Alison Stone - Plain Pursuit

DANGER IN AMISH COUNTRY

When her brother is killed in a small Amish town, Anna Quinn discovers she’s an unwelcome outsider. But the FBI agent investigating the case is right at home—because Eli Miller was born and raised in Apple Creek’s Plain community. Eli left his Amish faith behind long ago, but his heart is rooted in a local cold case he can’t forget—a mystery with strange connections to Anna’s loss. Desperate to uncover the truth, Anna and Eli are faced with stony silences and secrets...secrets that someone wants to keep buried in the past.

Anna saw a dark shadow flicker between cornstalks.

She spun around and plowed through the stalks. Each of her frantic steps was met with a rustling off to her right. Stalks whacked her face. Please help me, Lord. Sensing she was losing ground, she spun back around to face her potential attacker.

Two strong hands gripped her upper arms. A bloodcurdling scream died on her lips when she glanced up to find Eli’s concerned gaze on her.

“Someone…” Anna swallowed hard. “Someone was in there.”

He pointed to the house. “Go wait up there while I check it out.”

Anna nodded and jogged to the house.

After what seemed like forever, Eli strode toward her. “I didn’t see anything.” He narrowed his gaze. “What exactly did you see?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe I’m as paranoid as my brother.”

“No, your brother was worried about you.” He glanced back toward the fields. “Until I figure out why, I want to keep an eye on you.”

ALISON STONE

left snowy Buffalo, New York, and headed a thousand miles south to earn an industrial engineering degree at Georgia Tech in Hotlanta. Go Yellow Jackets! She loved the South, but true love brought her back north.

After the birth of her second child, Alison left corporate America for full-time motherhood. She credits an advertisement to write children’s books for sparking her interest in writing. She never did complete a children’s book, but she did have success writing articles for local publications before finding her true calling, writing romantic suspense.

Alison lives with her husband of twenty years and their four children in western New York, where the summers are absolutely gorgeous and the winters are perfect for curling up with a good book—or writing one.

Besides writing, Alison keeps busy volunteering at her children’s schools, driving her girls to dance and watching her boys race motocross.

Alison loves to hear from her readers at Alison@AlisonStone.com. For more information please visit her website, www.AlisonStone.com. She’s also chatty on Twitter, @Alison_Stone.

Plain Pursuit

Alison Stone

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Then Peter came to Him and asked,

“Lord, how often should I forgive someone

who sins against me? Seven times?”

“No, not seven times,” Jesus replied,

“but seventy times seven!”

—Matthew 18:21, 22

Thanks to my awesome agent, Jennifer Schober, who stuck with me on this long and winding road

to publication. Your faith in me kept me going.

Thanks to Allison Lyons, my editor,

who championed my work from the beginning.

I’m thrilled we finally get to work together.

Thanks to my fabulous critique partners

and good friends, Amanda Usen and Barb Hughes. You guys always keep me on track, especially

when I get carried away with the suspense and forget that it’s a romance, too. To Roxanne,

I miss your insightful critiques and sharp wit.

Thanks to Professor Karen M. Johnson-Weiner, who generously answered my questions about the Amish. Any errors I’ve made are mine alone.

Thanks to my mom and dad for providing a childhood home filled with lots of love and laughter. Thanks for making financial sacrifices to send

all five of your children to wonderful schools.

It laid the foundation for all my successes in life. Thank you for that gift.

And thanks to my husband, Scott,

and our four children, Scotty, Alex, Kelsey

and Leah. If you want something badly enough and you’re willing to work hard, dreams can come true. Thanks for helping me make my dream come true.

I love you guys, always and forever.

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

ONE

The pungent odor of manure and smoldering wreckage clogged Anna’s throat. As she coughed, she tented her hand over her eyes to shield them from the lowering sun. Stalks and stalks of corn swayed under brisk winds, masking the point of impact where the single-engine plane plummeted into the earth. An unmistakable desire to scream overwhelmed her. She clamped her jaw to quell her emotions. She had to hold it together for now. Swallowing hard, she tried to rid her mouth of the horrible taste floating in the air. Across the country road from her parked vehicle, first responders fastened the straps to secure the crumpled plane to a flatbed truck.

Turning her back, she flattened her palms against the window of her car. She closed her eyes as the world seemed to slow to a crawl. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Her brother was dead. She was alone.

Anna turned around and leaned back against her car. She ran a hand across her damp forehead. It was unusually hot for early October in western New York. The heat rolled off the asphalt, scorching her cheeks. The bold blue numbers 977 stood out on the tail of the plane, remarkably unscathed among the heap of metal. Her brother had sent her a photo of the plane a few weeks ago. He had been so proud of his purchase. She had thought he was crazy. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she realized she had never responded to his email. She had been so wrapped up in her job as a high school counselor at the start of a new school year. Now it was too late to tell him anything.

Her brother had always been there for her when it truly counted. Now only one thing remained for her to do. She closed her eyes. Dear Lord, please welcome my brother into Your arms. A tear tracked down her warm cheek.

“Anna Quinn.” A male voice sounded from behind her. Swiping at her wet cheeks, she glanced over the hood of her car, surprised to see a tall gentleman striding toward her with a confidence normally reserved for those in law enforcement. Her legs felt weak and she took a deep breath to tamp down her initial trepidation. His dark suit fit his broad shoulders impeccably but seemed out of place among the uniformed first responders dotting the countryside. The intensity in his brown eyes unnerved her.

“Yes, I’m Anna.” Dread whispered across the fine hairs on the back of her neck, but she kept her voice even. Her brother was dead. How much worse could it get? Foreboding gnawed at her insides. Past experience told her it could always get worse.

“I’m Special Agent Eli Miller.” She accepted his outstretched hand. Warmth spread through her palm. Self-aware, she reclaimed her hand and crossed her arms tightly against her body. Thrusting her chin upward, she met his gaze. The compassion in his brown eyes almost crumbled her composure. She wondered fleetingly what it would be like to take comfort in his strong arms. To rely on someone besides herself.