A frown settled on his brow as his eyes went back to the picture, studying the man’s face in a desperate attempt to place him. Then, like a lightning bolt it struck him. He knew exactly who this man was. It was the same doctor he had once taken one of his cousins to see, before she and Benjamin were to be married. He remembered it clearly. It was one of the hottest days that summer. His uncle’s truck needed a particular engine part and he was sent to collect it at the store. His uncle had asked him to take a few of the women to buy quilting supplies, and his cousin, Rebecca, to an appointment with the chiropractor. He recalled how tense she was on the way there, worse after her appointment when the doctor walked her out.

  Caleb’s insides trembled as he read the column, pausing on the paragraph emphasizing the mysterious circumstances under which the doctor died.

  He pushed the paper to one side, desperate to make sense of the sudden angst that rippled through his body. There was more to the story that nagged at his memory. Fisher… Fisher…the doctor’s name echoed in his mind. Until everything inside him froze and sank to the pit of his stomach.

  As if a bolt of electricity shot into his legs, Caleb ran up the stairs, his feet navigating the modern polished concrete steps two at a time. From the top of his bedroom closet, he pulled out the shoebox where he kept all his sister’s letters. Tossing the contents atop his bed, his shaky fingers sifted through them until he found one of the letters she sent him about three months ago.

  Caleb's hands trembled as he slid his finger beneath the loosened wax seal of the letter, the parchment crinkling under his touch. The familiar pretty script of Rachel's handwriting greeted him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. He held his breath and began to read, each word piercing his heart like a cold dagger.

  "Dearest Caleb," the letter began, "I am writing to you in great fear and desperation. My time here in the Amish community has become unbearable, and for the first time I now know why you had to leave. I wish I had the courage to leave too, before it consumes me. There is darkness all around me, a sinister weight that presses down upon my soul, threatening to suffocate the very life out of me. A life I no longer want.“

  As Caleb's eyes scanned the words, he could almost hear Rachel's voice, soft and pleading, trembling as if on the verge of tears. The letter detailed how her days had become filled with dread and anxiety, how she found herself constantly feeling unworthy of God’s love, fearing who she might become or what she’d need to do to finally be rid of the darkness that imprisoned her soul. It was as if his once warm and happy sister’s soul was suddenly covered in a shadowy landscape of secrets and gloom.

  His eyes scanned farther down the page.

  “The doctor is creepy, and I don’t want to see him anymore,” she wrote. “His eyes speak of pure evil that I can no longer fight. You have always been my protector, even when we were children, which is why I am writing this letter. Not to burden you, but to ask for your wisdom and prayers. I need to leave this place, to escape the darkness that has taken hold of me every time I see Dr. Fisher. I know it will not be easy, but my faith tells me that there is still hope, and that hope lies with you. Your loving sister in faith and hope." The letter concluded, "Rachel."

  Caleb's grip on the letter tightened, his knuckles turning white as he absorbed the desperation in his sister's words. He could feel her fear, her longing for a way out, and it tore at him. The wound threatened to rip him apart. The once peaceful world of their childhood was gone, replaced by an ominous fear she could no longer bear. How did he not see it before? How could he be so self-absorbed and blinded by his stubborn will to shut out his previous life that he abandoned the only person who meant anything to him?

  Caleb’s heart pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer, each beat ringing in his ears as he stared at the words before him. His sister, Rachel—his sweet, innocent sister—was trapped in a web of fear and desperation. She had reached out to him through the letter, hoping that he would catch her cry for help, knowing she was risking everything by asking him for help. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps, as if the weight of her plea was crushing his lungs. Once again, he had let her down, had betrayed their bond, had neglected his duty.

  Her desperate words echoed in his mind, playing on an endless loop. He could feel the icy tendrils of dread seeping into his very soul, threatening to swallow him whole.

  But beneath it all burned a fierce, unwavering loyalty—a bond forged in the fires of childhood memories, stronger than any force on earth. And it was this loyalty that would be his guiding light, no matter what darkness lay ahead.

  “Rachel,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, “I swear to you, I will find a way to help you.”

  With every ounce of strength he could muster, Caleb fought to steady his shaking hands, straightening the letter that had crumpled between his fingers. The realization settled upon him like a shroud. In order to save his sister, he would have to confront his family and everything he had fought so desperately to leave behind.

  “God help me,” he murmured, the prayer escaping his lips. “Give me the courage to face what I must, and the strength to protect Rachel from whatever evil threatens her.” He drew in a deep breath, “And help me not to lose you in the process.”

  His determination burned with an intensity that eclipsed even the darkest corners of his fears. For Rachel, he would walk through the fire once more, cross back into the life he had so desperately broken free from, and face the people who turned their back on him. He had abandoned Rachel once before, and that was once too many.

  As Caleb’s resolve solidified, the air around him seemed to hum with an electrifying energy, as if God Himself had heard his plea and granted him the strength he sought.

