Whispers from the Dead (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 2) by Karen Ann Hopkins Page B

with more conviction, “Just last week they spent an entire day sledding at one of the neighbors.”
    I couldn’t help thinking about Naomi Beiler and how desperately she had wanted to escape the Amish. And she had ended up dying before she had even begun to live. Naomi’s story was very tragic, but I had to begrudgingly admit that a lot of the Amish kids seemed to accept their situations rather well, and maybe they even liked their existence. I guess I would just have to chalk it up to one of those things that I would probably never fully understand.
    “They’re really sweet girls. You should be very proud of them,” I offered diplomatically. “I am.” He paused for a moment. His steady and weighing gaze made me sit up straighter before he spoke again, “Are you ready to begin the investigation?”
    “Absolutely,” I assured him.
    We rose from the table together, but when I gazed out the window one last time, I paused. Standing with the group of young men beside the barn was a couple of non-Amish men that I hadn’t noticed before. One wore black boots and a black leather jacket. His face was covered with a short, clipped beard and his hawkish features made him stand out distinctly among the Germanic looking youngsters gathered around him. The other put me in mind of a chameleon as he was dressed more casually, wearing blue jeans and a brown coat. He had thick, wavy brown hair that most guys would kill for and large, black aviator shades that hid most of his face. And, whereas the alert, Taliban looking guy stuck out like a duck in a hen house, Mr. Chameleon, who was leaning back against the barn wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world, blended into the group of youngsters in a very strange way.
    My senses sharpened and my heart rate sped up. Something about those two men immediately put me on guard—but why?
    “Serenity?” Rowan’s eyebrows were raised questioningly.
    I picked up my small leather purse from the table and joined him. “Yep, I’m ready.”

    The buggy ride with Rowan was quite a bit different than the ride I had earlier with his daughters. First of all, the previous buggy had been open and the rush of cold air had been exhilarating. This time, I was overwhelmed with the claustrophobic feeling of being closed into the tiny space of the traditional buggy. The rubbery scent of the vinyl seats was strong and I wrinkled my nose at it as I tried not to brush arms against Rowan who was unavoidably sitting very close beside me. I only thought Mareena had been flying with her little pony. The sheer power of the large black horse stretching out in front of us had me gripping the door tightly with my right hand and the thundering clip clops on the pavement made it impossible to be heard without shouting.
    “Where are we going first?”
    “Abner Fisher’s place. He’s our bishop and the last fire took his barn.”
    “…and that’s where the body was found?” I verified.
    “Yes,” was all Rowan said. He pretended to be completely focused on directing the horse, but I knew better. His occasional glances and extremely rigid appearance told me that he was as bothered by our close proximity as I was.
    I liked having the man off balance and tried to use it to my advantage by plunging ahead.
    “I read in the newspaper that the body belonged to a woman, estimated to be between twenty-five and forty years old. But as of two days ago, the coroner still hadn’t identified the body.” I paused to watch four Amish teenagers riding astride and trotting their spotted horses by in the opposite direction, and then continued, “Do you have any idea who it is?”
    Rowan shook his head. “I haven’t got the slightest idea.”
    He met my gaze steadily, making me feel that he was telling the truth. “So you aren’t missing any women from the community…”
    Rowan interrupted, “Of course not. Why do you expect her to be Amish? I would assume that she’s English.”
    “My experience has been that