âI thought of leaving, once.â
Emma gave him a startled look. âLeaving ⦠Paradise Ridge? Or your faith?â
âBoth.â
Caleb stopped, stunned that he had said it, that he had told this stranger, this woman, this English, what he had told no one else. Ever.
âIâve found,â Emma said, âthat itâs never a good or successful idea to run away from something.â
âWhat did you mean, when you said I didnât have to worry?â
âIâve turned up a couple of possible leads. They stopped an older man driving a van with a couple of young girls in it.â
Caleb drew back sharply. âHannah?â
âNo, sorry,â Emma said quickly. âNeither girl is a match to any of ours.â
Any of ours.
Sheâd said it as if she truly felt it. As if the missing girls were a part of her own community.
Lovely, empathetic and smartâshe was all of that.
And to him, apparently, dangerous.
Dear Reader,
One of the most popular stories in fiction is the âfish out of water.â Itâs basically a tale of someone cast into a world strange to them, where they donât have the skills to survive, or donât have the knowledge of the culture to keep from drawing unwanted and sometimes painful attention to themselves, a world where they quite simply Donât Belong.
This would be me and, say, computer programming. Call me clueless, but I have no idea. Iâm just glad others do. Some days I wonder what life would be like without technology, what it would be like to simply unplug.
The Amish have chosen to live that life free of those electronic ties. Their world is above all peaceful, and also separate, yet it seems inevitable that now and then our world will intrude into theirs. Such is the case in this story, where the clash of worlds is cold and harsh, yet out of the collision grows an unexpected connection between two people with the odds stacked against them. Can the âfish out of waterâ make the changes necessary to get to her happy ending?
I hope you enjoy it.
Justine Davis
Donât miss the next three books in
THE COLTONS OF EDEN FALLS:
Coltonâs Ranch Refuge by Beth Cornelison
Coltonâs Deep Cover by Elle Kennedy
Colton Showdown by Marie Ferrarella
JUSTINE DAVIS lives on Puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by, and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when sheâs not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadsterâtop down, of course.
Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com, at Twitter.com/Justine_D_Davis, or on Facebook at Facebook.com/JustineDareDavis.
âHey, tomato-head.â
For an instant Emma Colton thought sheâd somehow slipped back in time, that she was back on the ranch being rudely awakened by her annoying brother Tate, who was three years older and had teased her incessantly about her rather bright red hair.
Clutching her phone, she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, the sight of the familiar bedroom of her Cleveland apartment orienting her back into the present. Still, as she shoved her tangled hair away from her face, she felt a tiny frisson of relief that it was still the darker, richer auburn of adulthood. That made her smile, until she realized what time it was.
She yawned. âYou donât even have the excuse of a different time zone, bro. This better be good.â
âI take back tomato-head. Sleepyhead fits better,â Tate Colton said.
âItâs five in the morning. I thought I was the workaholic in the family.â
âPlease. It comes with the Colton name. Youâre just worst than most. Except maybe Uncle Joe.â
She laughed, humor restored. The man theyâd grown up calling Uncle Joe, although he was in fact their late fatherâs cousin, was indeed dedicated to his work. That hadnât prevented him from standing in for their deceased parents on occasion. Like every Colton, he took family responsibilities very seriously.
Almost as seriously as he took his job as president of the United States.
âSo what is it that has you waking me up at this hour?â
âI need your help, little sister.â
Something had changed in her brotherâs deep voice. The teasing note had vanished, replaced by a grim seriousness. Instantly she responded, sitting up straight, shoving aside the warmth of the covers.
âWhat?â
âIâve got three missing girls.â
As a Philadelphia police detective, Tate having a case of even three missing girls sadly wasnât shocking. Nor would that alone necessitate this early-morning call to her; if he needed FBI help on a case, he had his own contacts. Not that the name Colton wasnât enough to get him in about any door he wanted at the Hoover Building.
âWhy me?â she asked. âNot that I donât mind giving you wise advice, even though you never take it, butââ
âTheyâre Amish.â