  He folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his pocket, the words within etched into his very being. For his sister, he would sacrifice everything—even if it meant returning to the very place that had nearly destroyed his soul.

  Chapter Nine

  Angus parked his cruiser at the edge of the narrow country road that led into the Amish community and took in the quiet surroundings. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was early, perhaps too early, he thought as sudden concern over his early timing struck. For a brief moment he thought of waiting until the sun fully rose. On the other hand, he had wrestled all night with the perplexity of the case and that Rachel, the Amish girl, was his only lead at this point. Not to mention that Hannah was one of the most persistent reporters he knew. The story would be splashed all over the Weyport Herald’s front page and from experience he knew that the townsfolk’s tongues would start wagging before lunch rolled around. Time wasn’t on his side. The sooner he was able to rule the doctor’s death an accident, or better yet, natural, the easier it will be for all.

  But deep in the pit of his stomach, an uneasy feeling had already taken root.

  He turned his attention back to the humble settlement. In the early morning sunrise, a warm golden glow lit up the landscape with hues of bright yellow, casting long shadows on the idyllic scenery. Modest yet meticulously maintained houses stood in stark contrast to the earthy tones of the last autumn leaves that lay thick beneath the scattered trees. Small wisps of smoke rose from a few chimneys, signaling the start of day and a community already hard at work behind the scenes.

  Deciding to leave his vehicle behind, knowing that outside automobiles weren’t generally welcome inside the commune, he got out of his vehicle and started walking the short distance to the entrance along the road. The air was crisp, and a thin layer of frost covered the elevated patches in the adjacent fields and pastures as the thick scent of fresh manure drifted toward him. From somewhere afar a rooster was late to the party, his crowing reminding Angus just how simple life on the farm was. For the briefest of moments, it distracted him, memories of his childhood days in Scotland dancing at the back of his mind. Life was simpler then too.

  As he approached the entrance marked by the large timber sign that had a single Dutch-like word carved into it, he nervously adjusted his belt before straightening his jacket. Feeling more out of place than he had anticipated, he started towards the heart of the Amish enclave.

  This was his first encounter with the Amish outside of the two tightlipped men from the previous night, and from what he learned on the Internet the night before they were a tight-knit community, suspicious of outsiders and protective of their way of life. But Rachel was his only lead so far, and he needed answers.

  As he approached, he noticed the curious glances from two young men who were pulling a large wooden cart of hay toward a hungry herd of livestock that was pushing their heads through the wooden fence. He nodded politely, acknowledging the residents as he walked past them. By the time he got to the end of the road, as if the rooster was all that was needed to bring the community to life, about half a dozen young children came storming toward him. An older woman chased after them, directing the kids to a nearby building Angus assumed was their schoolhouse. She stopped to greet him, her eyes curious but guarded.

  “Good morning,” Angus greeted her then introduced himself before adding, ”I’m hoping to speak to a young woman named Rachel, if that’s possible, please?”

  The woman stared back at him, her eyes narrow with suspicion.

  “We have many Rachels here, Sheriff,” she replied.

  “Right, of course,” he fumbled feeling nervous. “It’s just, I don’t have a last name. All I know is that she was seen in the nearby town yesterday. She had gone with her mother and aunt, I believe.”

  The woman straightened her apron before one hand went to her hip.

  “I don’t know anything about that, Sheriff, but I’ll take you to see the bishop. You will need to ask him. This way,” she said, already hastily leading the way.

  When she stopped outside one of the houses, she nodded toward the door.

  “Bishop Jedediah is in there with the others. They’re having their morning meeting. Please wait here while I call him.”

  Angus nodded, nerves tightening in his stomach. The same nerves he felt the day before when he met with the two Amish men who stood watch outside the store. The same nerves that whispered in his ears, telling him something was amiss.

  As he watched a group of teens quietly walk into the nearby barn, he asked God to calm his spirit, to help him ask the right questions, to give him insight that would help solve the case.

  Less than a minute later, the woman was back, followed by a man who looked much like the two men from outside the general store the day before.

  The man looked to be in his late sixties, his impenetrable eyes and inscrutable countenance giving little away as he stood before Angus. Moments later, three more similar looking men flanked his sides, and it was obvious to Angus that they were the leaders of the community.

  “Sheriff Reid,” the bishop eventually acknowledged, his voice deep and measured. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit on such a bright early morning?”

  Angus didn’t miss the cleverly disguised hint at the bad timing of his visit that was masked by the bishop’s friendly words.

  “I apologize, Bishop, but it couldn’t wait. I’m afraid I’m here on official business.”

  The men’s faces were stern as they waited in silence. Angus shuffled nervously before he continued.

  “I’m here about Dr. Fisher’s passing. I understand he was quite well known by your community, and I need to ask some questions, particularly about a young girl named Rachel. It is believed that she might have been the last person to see the doctor alive.”

  The men exchanged glances. The bishop folded his hands in front of him, his expression unreadable.

  “Rachel Beiler?” he finally asked, his tone deliberate.

