, Miriam hadn’t been seen in Willkommen since she’d boarded the bus six weeks ago. The possibility of finding either sister seemed remote, yet Hannah wouldn’t give up her search until she found Miriam and Sarah.

      Needing to get back on the road, Hannah splashed cold water on her face, wiped it dry with a paper towel and hurried to her car, grateful that the older, bearded guy, now chatting with the men by the magazine rack, failed to notice her departure.

      Nearing her car, Hannah sensed she wasn’t alone and turned to see the man in blue flannel. He glanced at her through narrowed eyes before he opened the door to his black Tahoe and settled into the driver’s seat. Something about the guy chilled