Читать книгу Hidden in Plain View - Diane Burke - Страница 11

TWO

Sarah stared out the window. It had been one week since the shootings, two days since she’d awakened in this hospital room and they still hadn’t caught the shooter.

She watched the people below in the parking lot.

Was he out there? Waiting? Plotting? Biding his time like a poisonous snake in the grass, coiled and ready to strike?

Would he come back for her? And if he did, this time...

Sarah didn’t have to remember the past to know that she had no desire to die in the present.

She studied the men passing beneath her window. Did any of them look up in her direction? Was the killer watching her even now?

Fear shuddered through her.

How could she protect herself when she didn’t even know what the man who posed a threat looked like? How could she help the police catch him before he could hurt more people if her mind continued to be nothing more than a blank slate?

Her mother-in-law, Rebecca, and the doctor had filled her in on what they knew of the details of that day.

The story they had told her was tragic. But she had no emotional connection to that schoolroom, or to the children who had fled out the back door and summoned help, or, even worse, to the man who had once shared her life and was now dead and buried.

She knew people expected an emotional response from her—tears, at least—but she felt nothing.

Surprise? Yes.

Empathy? Of course.

Pain? Grief?

No. They were the emotions she saw every time she looked at the sadness etched in Rebecca’s face. She had lost a son.

Sarah had lost a stranger.

Earlier Rebecca had told Sarah that she’d been raised Englisch until the age of eight. Try as she might, she couldn’t find any memory of those childhood years.

Following her mother’s death, she’d been adopted by her Amish grandmother, who had also passed on years ago. Then she’d come to live with Jacob and Rebecca, embraced the Amish faith and married their son. Sarah found it more difficult to come to terms with the person she was supposed to be than to try to summon grief she couldn’t feel.

She was a pregnant Amish widow recovering from multiple gunshot wounds and suffering from amnesia. That was her reality. That was the only world to which she could relate.

She couldn’t conjure up the slightest recollection of Peter Lapp. Had he been of average build? Or was he tall? Had he had blond hair like his mother? Or maybe brown?

Rebecca had told her they’d been married five years and were happy together.

Had they been happy together? Were they still as much in love on the day of his death as they’d been the day they married? She hoped so. But can true love be forgotten as easily as a breath of air on a spring day? If they’d been soul mates, shouldn’t she feel something? Have some sense of loss deep in her being, even if she couldn’t remember the features of his face or the color of his hair?

Rebecca had also told her that she’d had two prior miscarriages. Had Sarah told her husband about this pregnancy? Were they happy about this blessing or anxious and fearful that it, too, would fail?

A surge of emotion stole her breath away. It wasn’t grief. It was anger.

She wanted to be able to grieve for her husband. She wanted to be able to miss him, to shed tears for him. Instead, all she felt was guilt for not remembering the man. Not the sound of his voice. Not the feel of his touch. Not even the memory of his face. What kind of wife was she that a man who had shared her life was nothing more to her now than a story on someone else’s lips?

She was no longer a complete human being. She was nothing more than an empty void and had nothing within to draw upon. No feelings for her dead husband. No feelings for an unborn child she hadn’t even known she carried. No memories of what kind of person she had been. She was broken, damaged goods and of no use to anyone.

Please, God, help me. Please let me climb out of this dark and frightening place.

In the stillness of her empty room, the tears finally came.

* * *

Sam stood up from the chair outside Sarah’s door and stretched his legs. Hours had passed since Rebecca had left with Jacob. He hadn’t heard a sound lately, and the silence made him uneasy. Quietly, he opened the door and peeked inside.

He was surprised to see Sarah out of bed and standing at the window. Her floor-length robe seemed to swallow up her petite, frail figure. The swish of the door opening drew her attention.

“Hi.” Sam stepped into the room. “Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

Sarah offered a feeble smile. “The nurses had me up a few times today. I won’t get stronger just lying in bed.”

Sam could see she wasn’t having an easy time of it. Dark circles colored the skin beneath her eyes in a deep purplish hue. The telltale puffiness told him that she’d been crying. Her sky-blue eyes were clouded over with pain and perhaps even a little fear.

“It is kind of you to show concern, Detective King.” Her voice sounded fragile and tired.

“Please, call me Samuel.”

He flinched at the sound of his true Amish name slipping from his lips. Donning Amish clothes had returned him to his roots. But the sound of his given name instead of Sam sealed the deal. He had stepped back in time—and it was the last place he wanted to be.

