It's release day for my new book, WHEN SECRETS STRIKE! Look for it in stores and online starting today.
Here's the opening:
WHEN SECRETS STRIKE
by
Marta Perry
Chapter One
Be
careful out there. Sarah Beiler smiled, thinking of her mother’s familiar
goodbye as Sarah had climbed into her buggy this morning. Mammi always said the
same thing when any of her family left her sight. She’d really rather they stay
safely on the farm, even Sarah, who was nearing thirty and had long since been
accepted as a maidal, an old maid, by
their Pennsylvania Amish community.
What was there to be careful of on this
peaceful back road that wound between Amish and Englisch farms on its way to
the town of Laurel Ridge? The route took a bit longer to reach her quilt shop
than if Sarah had gone by the main road, but worth it to keep her mother from
worrying.
“Mamm is being a little silly, ain’t so,
Molly?” She could talk to her buggy horse out here without fear of being
overheard. “There’s not even a storm cloud in the sky today.”
Molly flickered her ears in response to
Sarah’s voice and then broke stride. The mare tossed her head, snorting.
“What are you—“ Sarah stopped, seeing a few seconds
later what Molly had sensed immediately. Smoke, snaking its way up between the
trees ahead of her.
“Someone burning trash, that’s all.” But
doubt threaded her words. There was too much smoke for that, surely. Hard on
the thought she saw the sparks, shooting upward, landing among the trees. Her
heart thudded in her chest.
Fire.
The one thing that farmers feared most, especially in such a dry summer. She
slapped the lines, sending the mare surging ahead. She’d have to see for
herself what was burning.
Around the next curve in the winding road,
the source was visible. Flames licked the back wall of a barn, and smoke
billowed upward, fanned by the summer breeze. An unused barn, thank the gut
Lord, part of the property belonging to an elderly widow who lived in town. No
animals were in danger, at least, but if the fire spread—
Sarah froze for an instant, undecided. Race
to the nearest phone to call for help? Or check first in case someone needed
help? A glimpse of the small cottage near the barn decided her. The cottage
wasn’t empty—Mrs. Everly let Gus Hill live there in exchange for keeping an eye
on the property. Sarah had to be sure he wasn’t in danger.
Turning an unwilling Molly onto the lane,
Sarah touched her with the buggy whip, and they bucketed up to the cottage.
Sarah jumped down and raced to the door, her breath coming quickly. If Gus was
there, surely he’d have smelled the fire by now, unless he’d somehow provided
himself with a bottle, in which case he could well be passed out and unaware of
the danger.
“Gus! Gus Hill! Are you in there?” Sarah
pounded on the door, glancing toward the flames that licked at the barn roof.
“Gus!” She twisted the knob, and the door swung open.
A quick glance around the two littered
rooms told her that wherever Gus was, he wasn’t here. But the barn—
She ran back outside. The fire ate greedily
at one corner of the roof, sending a shower of sparks toward the trees. He
couldn’t be in there. He couldn’t be. She should hurry to the nearest phone.
But she couldn’t, not without being sure.
Her breath catching, Sarah raced to the
barn. The heat radiating from it terrified her, but she had to look—had to be
sure. She grabbed the hem of her apron and held it over her mouth and nose.
Eyes watering, she peered through the open doorway. Empty—not even any old hay
bales to feed the fire. And no crumpled body lying unconscious, either.
A timber crashed, flaming, to the barn
floor, sending a trail of fire heading toward her. Sarah spun, fleeing to the
buggy, not needing to use the whip to persuade Molly into a gallop. They jolted
back down the lane, back around the bend. The Stoltzfus farm, that would be
closest, and they had a phone shanty near their barn.
Molly raced up the Stoltzfus’s lane,
heading straight for their barn as if it were her own. Sarah halted the mare at
the phone shanty, stumbled down, and grabbed the receiver, hitting 911. By the
time she’d gasped out the information to the emergency dispatcher, Ben Stoltzfus
was running toward her from the barn, followed by three of his sons, while his
wife, Miriam, hurried from the house, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Was ist letz, Sarah? What’s wrong?” Ben
grasped her arm.
A fit of coughing seized her, and she could
only point.
“Ach, how did we not smell it? Fire—the old
Everly barn, ja?”
Sarah nodded, catching her breath. “I
spotted it when I was passing. The sparks—“ She didn’t need to explain the
danger to Ben. He was already turning to his sons.
“Buckets and shovels into the wagon, quick.
We must keep it from spreading until the fire truck gets here.”
Wide-eyed, the boys ran to obey. Ben raced
for the paddock and his buggy horse.
Miriam had reached Sarah by then and
wrapped her arm around her. “You’re all right? Komm, let me see. You didn’t
burn yourself?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” A cough interrupted the
words. “Just need a drink of water, I think.”
“For sure. Into the house, now.” Miriam
glanced to the oldest of her daughters. “Emma, go and call the neighbors. Tell
them the Everly barn is burning. Quick!”
Ten-year-old Emma paled, but she bolted to
the phone shanty.
Suddenly weak in the knees, Sarah was
grateful for Miriam’s arm around her as they headed for the farmhouse. Miriam,
like any Amish mammi, clucked and comforted and scolded all at once as she
gently shoved Sarah onto a kitchen chair and then set a glass of water in front
of her.
“You rest a minute. I’ll start coffee.
Lucky I have a couple of jugs of lemonade I can take over, too. The firefighters
will need a drink.”
Sarah nodded, accepting Miriam’s automatic
assumption that they would provide what was needed. It was what neighbors did.
