Kit Wilkinson - Lancaster County Target

A KILLER IN AMISH COUNTRY

Down a deserted hospital corridor, nurse Abby Miller witnesses a patient’s shocking murder. When the masked killer spots her, she’s overpowered—and left for dead. Handsome doctor Blake Jamison vows to keep her safe while investigating the mysterious patient’s death. But when he and Abby uncover a connection between the murder and the long-held secret of his adoption and possible Amish birth, the killer begins targeting them both. Amish-born Abby slowly learns to trust Blake with her life. But it may be too late to protect her heart from the high-society doctor who is sure to leave her behind.

“Is something wrong?” Blake asked.

He parked in Abby’s semicircle driveway, leaving his headlights to shine over the front porch.

“I don’t think so.” She forced a smile and searched in her bag for the house key. But a feeling of dread passed through her. Something was wrong.

Likely it was nothing more than nerves—hardly surprising after the day she’d had. “I guess the sensors on my porch lights are broken. Those lights usually come on when it gets dark.”

“Let me come up to the door with you, just to be safe. You weren’t too steady on your feet earlier, and shouldn’t be stumbling around in the dark.” He turned off the engine, but left his headlights on to shine over the front porch.

Blake stood back as she went in and reached for the lights. Nothing happened as she flicked the light switch.

“Looks like the power is out.”

Blake’s hand came down on her shoulder, giving her a chill.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “There’s someone else in the house.”

KIT WILKINSON

is a former Ph.D. student who once wrote discussions on the medieval feminine voice. She now prefers weaving stories of romance and redemption. Her first inspirational manuscript won the prestigious RWA Golden Heart. You can visit Kit at www.kitwilkinson.comor write to her at write@kitwilkinson.com.

Lancaster County Target

Kit Wilkinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.

—Ecclesiastes 9:10

To my lovely student, Emily Dingman, what a pleasure to watch you mature into such a fine young lady over the past three years.

Tu rends le monde si mieux—You make the world better. Always remember you make a difference.

Contents

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

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXTRACT

ONE

What is that doctor doing in here?

Abigail Miller’s heart beat fast and hard as she stood, frozen, in the dark hospital corridor, watching a surgeon empty a large syringe of clear liquid into a patient’s IV drip.

Why? What is he doing here? Alone with a patient in a closed-off part of the hospital?

Abby shook her head. It didn’t make any sense.

Dressed in full scrubs with no ID badge that she could spot, the doctor’s figure towered over the male patient who lay lifeless on the gurney. As large as the surgeon looked in the narrow corridor, the male patient looked small even on the hospital gurney—his olive skin pale, his head round and bald. He seemed so still.

Abby sucked in a quick breath and decided to backtrack without disturbing the doctor and patient. She wasn’t comfortable confronting the tall, imposing surgeon herself, but something about the scene just didn’t seem right. Perhaps she could find a security guard... She stepped backward and her shoe squeaked as it turned on the tiled floor.

“How did you get in here? This part of the hospital is closed.” The doctor spun toward her, his voice booming through the empty hallway. His cold, gray eyes flashed in the dim emergency lighting and chilled her like an arctic blast. The rest of him was hidden beneath a complete workup of surgical scrubs, including face mask, gloves and hat.

“I was just cutting through here. I do it almost every day.” Abby forced her lips to move while her eyes stayed fixed on the surgeon. “I was on my way to Maternity. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“I don’t understand how you got into this area.” He advanced toward her, forcing her to take several steps back. “The entrances are supposed to be locked. This patient is highly contagious. This area is under restrictions. You shouldn’t be here.”

Contagious? Abby hadn’t heard about any restrictions. Surely there would have been signs, announcements. The sense of something wrong grew stronger. Pulse rising, she skirted to the side of the large man and looked down at the patient’s chart attached to the end of the gurney.

N. K. Hancock—TRANSFER.

In the dim lighting, that was all she could read, but she could see that the papers were solid white. If the patient were contagious, the chart would be marked with a prominent red stripe. Abby swallowed hard. Her heart drummed against her ribs. This doctor was lying—if he even was a doctor. She needed to find a security guard, stat. But first, she had to get away. She composed herself just enough to keep from sinking under the doctor’s menacing glare and looming figure.

“I’m sorry, Dr....” Abby waited but he did not supply a name. With each syllable, she inched herself away from the man and his patient. “I didn’t know we couldn’t pass through. Again, I’m sorry to disturb you, Doctor. I’ll just be on my way.” She turned and headed for the stairwell.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He was behind her in seconds. Over her. Around her like a giant spider. He grabbed the top of her arm and squeezed her flesh like a vise. His cold eyes flickered in the dim lighting.

She trembled and fought against him, but her struggles were in vain as the grip of his stubby, sausagelike fingertips dug deeper and deeper into her skin. He pulled her tight against his stout belly. She had no hope of breaking free.

Was this her just deserts after finally deciding she would not join the Amish church, defying the wishes of her father?

She’d gone to school to become a nurse, but she hadn’t made her final decision about living the Plain life until recently. It had been time to put away one or the other and stop living on the fence. So last week, she’d laid aside her prayer Kapp and her frocks for good. She’d devote her life to nursing, delivering babies and helping others to stay healthy. But the choice had not come without a lot of pain, especially to her father, the Ordnung bishop.

Her father’s words still rang through her head—a verse from the Psalms. “If you stand in the counsel of the wicked, you will become wicked.”

Had she made the worst decision of her life? Right now, it certainly seemed that way. Tears filled Abby’s eyes. Crazy, desperate thoughts swirled around in her mind. She continued to try to break free of the doctor’s grip, but she could not come close to matching his strength. Her breathing came in short gasps. She would have yelled but there was no one to hear her.