Karen Harper - Fall From Pride

“A strong plot, a pair of well-written characters and a genuinely

spooky atmosphere add up to yet another sterling effort from

Harper. Fast-paced and absorbing, this one will keep readers

turning pages far into the night.”

—RT Book Reviews on Deep Down

“The story is rich…and the tension steadily escalates

to a pulse-pounding climax.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Hiding Place

“Strongly plotted and well written, featuring a host of

interesting characters, Harper’s latest is a winner.”

—RT Book Reviews on Below the Surface

“Harper keeps tension high as the insane villain cleverly evades

efforts to capture him. And Harper really shines in the final act,

providing readers with a satisfying and exciting denouement.”

—Publishers Weekly on Inferno

“Harper spins an engaging, nerve-racking yarn, alternating

her emphasis between several equally interesting plot strands.

More important, her red herrings do the job—there’s just no

guessing who the guilty party might be.”

—RT Book Reviews on Hurricane

“Well-researched and rich in detail…

With its tantalizing buildup and well-developed characters,

this offering is certain to earn Harper high marks.”

—Publishers Weekly on Dark Angel, winner of the 2005 Mary Higgins Clark Award

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For my family and friends who love those relaxing,

lovely trips to Ohio Amish country.

As ever, for Don.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Author’s Note

Saturday, May 22, 2010

The Home Valley, Ohio

“SARAH, YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO JUST DROVE in. Passing by, that’s what he said. It’s Jacob! In a fancy car, too. He’s right outside the barn.”

At her younger brother’s words, Sarah Kauffman’s insides lurched. She had once cared for Jacob, but since he’d been shunned, it was verboten for him to be here. No way she wanted to see her former come-calling friend, but someone had to get him away from Gabe and his buddy group. Her family had invited the young people for a barn dance tonight.

“If the kids won’t tell him to leave, I will,” Sarah said as she circled the long plank table laden with food. “He’s a bad influence, and you youngie liet don’t need that in your running-around days!”

She hurried outside and down the sloped approach to the barn, her eyes scanning the clusters of boys huddled by their courting buggies or the two cars someone had driven in, and beyond all that, with its headlights still glowing golden, Jacob’s red car stood out like a beacon.

No, she thought, the glow was not where headlights should be, but higher, farther off, behind the car and buggies so that they stood out in stark silhouette.

She moved to the side and squinted across the dark distance. The glow was growing, wavering. It was coming not from something on her family’s property but from across the newly planted fields that stretched to those of Bishop Esh.

Ignoring Jacob’s calling her name, she pointed, stiff-armed, at the distant blaze of color, but Jacob must have thought she was gesturing for him to leave.

“Hey, just came to say hi to all my ol’ friends, ’speci’ly you, an’ I’m not leavin’ till we talk,” he slurred, but she hardly heeded him.

What was that strange light? The moon rising low on the horizon? Someone burning trash? No. No! The Esh barn, where she had begun enlarging the quilt square she’d painted there two months before…the Esh barn was on fire!

“Fire!” she screamed. “Fire, over there—the Esh barn! Does anyone have a phone? Call the fire department!”

Sarah lifted her skirts and ran through the scattered boys, past a smooching couple who jumped to their feet. She almost tripped over some beer cans on the grass. Smooching and drinking—now she knew why their guests hadn’t spotted the fire.

She raced past their grossdaadi haus where her younger sister, Martha, was tending to their eighty-year-old grossmamm tonight, past the family garden and into the field.

Laboring through the rich, damp soil, she sank ankle-deep with each lunging step, once falling to her hands and knees, but this was the fastest way to get there, even compared to a buggy or Jacob’s car. Schnell! Schnell, hurry, hurry, she urged herself. Human lives, the horses, the stored hay and straw, the old barn itself…and her bold painting of an Amish quilt square. She jumped up from her knees and clambered on, hearing voices behind her of others coming, too.

Out of breath, a stitch in her side, she ran on, to warn the Eshes—Bishop Joseph and his wife, Mattie, almost her second parents because she and their girl Hannah had been so close…. Were they home tonight? Already gone to bed? Their house looked dark, but the glow of kerosene lanterns didn’t show sometimes. Didn’t they know their livelihood, their future, was on fire? The flames seemed high in the barn, reaching downward as well as up. Maybe the firemen could use her painting ladders to spray water.

It seemed an eternity until she reached their yard, screaming, “Fire! Fire!” She prayed no one would be trapped in the barn, that they could get the work team and buggy horses out if they were in for the night. She knew that barn as well as her own. It was where she, Hannah and Ella had played as children, tended animals, the barn where the bishop had been brave enough after much discussion to let her paint her very first quilt square and then let her enlarge it when he saw how well the others were received.

Exhausted but energized, Sarah stumbled into the Esh backyard, her dress and hands smeared, clods of soil clinging to her shoes. The belching heat slapped her face. What had been a glow in the hayloft was now a red-and-orange monster inside the barn trying to get out, licking at the windows, curling its claws around the eaves. Shouting, she beat her fists on the back door of the dark house, but no one came.

Turning back toward the barn, she saw that Jacob, Gabe and several other boys had followed her across the fields. Using someone’s jacket to avoid burning their hands, they lifted the bar on the barn door and pulled it open. That only fed the flames, which made a big whooshing sound and drove everyone back. The beast’s breath came hotter, orange fires from hell. She could see its fiery fingers reaching for the pattern of the six-foot-square Robbing Peter to Pay Paul quilt square she’d been enlarging from her wooden ladders and scaffolding earlier today. She’d left them leaning against the barn. Maybe they’d been burned up by now.

Her agony was not only to see the barn burn but her quilt square, too. How proud she had been of her work, the beauty of the striking design. Bishop Esh had chosen that repetitive, traditional pattern because he said it would remind folks that Paul and Peter were equal apostles—a Bible lesson, even on a barn.

Sarah watched in awestruck horror as the flaming beast devoured her neat white and gold circles within the bright blue squares. The paint crackled and blistered. Was it her imagination that the colors ran like blood? Was this a sign that she should not have asked to place it on the bishop’s barn—shouldn’t have been so worldly in her pride over it? She’d even felt a bit important when the local newspaper had put this painting and her picture—not of her face, of course—on the front page. But for so long she’d felt different from her Amish sisters and friends…. She stopped herself, knowing her line of thinking was a danger and a sin.