“Maybe take drinking water, as well. I don’t know how the water source is over
there.”
“Ja, that’s true.” Miriam bustled around,
putting one daughter in charge of the baby and enlisting the other two in
carrying jugs and cups to Sarah’s buggy.
“I looked for Gus Hill.” Sarah cleared her
throat and took another gulp of water. “No sign of him.”
“He’s never one to hang around if there’s
trouble,” Miriam said darkly. “I don’t know what Julia Everly pays him for
looking after things, but he’s not worth it, that’s certain sure.”
Reluctant as she was to speak ill of
anyone, Sarah had to admit that Miriam was most likely right. Gus was a fixture
in the township, well known for his talent for getting by on the least possible
effort.
By the time the buggy was loaded, Sarah
could hear the wail of the siren. The fire truck roared by, followed by the
usual cars and trucks carrying extra volunteers. Most of the able-bodied men in
the area belonged to the volunteer fire company, both Amish and Englisch. Like
Aaron King.
Sarah shoved the name to the back of her
mind as she and Miriam drove in the wake of the volunteers. She had no right to
be more concerned for Aaron than for any other of her Amish brethren. Now if
she could only convince herself of that fact…
By the time they reached the Everly
property, the barn was fully engulfed. Figures in yellow protective gear
swarmed around it, but Sarah could see they were more intent on keeping the
fire from spreading than on trying to save the structure. It was too late for
that.
Mollie whinnied, shaking her head
nervously, so Sarah led her a short distance away, tethering her to a tree.
Miriam had shoved a folding table into the buggy behind the seat. They pulled
it out and began setting thermoses and jugs on it.
Scanning the firefighters, all so alike in
their gear, Sarah knew she was searching for Aaron. She caught a glimpse of chestnut-colored
beard, and her breath went out in an involuntary sigh of relief. He was there,
of course, and he was safe. That slighter figure next to him was probably his
teenage brother, Jonah. He’d be keeping a close eye on the boy.
The barn roof collapsed with a roar and a
shower of sparks, and for a few minutes the scene reminded Sarah of an angry
beehive as the volunteers fought to extinguish the flying sparks.
Miriam caught her hand, and Sarah realized
she was watching her husband. Ben leaned on his shovel, coughing, but in a
moment he’d straightened and was back at work.
Finally the barn was nothing more than a sullen
black heap, still sending smoke and fumes into the air. In twos and threes the
firefighters began drifting over to the table, and Sarah and Miriam were
suddenly busy pouring out drinks.
“Sarah?” The sound of her name had her turning.
Mac Whiting, Laurel Ridge’s police chief, stood
behind her, pulling a notebook from his pocket. He looked very official in his
blue uniform with a weapon at his hip, and only the fact that she’d known him
since childhood kept her from retreating into the usual Amish reticence when
confronted with Englisch officials.
“Some coffee, Mac?”
He shook his head. “Save it for the guys who did all
the work.” He snapped his pen. “I understand you called in the fire.”
“I was on my way to town. To the shop,” she added,
although Mac would know that well enough. “I saw the smoke before I came around
the bend, and then I saw the flames. In the back, the fire was, then,” she
said, pointing.
“So you went over to Ben and Miriam’s to call?” He
jotted the information down, though what good it would do anyone, she didn’t
know.
“Ja. But I checked, first, to see if Gus was here. I
pounded on the cottage door. No answer, but I was afraid he was asleep, maybe.”
Mac grinned. “That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.
I take it you didn’t see him.”
“The door wasn’t locked, so I checked inside, but
the cottage was empty. Then I was afraid he might be in the barn.” She seemed
to feel the heat on her face again. “I looked, but—“
“You never went near a burning building!” Aaron King
was suddenly at her side, looking as if he’d like to shake her. “Ach, Sarah,
whatever were you thinking?”
His obvious concern warmed Sarah’s heart despite the
fact that he was looking at her as if she were an erring child.
“I was thinking same as you would have,” she said,
her voice tart. “If someone was lying there in danger, I couldn’t just go away.
And don’t go telling me I shouldn’t have, because I had to.”
Aaron’s hand closed around her wrist for an instant,
and her breath caught. Then he let go, shaking his head, his brown eyes
crinkling a bit at the corners. “You always were a stubborn one, Sarah Beiler.
Quiet, but stubborn.”
Too quiet, she
couldn’t help thinking. If she’d given him even a hint of what she felt, all
those years ago, would it have made a difference?
“It’s just as well she looked, or we might have
thought there was a body in there.” Mac sounded practical. “Might have known
Gus wouldn’t be anywhere around when there was trouble.”
“Julia Everly is going to be so upset.” Sarah
pictured the tart-tongued elderly woman. “She never would let go of this
property, because her husband used to love coming out here. And now that she’s
laid up herself with a broken leg, she’ll really be fretting.”
“You mean she’ll be calling me every five minutes to
find out what progress I’m making,” Mac said.
Sarah looked at him blankly. “Calling you? Why?”
“I’m the local fire marshal, remember? I’m supposed
to have answers.”
“Ja, but what could you do?” she asked. “The
firefighters did their best. At least they kept blaze from spreading. As dry as
it’s been, it’s lucky the woods didn’t catch.”
“Not that.” Mac frowned. “Look around you. There’s
not a cloud in the sky. No lightning to set it off. Nothing combustible stored
in the barn. No electricity even. So how did the barn catch fire to begin
with?”
Arson. She felt
Aaron stiffen next to her. The word didn’t have to be said aloud to chill the
blood.
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