Amish Haven. Dana R. Lynn

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      An officer entered the room. Officer Cale. They’d worked together on cases before. Tyler had always liked the quiet officer. “Tyler, our men have caught Barco. They’re bringing him in now. I hate to tell you this, but your boss—”

      “He’s dead.” Tyler’s voice was flat.

      Cale nodded.

      “Where did they catch Barco? Surely the man wasn’t dumb enough to hang around the crime scene when you caught him.”

      Cale hesitated. Sensing more bad news, Tyler tensed.

      “You were right that he would find out who you were. He was in your apartment.”

      Stunned, Tyler stared at him. Then some of the tension drained out of his shoulders.

      “Good to know they caught him. Though I don’t like that he was in my place.” Tyler took a long drink of the bottled water they had brought him. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was.

      Cale gave him a funny look.

      “What?”

      “You know it’s not that easy, Tyler.”

      Before he had time to think about Cale’s words, the door opened. A man who looked to be close to his age entered the room. Officer Cale straightened. The new arrival nodded at the officer before his gaze zeroed in on Tyler. His face was hard to read, but Tyler thought he could detect some sympathy in his eyes.

       I’m not going to like this.

      “Mr. Everson. I’m US Marshal Jonathan Mast.”

      Tyler’s gut clenched. It couldn’t be good if the US Marshals were getting involved.

      “You’re in a precarious position right now. Wilson Barco has his fingers in just about every crime venue you can imagine. But he could never be prosecuted because we could never find witnesses to his crimes.”

      Tyler nodded, not liking where this was going. He’d known that Barco had slipped through the cracks before.

      “We believe that Gene Landis was on his payroll.”

      “No way. Not Gene!” He shook his head vehemently. Gene had always been a stickler about doing everything the proper way. And now to find out he’d been living a double life? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

      “Yes, Gene.” Mast pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Sorry, but that’s what the evidence is adding up to. Barco is a man with vast resources. You are the first reliable witness we’ve ever had who could incriminate him. If we were to allow you to remain in your apartment, there’s no doubt in my mind that you would be killed or simply vanish before you could testify.”

      For a moment, there was silence as Tyler thought through the matter. Finally, he spoke. “What’s your plan? Will I get police protection? Go to a safe house?”

      Mast shook his head. “Neither of those options would be enough. Barco’s reach is too vast. No telling who we can trust. We’re putting you in witness protection.”

      A sick feeling overwhelmed him. He knew all about witness protection. Those who went in lost all connection with their families. His daughter, Bethany—would he never see her again? Would she even know about him, or would she grow up and forget he even existed? And what about Annabelle? He had no hope of ever winning back his wife again, he knew that. He couldn’t change who he was, and she had already shown that she couldn’t accept that. Not to mention the danger he’d put her in if they were to get back together. But he’d never imagined a life where he could not even see her or hear her voice again.

      The future that loomed ahead of him was dark and empty.

      * * *

      The hair on the back of Annabelle Everson’s neck rose. Was she being watched? She glanced around the grocery store, but no one appeared to be paying any attention to them. She must have imagined it. She shivered, then blamed it on the air-conditioning.

      Even though she knew it wasn’t the cold that was making her shiver. This was the second time today she’d felt like someone was watching her. The first time had been outside the library, where she took her daughter every Wednesday afternoon for the reading hour. Today the library had been busier than normal. The local fire department had sent several of the firefighters and a truck to talk about fire safety. The children present were thrilled to get to touch a real fire truck.

      After the library, she and Bethany went shopping. It was their weekly routine.

      Annabelle pushed the cart down the aisle, listening as Bethany chattered on about the letter she’d received from her kindergarten teacher. Annabelle could hardly believe that her baby would be starting school in a month. Where had the time gone?

      “Mommy, Tasha and Nikki said that their daddy is taking them swimming tomorrow.”

      Annabelle braced herself. Tasha and Nikki were the twins who lived two doors down from them. Since they had moved in three months ago, Bethany had started to talk about their daddy constantly. Which nearly always progressed to “Why doesn’t my daddy do that?”

      In truth, Annabelle wasn’t even sure that Bethany remembered Tyler. It had been three years since she’d left him. He’d seen Bethany a few times after that, but not since she was three years old. She had seen pictures of him, though.

      Her heart ached for her baby.

      “Mommy, when will I see my daddy again?”

      And there it was.

      “Honey, I don’t know. You know that. But I can take you swimming or to the playground with your friends if you want to go. I always do.”

      It didn’t help. Bethany crossed her arms across her thin body and pushed out her lower lip. Oh, no. The last thing Annabelle wanted was for her daughter to go into a full meltdown in the middle of grocery store.

      “Don’t even think about throwing a tantrum, Bethany Jane. Or you won’t be going swimming with your friends tomorrow.”

      Bethany glared, but wisely kept silent. Annabelle never proposed consequences she wasn’t prepared to follow through on. It was one thing she’d learned as a single parent—something she’d never planned on being.

      “Mommy, why is that man watching us?”

      Forgetting her daughter’s near tantrum, Annabelle swung her head in the direction that Bethany pointed. Her heart pounded at the thought that she’d finally see who was watching them. No one was. A young man in his early twenties was reading the label on a soup can. After a second, he dropped two cans into his shopping cart and moved past her to continue shopping.

      “He’s just shopping, Bethy. Like us.” Despite her words, she couldn’t relax. Her gut tightened. Her maternal instinct was on full alert. A mother knew when danger was near her child.

      “Let’s finish up and get home, okay? If we hurry, we can stop and get pizza for dinner.”

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