“Samuel.” The sound of his name in her soft, feminine voice drew his attention back to her. She smiled again, but it was only a polite gesture. Happiness never lit her eyes. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought I’d poke my head in and make sure you’re all right.”

“Thank you, but you needn’t bother. I’m fine.” A shadow crossed her face.

Fine? He didn’t think so. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the puzzled expression on her face until she questioned him.

“Who are you, Samuel?”

She stood with her back to the window and studied him.

Who was he? He’d told her he was a detective. Was her loss of memory getting worse?

Sarah went right to the point. “You dress like an Amish man. Our men are not detectives.” Her eyes squinted as she studied him.

She looked as if she might be holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“I assure you, Sarah, I am a detective.”

“And the Amish clothes? Is it a disguise?”

“Yes—and no. I was raised Amish. I left my home in Ohio and joined the police force about fifteen years ago.”

“Ohio? You are very far from home, aren’t you?” she asked.

Was that empathy he saw in her eyes? She was feeling sorry for him. Didn’t that beat all?

“I wanted to get as far away as I could.” Sam shrugged, and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “Memories aren’t always good.”

She pondered his words before she spoke again. “Don’t the Amish shun you if you leave?”

He found her words interesting. She could pull the definition of shunning from her memory banks but talked about it as if it wasn’t part of her own culture, as if the term was nothing more than something she had read in a dictionary.

“I have no family to shun me.”

The gentlest of smiles teased the corner of her lips. “Everyone has a family at one time or another, Samuel.”

Her words hit a tender spot. She was getting much too personal. He didn’t want to open that door for her. He didn’t want to share that pain. He was acting as her bodyguard, nothing more, and the less emotional connection between them the better.

Attempting to change the subject, he said, “I’m sure you’ve been up and about enough for one day. Why don’t you let me help you get back into bed so you can get some rest.”

She allowed him to hold her elbow and support her as she crossed the room. “It must have been difficult for you to leave your Amish religion behind.”

Her soft blue eyes stared up at him.

Sam smiled. He was fast learning that she was a stubborn woman, not easily distracted when she wanted to know something, and right now it was obvious that she wanted to know about him.

“I left religion behind, not God,” he replied. “I carry God with me every day—in here and in here.” He pointed to his head and his heart. “Memories were the only thing I left behind, painful ones.”

Since her left arm was useless because of the sling and the IV bag and pole still attached to her right hand, Sam put his hands on both sides of her waist to lift her up onto the bed. Although tiny and petite, he couldn’t help but note the slightly thickening waist beneath his touch. The signs of her pregnancy were starting to show, and the protective emotions that surfaced surprised him.

Her saucerlike eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and he fought not to lose himself in their beauty.

“I wish I had some memories,” she whispered.

The minty scent of her breath fanned his face, and the slightly parted pose of her lips tempted him to lower his head and steal a taste of their tantalizing softness.

Instead, he removed her slippers and, after she positioned herself back on the pillows, he covered her with a blanket.

“Memories aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, Sarah. I have memories, but no one to love me. You don’t have memories, but you have people who love you very much.”

She acknowledged his words with a nod and a pensive expression.

Her fragile beauty spoke to him, stirring emotions and feelings better left dormant. Stepping back, he subtly shook his head and reminded himself of his own rules.

Rule number one: never get emotionally involved with anyone in a case.

Rule number two: remember, at all times, that when working undercover none of it is real. You are living a lie.

“So, you didn’t answer me. Why are you dressed like an Amish man, Detective King?”

He searched her face, looking for any signs of fear or weakness. He found instead only interest and curiosity.

“This shooter is highly intelligent. He managed to pull off a massive diamond heist without leaving a trace. No images on surveillance cameras. No witnesses. No mistakes. Until now.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “This time he left behind a pouch full of diamonds. The doctors found the pouch pinned inside the waistband of your skirt when you were brought into the emergency room.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, but otherwise she remained still and waited for him to continue.

“This time he was sloppy. He left behind a witness. You.” His eyes locked with hers. “He believes that you still have the diamonds in your possession. And he doesn’t believe in leaving witnesses behind. There is no question. He will be back.”

Fear crept into her eyes. “But you told me the doctors found the diamonds. I don’t have them anymore, do I?”

“No. But he doesn’t know that.”

“Then I have to go away. I have to hide. I can’t be around anyone who could be hurt because of me.”

His admiration for her rose. She was worried about people she couldn’t remember, and not about the imminent threat to herself.

