THREE

      Eli walked onto the porch, frustrated and defeated—not so different than he had all those years ago when Hannah had refused him without so much as an explanation. Being back in Willow Trace was harder than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t counted on all those old emotions resurfacing the second he laid eyes on her. Yet he knew he needed to be there no matter what he’d said to Hannah or how badly he’d like to go back to the city.

      Hannah needed protection. Maybe the Amish had survived centuries with very little police or other government interference, but the governor had called him there. Clearly this situation was even more dangerous than Eli had suspected. Anyway, Elijah didn’t believe in coincidence. He’d prayed for confirmation that his presence was needed there, and God had answered that in a big way. Jessica’s death was no accident—even if Hannah wouldn’t talk, he could tell that she didn’t believe that. Nor was the shooting at her house a mere coincidence.

      The sad truth, though, was that if he couldn’t convince Hannah to talk to him, then there was no chance anyone else would. She had the most to gain by learning the truth, and there she was ordering him away—Hannah whom at one time he’d been so close to and shared all his dreams with. She saw him as an outsider now. It shouldn’t upset him. He shouldn’t take it so personally. He was just there to do a job. Right?

      He watched through the window as back inside the house, Hannah went back to her broom and dustpan, cleaning the broken window up from the floors. What was she hiding? He had a wild impulse to hold her gently until she cried and told him all her secrets, to make her see that he was still the same person he’d always been.

      Focus on the case, Miller. Do your job and get out of Willow Trace. Hannah had never been for him. How could he even think such a thing after the way she’d broken his heart and never looked back? His grip on the phone tightened. He turned his back to Hannah and dialed the private number given to him by Captain O’Dell.

      “McClendon.”

      “Hello, sir. This is Detective Miller in Willow Trace, as per your request. Within five minutes of my arrival, there was a shooting incident—someone firing from the woods toward the Nolts’ home. No one is injured, but I thought—”

      “I’ll be right out.” The line disconnected.

      Not much of a conversation. Eli put the phone away in his pocket. Then again the whole situation was strange—so much secrecy? No media coverage? The governor involved? He hoped to have a nice chat with McClendon when he got there.

      Maybe there was a political connection. But to the Amish? That was a stretch. Who could find a group of people more unconnected to the political world? They didn’t even vote. A young widow and her teenaged daughter were not likely to be involved in anything that would snag the governor’s attention.

      Soft footfalls behind him made him turn. Hannah had joined him on the porch with a tall glass of lemonade. “Drink.”

      “Denki.” He took the glass. They both smiled at his use of Pennsylvania Dutch language. He laughed. “I haven’t said that in years and already twice today.”

      Her cheeks became a lovely color of pink. Her green eyes shone brighter. For a second, Eli felt like a sixteen-year-old boy again—that very same boy who would have leapt ten feet into the air after feeling the tingle of Hannah’s fingers brush against his own as she passed him a glass of lemonade.

      Tender emotions rushed through him. How he’d loved her all those years ago. Every woman since, he’d compared to her beauty and her kindness and her soul. None had been able to match up.

      Get a grip, Miller.

      He stepped back, trying to smile nonchalantly. Good grief. He was there to investigate, not to rekindle an old flame, especially an old flame with the woman who had dumped him. Once in a lifetime was enough for that.

      Eli drank down the crisp, sweet mixture and returned the empty glass to her. Keep your mind on the investigation. “McClendon is on his way.”

      She frowned, clearly displeased with him, and his heart sank all over again. “You have changed, Elijah Miller. I thought you would understand and remember our ways. I thought you would respect them.”

      “I do respect our ways.” He paused, a bit surprised at his choice of words. “But when the outside world comes to you, you have to respect it, too. You don’t have to be in it, but you have to let someone help you protect yourself from this danger. Hannah, remember when I was six and my Dat took me into the city for the first time? I was abducted the second I stepped off the train.”

      “Jah. I remember that story. God brought you home safe to us again.”

      “Yes, but with the help of a police officer. Let’s face it. If that cop hadn’t fired his gun and shot the man holding me, then I would have been the one who’d died that day. Not the criminal. Someone wants to hurt you, Hannah, you and your family. They’ve already succeeded once. Please, let me help keep you safe,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you know instead of cleverly avoiding every one of my questions.”

      She shot him a furtive glance as if she considered his words. Then she moved away from him. “It is not our way. As you must already know, it was decided that Jessica had a terrible accident.”

      “A terrible accident?” He shook his head in disbelief. “If one of those bullets had hit us earlier today, would that have been an accident, too?”

      Hannah kept her eyes low, avoiding his face. “I don’t know why anyone would be shooting at the house. But, in any case, the Nolts do not want the police involved. Thomas said so himself. You know how it is.”

      “I remember, Hannah.” He remembered more than he liked. “And sometimes that is best—to move on. But if you are now in danger, then it’s time to be proactive. You don’t want to give the shooter a second chance.”

      She backed away.

      “Don’t you even want to know what happened to your daughter?” He reached for the crook of her arm. “Forget the Ordnung talk for one second and be straight with me.”

      She yanked her arm away.

      Good. He was getting to her, even if he was pushing her in an uncomfortable way. She had to see that she needed to both accept God’s will here and protect herself. And for that, he would push as hard as needed.

      “You do, don’t you?” he continued. “You do want to know what happened. The report said that you found her. Hannah, is that true? You found her in the barn at milking time? I saw the pictures. Tell me what happened that morning.”

      Hannah kept her eyes to the floor. Her jaw clenched.

      “I