  “I’m not sure, Bishop. I understand there are a few women here with the same first name. However, if this Rachel Beiler was indeed the young woman who had an appointment with Dr. Fisher yesterday, then she would be whom I need to speak to yes. Do you know where I might find her, please?”

  The bishop glanced at the men beside him, turning his attention back to Angus.

  “Sheriff, Rachel Beiler has been missing since yesterday evening. We’ve searched the community, but there’s no sign of her.”

  Angus’ eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

  “Missing? Did she leave a note or give any indication of where she might have gone?”

  “No. She was helping her mother with evening chores and when they went to check on her later, she was gone,” the bishop explained. “We’ve been praying for her safe return, but as of now, we’re in the dark.”

  The unease was back, this time hitting the core of Angus’ chest.

  “This complicates things, Bishop. If Rachel Beiler was the last person to have seen Dr. Fisher alive, I definitely need to find her. It’s really important. In fact, if I were to assume that she had nothing to do with the doctor’s death, she could very well be in grave danger.”

  Chapter Ten

  The bishop’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Our community values its privacy. We are cooperative, but we cannot allow an outsider to disrupt our way of life. Sometimes the young ones rebel against the Ordnung, but more often than not they return on their own.”

  Angus sighed, his hands on his hips as he watched the farm come alive around them. Understanding the delicate balance he needed to maintain, his voice was gentle but firm when he spoke.

  “I appreciate the concern you have for your community, it’s certainly warranted, and I assure you of my utmost respect toward you and your people, but a man was found dead on his floor yesterday. A man who we believe had close ties to this community. Now, while at the present moment we don’t have evidence to support that his death was with malicious intentions, we also cannot assume that it wasn’t. Until proven otherwise, I have a duty to assume the worst-case scenario, and Rachel might be the only one who can clear it all up. If she has any information about her visit with Dr. Fisher yesterday, it could make all the difference. We already know she had an appointment to see him, and we have a witness who can confirm that she arrived for her appointment. Another witness also told us that she was acting quite out of character afterwards. It is vital that I find her, especially if there’s even the slightest chance that foul play was involved. Not to mention the fact that if Rachel Beiler was there, or even saw what happened, she could be at risk of falling victim to the same fate as Dr. Fisher. I can put out the word and have a search party here within the hour, and I’ll do my best to minimize any disruption, but I have to speak to Rachel.”

  Desperation and fear flooded Angus’ insides, his suspicions over the doctor’s mysterious death growing with each passing second.

  The bishop studied Angus’ face, his eyes piercing deep into his soul as if to search for answers Angus didn’t have. After several moments the bishop finally spoke, reluctance evident in his voice.

  “You can speak with Rachel’s parents. They might have more insight into her whereabouts.”

  Angus nodded, grateful that at least his request wasn’t refused.

  The bishop nodded to a woman who had been waiting in the doorway of the house before he turned and left, his posse of elders in his wake.

  The plump woman’s face revealed an emotion Angus couldn’t quite lay his finger on. Nerves perhaps? Or was it fear? But she wasted no time and set off down the path. Angus rushed after her, jumping to match her energetic pace as they wove between the houses.

  Slightly out of breath, Angus needed to seize whatever opportunity he had at his disposal.

  “I appreciate you helping me. Do you know the girl?”

  The woman shot a fearful glance over her shoulder then dropped her brisk walk to a steadier pace.

  “My husband won’t appreciate me speaking to you, Sheriff.”

  “The bishop is your husband?”

  She nodded then offered a brief introduction. “Yes, I’m Esther Yoder. My husband, Jedediah has been the bishop for many years now.”

  “I don’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position Mrs. Yoder, but anything you can tell me about Rachel or the doctor would be very helpful.”

  She glanced at him sideways, squinting at the sun that hit her face.

  “Everyone knows Rachel. She’s a lovely girl, young and foolish as they all are at her age, but lovely nonetheless.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s just turned sixteen, the time when all the girls start their adjustments.”

  Angus frowned.

  “Adjustments? Forgive me, I’m not that familiar with your customs.”

  The woman stopped abruptly, her eyes darting in all directions before she spoke again. This time with hushed tones.

  “Dr. Fisher has been our community’s chiropractor for decades, since long before my husband became the bishop. His father started the practice when my mother came of age. His treatments are something the women here have all grown to accept as being part of their marital preparation, and it starts when we turn sixteen. We practice natural home birthing, without any interference from modern medicine; we do whatever we can to ensure everything goes smoothly when the time comes. It has long been advised by the council that Dr. Fisher’s treatments minimize birthing complications and in turn, eliminate the need for modern medical intervention. It’s just the way it’s done around here.”

  Something in her voice told Angus she didn’t agree with it, and he decided to push the topic.

  “But you don’t agree.”

  She shot him a stern look before she looked away and started walking again, increasing her pace with even more vigor.

  “It doesn’t matter what I or any of the other women believe. It’s what the Ordnung says we should do.”

  “What about you? Have you ever been to see Dr. Fisher?”