Shadows of Lancaster County

MINDY STARNS
          CLARK

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON

Sripture quotations are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION
^®
. NIV
^®
. Copyright©1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Cover by Dugan Design Group, Bloomington, Minnesota

Cover photos © Tom Laman / National Geographic / Getty Images; David R. Frazier Photolibrary, Inc. / Alamy; Stockxpert

The author is represented by MacGregor Literary.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

SHADOWS OF LANCASTER COUNTY

Copyright © 2009 by Mindy Starns Clark

Published by Harvest House Publishers

Eugene, Oregon 97402

www.harvesthousepublishers.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Clark, Mindy Starns.

Shadows of Lancaster County / Mindy Starns Clark.

      p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7369-2447-4 (pbk.)

1. Missing persons—Fiction. 2. Genetics—Research—Fiction. 3. Amish—Fiction. 4. Lancaster County (Pa.)—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3603.L366S53 2009

813.’6—dc22

2008040073

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

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For Shari Weber,
who helps me in ways too numerous to count,
meets challenges with grace and strength,
and lives God’s truth every day.
I’m honored to call you my friend!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Discover the Smart Chick Mysteries

I am deeply indebted to:

John Clark, for always, for everything.

Emily and Lauren Clark, for patience and understanding and inspiration.

Kim Moore, for putting up with me—cheerfully!—over and over and over.

All of the amazing folks at Harvest House Publishers.

Thanks also to:

ChiLibris, Alice Clark, Colleen Coble, the members of my online advisory group CONSENSUS, Aaron Dillon, Traci Hall, Traci Hoffman, Karri James, Aaron Jarvis, Benjamin Jarvis, Laura Knudson, Kristian, Tobi Layton, Chip MacGregor, Tom Morrissey, Gayle Roper, Ned & Marie Scannell, Tami, Abby Van Wormer, Sisters in Crime, Shari Weber, Richard & Janet White, and Stacie Williams.

Special thanks to Erik Wesner, author of
www.amishamerica.typepad.com
.

Finally, thanks to J.K. Wolfe, MD, and Harry Krause, MD, outstanding physicians who generously brainstormed with me as I attempted to blur the lines between medical reality and what-if fiction. Any inaccuracies—not to mention flights of fancy—are purely mine.

I’m dead.
The powerful engine gunning behind him drowned out every other thought. He held on to the handlebars of the borrowed motorcycle, crouched low on the leather seat, and accelerated as far as he dared. When the dark car struck his rear tire the first time, he managed to hang on through the jolt, though just barely. Regaining control, he crouched even lower and gripped the handlebars more tightly, adrenaline surging in the piercing cold. In vain he searched the blackness ahead for an escape, for some point of diversion where the motorcycle could go but the car pursuing him could not. Caught on the wide curve of a hilly highway, there were no shoulders here, and no way to know what lay in the darkness off to the right beyond the metal guardrail. Worse, he knew he couldn’t swerve back and forth on the blacktop to dodge the next hit, because moves like that on a motorcycle would end up flipping the bike and high-siding him whether the car rammed into him again or not.

A second jolt came just as the guardrail ended, a collision that nearly managed to unseat him. Barely hanging on, he regained his balance, scooted forward on the leather seat, and took a deep breath, conscious of the vehicle still roaring aggressively behind him in murderous pursuit. In a choice between certain death on the road and possible survival off of it, he steeled his nerves and made the decision to leave the pavement no
matter what he might run into. Holding on tight, he shifted his weight and angled the handlebars to the right, veering into the unknown darkness. The action was punctuated by a series of bumps and jolts as his tires went from blacktop to gravel to crunchy brown grass.

Let it be a field, God. Let it be somebody’s farm.

The headlamp of the borrowed motorcycle was strong, its beam slicing through the February night air to reveal the unfamiliar terrain he had driven himself into. Before he could discern what lay ahead, however, before he could even slow down or adjust his direction or see if the car had tried to follow, he spotted the looming gray mass in front of him—a solid, four-foot-high cement retaining wall. He knew this was the end.

The sudden stop flung him heavenward, propelling him in a broad arc across the night sky like the flare of a Roman candle. As he went, he thought mostly of the ground far below him, the frozen and unforgiving earth that was going to greet him by shattering his bones or snapping his neck upon landing. He prayed for the latter, less painful option.

Let it end quickly, God.

As his trajectory continued, his limbs instinctively flailing against the void, his mind went to one person: his younger sister, Anna. He hoped beyond hope that his message would get to her, that she would understand what he wanted her to do. For a guy who didn’t even own a computer, he found it vaguely ironic that the last thought that raced through his mind just before certain death was of an email. But the message he had sent her was the only chance he had, the only hope that Lydia and Isaac might still be protected. That one email was the only way his desperate efforts might save his wife and son and the unborn child Lydia was carrying.

Let it end quickly, God,
he prayed again just before impact.
And please, God, please guide Anna to the truth.