“The safest thing for you and for everyone else is for you to return to your community. It will be harder for him to reach you and easier for everyone involved to recognize an outsider.”

“Is he a threat to anyone besides me?”

“He is a really bad man, Sarah. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He could snatch a child. Harm one of your neighbors while looking for information. He is evil in human form.” Gently, he tilted her chin up with his index finger and looked into her eyes. “But you and I will work together, and we will not let that happen. I promise.”

Sam couldn’t believe he had just said what he did.

Promise? The two of them working together? Was he crazy talking to her like this? Like they were a team fighting against evil?

Had he lost his mind?

“How can I help? I seem pretty useless to everyone these days.” She smiled but seemed totally unaware of how the gesture lit up her face like a ray of sudden sunshine.

He liked making her smile. He liked easing her pain and stress. He tried to identify this tumble of feelings she stirred within him despite his attempt to stay neutral.

Pity? No. Sarah Lapp was too strong a woman to be pitied.

Admiration. Respect. Yes, that was it. He refused to consider there was anything more.

“I will be moving back to the farm with you,” he said. “I’ll be your bodyguard while the rest of the police force concentrates on finding this guy. With my Amish background, it makes me the perfect choice for the job. I can blend in better than any of the other officers. I can help maintain respect for the Amish way of life.”

“Move in? With me?” Her eyes widened. Her mouth rounded in the shape of a perfect letter O, and a pink flush tinged her cheeks.

“We will both be staying with Rebecca and Jacob. We believe you will be the primary target because the shooter still believes you possess the diamonds. You also saw his face and lived. He can’t afford to let you talk to the authorities. He will try to make sure that doesn’t happen. If we can apprehend him when he makes his move, then everyone else will be safe as well.”

“So I am going to be the bait to hook the fish?”

Now it was his turn for heat to rush into his face. He felt embarrassed and ashamed because she was right. He was using her as bait.

“It’s all right, Samuel. I understand. I will do this thing if it will help keep the others safe. When do we begin?”

“Soon.” He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “You will be in the hospital a little while longer. You still need time to heal. But try not to worry. I will not let anything happen to you while you are in my care.”

“I am not in your care, Samuel.” Her smile widened. “I am in God’s hands.”

“Then that is a good thing, ya? With God on our side, we can’t lose.” Sam grinned, hoping his cavalier attitude would build her confidence and help her relax. “Concentrate on regaining your strength. Let me worry about all the bad guys out there.”

The door pushed open behind them. Captain Rogers and Sam’s partner, Joe Masterson, stood in the doorway. “Detective King, may I see you in the hall for a moment?”

Sam released her hand. “I’ll be back. Remember, no worrying allowed. Everything is going to work for good, just the way the Lord intends.”

* * *

Sarah tried to still the apprehension that skittered over her nerve endings when she found herself alone in the room. The police were going to use her as bait to catch a killer. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could feel the rapid beating of her heart beneath her hand on her chest. Was she strong enough, brave enough?

You can do this. You must do this. These people need you to help them.

These people? Where had that thought come from? These were her people, weren’t they? Her family? She knew she felt a warm affection for both Rebecca and Jacob. They had been wonderfully kind and attentive to her since she’d come out of her coma.

But as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t feel a connection to them. At least not the kind of connection they seemed to expect. They were kind people. Loving people. But were they her people?

She tried again to conjure up a memory, even the slightest wisp of one, of Peter. Rebecca had told her that they’d grown up together and were the best of friends. They were happily married. They were expecting a child.

Sarah placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the slight swell beneath her touch. Their child. And she couldn’t even remember Peter’s face.

A stab of pain pierced her heart. She must be a shallow person to not remember someone she had obviously loved. Love goes soul deep, doesn’t it? Love wouldn’t be forgotten so quickly, would it?

Maybe it hadn’t been love. Maybe it had been friendship or convenience or companionship. Maybe it was an emotion that hadn’t claimed her heart at all. She would never know now.

Her eyes strayed to the hospital room door, and her thoughts turned to Samuel.

She was certain if a person were to fall in love with Samuel, it would be a deep, abiding love. It would be two souls uniting before God. It would last a lifetime and not be forgotten by injury or time.

Her heart fluttered in her chest at just the thought that she might be starting to have feelings for Samuel, before she angrily shooed them away.

Foolish notions. That was one thing she was quickly learning about herself. She was often a victim of foolish notions.