Plain Protector. Alison Stone

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      But her hunches had been wrong before. Just the fact that she was in this situation proved her point. She couldn’t let her guard down because a handsome man smiled at her.

      “I have a place I can take you.” Deputy Jennings shifted the vehicle into drive and her stomach lurched.

      “No, please. Take me home.”

      He cut her a sideways glance and his eyebrow twitched. Had he sensed her growing panic? If he had, he didn’t say as much.

      “You can call me Nick.”

      “Nick, take me home.” Frustration bubbled up inside her. The thought of pulling the door handle while they cruised at forty-five miles per hour down the country road entered her mind and left just as quickly. She had tried that once before, and Jimmy had grabbed her ponytail and yanked her back in, promising he’d snap her neck if she ever tried that again.

      Nick didn’t look like the kind of man who would lay a hand on a woman.

      Jimmy didn’t look like that kind of man, either. Not initially.

      “Please, I need to go home.”

      A look of confusion flickered across Nick’s face before he focused on the road in front of him again. “It’s okay. I won’t take you to the hospital. My sister runs a small health-care clinic on the edge of town. It won’t cost you anything. If we hurry, we can catch her before she closes up for the night. She usually works late. She can stitch you up right quick.”

      When Sarah gasped, Nick added, “It won’t be bad, I’ve had plenty of stitches over the years, much to the dismay of my nanny. My sister’ll do it as a favor to me. Don’t worry about the cost.”

      “Oh, I can’t.” Sarah’s head throbbed. She really, really wanted to go home and forget this miserable day. She couldn’t take free services that were meant for someone who really needed them. And they’d ask for her name. Details that could get her killed.

      Her anxiety spiked. If she freaked out now, Deputy Jennings—Nick—would think she had a screw loose. Best to remain calm and not raise any more suspicions.

      The yellow dash on the country road mesmerized Sarah. She had gotten used to hoofing it these past six months. A car required a license, registration, a digital footprint. Again, all things that would reveal her location, only sixty miles away from her stalker. She’d run away, but not too far. She needed to be able to reach her sick mother in Buffalo in an emergency. But for now, she stayed away, prayed for her mother’s health and maintained a low profile.

      “How come we’ve never officially met before?” Nick asked, as if reading her thoughts.

      “I haven’t been in town long.” Be vague.

      “What brought you to Apple Creek?” He cut a sideways glance before returning his attention to what was in front of him and the equally spaced cat’s eyes dotting the edge of the dark road. His question sounded innocent enough, but how could she be sure?

      “I’m a social worker working with individuals who are either addicted or susceptible to drug or alcohol addiction. I also work with single mothers—not necessarily Amish—to help them access programs and—”

      “You mentioned that before. But why here? Why Apple Creek?” Nick glanced at her quickly, then back at the road.

      “Why not?” Her words came out clipped despite her efforts to keep her tone even.

      “Seems like a remote place. Most newcomers to Apple Creek nowadays are the Amish folk. Do you have ties to the area? Family?”

      She crossed her ankles, then uncrossed them when she thought about the possibility of being in an accident and having her legs pinned against the dash in a contorted position. Sarah had a knack for worrying about everything.

      She cleared her throat. “The Amish are an underserved area. Many young adults are afraid to reveal their problems, substance abuse or otherwise, to their own community for fear of punishment from the church. At least with me, I can help them work through their issues without the added burden of feeling like they’ve let down their parents or the church. My hope is to help my clients be the best person they can be, whether they decide to stay in the community or not. No judgment on my part.”

      “How does that go over with the Amish community?” His tone reminded her of when people asked, “How’s that working for ya?” when it obviously wasn’t working at all.

      “I want to believe most Amish people appreciate my efforts, even if they won’t publicly acknowledge what I’m doing. I can respect that. The Amish are a humble people who prefer to remain true to their own community.” She wanted, no she needed, to work under the radar. Nick didn’t need to know that. The fewer people who knew her predicament, the less likely she’d be discovered. “If I can help someone who is struggling with drugs or alcohol, everyone benefits.” Sarah let out a long sigh. Her own father had been killed by a drunk driver. Sarah had heard more than once that social workers tended to come out of the ranks of individuals who needed some fixing in their own lives. If only the person who’d decided to drink and drive the day her father had been killed had chosen a different path. Had chosen to get help. How different her life might have been.

      “Do you think the person who threw the rock tonight was someone from your group meeting? Or maybe an angry family member who doesn’t appreciate what they might consider outside interference?”

      “I don’t want to believe one of the people I’m trying to help did this.” A chill skittered up her spine. Actually, Deputy Jennings, I think it was my crazy ex-boyfriend, but I don’t know how he would have found me. Sarah had taken tremendous pains to keep her location secret. The only ones who knew her background were the pastor and his wife. And Sarah trusted them completely.

      Of course, her mom back in Buffalo knew where her daughter was, but was careful to only contact her through her pastor, who would relay the message to Pastor Mike here in Apple Creek.

      Sarah’s life had become a tangled web of carefully crafted half-truths and secrets. The more she talked, the greater chance she had of being discovered. That’s why outside of work she had primarily kept to herself since she arrived in Apple Creek six months ago.

      “Most of my clients’ names are kept confidential.” Even as the words slipped from her mouth, she knew that wasn’t foolproof for confidentiality. Trust was the foundation of her group meetings. She couldn’t control what clients revealed about themselves or others once they left.

      Being a social worker, regardless of the community, had inherent risks: unstable patients, angry relatives and venturing into unsavory neighborhoods. But her need to help others—provide hope—trumped any threat to her personal safety. She took precautions. She wasn’t stupid.

      Nick made a noncommittal sound and slowed the vehicle, turning into the parking lot of a nondescript building. A lonely sedan with a dent in the back panel sat in the parking lot. “Good, we caught her.”

      Her, no doubt, being his sister. The physician.

      Sarah’s mouth went dry. “I can’t. I won’t get out of the car.”

      “My sister’s a great doctor. Don’t worry.”

      Sarah glanced СКАЧАТЬ