Debby Giusti: The Agent's Secret Past

THREAT FROM HER AMISH PAST

Eight years ago, a drifter destroyed Becca Miller’s ties to her Amish community—and murdered her family. Now a special agent with Fort Rickman’s criminal investigation department, Becca knows her past has caught up with her and doesn’t want to relive it. She’s convinced that the killer, who supposedly died years ago, is very much alive and after her. Special agent Colby Voss agrees to help her investigate. Yet the closer they get to the truth, the closer the killer gets to silencing her permanently.

Military Investigations: Serving their country and solving crimes

Colby glanced into the dense forest on each side of the road, his internal warning system on high alert.

The sky was clear, the wind calm, yet there was a fallen tree in the middle of the road. He unbuttoned the safety on his holster.

“Watch yourself, Becca,” he cautioned.

She approached the fallen tree and then turned to face him. “We’ll have to move the log off the road.”

Inadvertently, she stepped into the arc of illumination from her car’s headlights.

Colby’s shoulders tensed. “You’re exposed, Becca. Get away from the light.”

He moved toward her. She stepped aside, but not fast enough.

A shot rang out.

For half a heartbeat, Becca froze.

Colby lunged and shoved her to the pavement. Two more shots pummeled the log. A third pinged against her open driver’s door.

A car engine whined in the distance. Tires screeched along a narrow path that paralleled the newer two-lane.

Becca wiggled under Colby’s weight.

“It was a trap,” he said, his tone sharp. “You could have been killed.”

She almost had been, he realized. On his watch.

DEBBY GIUSTI

is a medical technologist who loves working with test tubes and petri dishes almost as much as she loves to write. Growing up as an army brat, Debby met and married her husband—then a captain in the army—at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful army brats of their own and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of suspense that touch the heart and soul. Contact Debby through her website, www.DebbyGiusti.com, email debby@debbygiusti.com, or write c/o Love Inspired Suspense, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

The Agent’s Secret Past

Debby Giusti

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.”

—Luke 9:23–24

In Memory of Ginger Leary

A dear friend who loved books and always encouraged me to keep writing.

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

Eight years earlier

The moon peered down between dark, billowing clouds and cast the Amish farmhouse in shadows. Rebecca Miller stepped from her car onto the one-lane, dirt road she knew so well and shivered in the frosty night air.

Leaving two years earlier had sealed her fate. She would not be welcomed nor accepted back unless—and until—she asked forgiveness. Something she could never do.

If only her father had believed her. Perhaps then, she would have remained in Harmony, Alabama, and spent the rest of her life wrapped in the familiar embrace of the Amish way.

Instead she had created a new future for herself in the military. Seemingly a drastic shift from the peace-loving community of her childhood, but then too many ignored what Rebecca knew so well. Evil existed even among the Amish.

After driving straight through from Fort Campbell, Kentucky, her legs were stiff and her shoulders tense.

Cautiously she climbed the front steps, her breath clouding the air. She shivered, anticipating her father’s icy stare and quick rejection.

Her sister’s words replayed in her memory. I fear for my life.

Rebecca tapped ever so lightly on the unlatched door. An even more chilling shiver snaked up her spine.

“Katie,” she whispered, pushing the door open.

An acrid stench wafted past her before she saw her father and the dark circle of blood pooling on the wooden floor beneath his chest. The cloying scent of copper clogged her throat and sent a jab of fear deep into her heart.

“Datt?” Without thought, she slipped back to her Amish past.

He lay on the hand-hewn floorboards his bearded face pale and drawn, life ebbing from his glassy eyes. Trying to assess which of the many stab wounds to stanch, Becca dropped to her knees and touched his outstretched hand.

Her father’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Who was it?” she whispered, knowing even before he answered.

“Ja-Jacob,” he stammered, ignoring the ban that forbid him from speaking to his daughter.

A shuffle sounded overhead.

Rebecca’s breath hitched. “He’s here?”

“Yah.”

An unseen sword pierced her soul, the pain so intense she gasped for air. “Katie?”

He pointed to the pantry. “Go,” he demanded, with a flick of his hand.

Recalling the times she and her younger sister had playfully hidden in the adjoining alcove, Becca hastened toward the pantry and inched the door open.

Her heart stopped.

Katie sat slumped against the wall, eyes open, face contorted in terror. Blood spilled from the gaping wound that sliced through her gut.

“No!” she moaned ever so softly.

Rebecca bit her fisted hand, unable to see anything except her sister’s lifeless gaze. Guilt overwhelmed her. If she hadn’t left, Katie would still be alive.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and warned of his approach. Rebecca scurried back to the kitchen. Her father’s head lay slack against his arm. She leaned down to touch his neck, feeling nothing except his soft flesh and prickly beard.

No pulse. No life.

A floorboard groaned on the landing. Close. Too close.

“Goodbye, Datt,” she whispered.

Rebecca opened the door and slipped into the darkness. Once at her car, she glanced back.

Jacob appeared in the farmhouse doorway.

She could see the outline of his face, his beard, his lips snarling as he stared into the night.

“Who’s there?” His eyes found her in the shadows.

He raised his fist in the air. “You cannot run from me, Rebecca. I will find you. When I do, you will die.”

ONE

Eight years later

Run faster!

He was behind her, gaining speed.

The raspy pull of air in and out of his lungs grew louder, signaling his approach.