Lamb to the Slaughter
Karen Ann Hopkins
PRAISE FOR LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER
“A well-crafted tale of murder begotten by the collision of two incompatible worlds.” Kirkus reviews.
“Lamb to the Slaughter was a an easy, enjoyable read that I completely enjoyed. I was over the moon excited to hear that there will be more books in this series. Serenity and Daniel will solve cases involving Amish communities throughout the Midwest!” Caffeinated Book Reviewer
“I would highly, highly recommend this one…From the mystery, the characters, and the writing this is a fantastic book! I cannot wait for book two!” Lose Time Reading
“From the prologue to the last chapters, Lamb to the Slaughter had me instantly hooked. Ms. Hopkins is a master at pacing and setting up her stories in a way that has readers connected to both the characters and the story line.” Love-Life-Read
“This book had it all!! Murder, mystery, forbidden romance and left you needing to read the next book in the series ASAP!! Loved this book!” Curling Up With A Good Book
“Karen Ann Hopkins has delivered with Lamb to the Slaughter. I love the uniqueness Karen Ann Hopkins brings to the mystery genre, and I will DEFIANTLY be reading more from her in the future.” Unabridged Bookshelf
“The characters are complex and dimensional, whether they have a large or smaller part to play in this story, and it really added such a richness that I enjoyed.” Bewitched Bookworms Reviews
“Lamb to the Slaughter is a must read for fans of mystery novels. Karen Ann Hopkins made me a fan with her YA Temptation series, and she’s made me an even bigger fan with this murder mystery.” Actin Up With Books
“An intriguing tale full of mystery and suspense....LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER had me thinking and rethinking the entire time.” I Read Indie!
“I’m so glad that this is going to be a series; because it’s one of the greatest murder mysteries that I’ve read in a long time.” Little Miss Drama Queen
“Simply put Karen Ann Hopkins, takes her readers to a new level of Amish fiction and suspense.”
Deitre Helvey Owens at Once Upon a Twilight
“Lamb to the Slaughter will keep you at the edge of your seat. Don’t miss this nail biting experience!” Her Book Thoughts
“Lamb to the Slaughter is a stunningly suspenseful read that will have you flipping pages long after bedtime. You won’t want to miss it!” Bittersweet Enchantment
Books by Karen Ann Hopkins
Serenity’s Plain Secrets
in reading order
LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER
WHISPERS FROM THE DEAD
Wings of War
in reading order
EMBERS
GAIA
The Temptation Novels
in reading order
TEMPTATION
BELONGING
FOREVER
RACHEL’S DECEPTION (Crossroads)
LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER
Karen Ann Hopkins
Copyright © 2015 Karen Ann Hopkins
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1506157203
ISBN 13: 9781506157207
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900901
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, South Carolina
For my children, Luke, Cole, Lily, Owen and Cora.
And my best friend, Jay.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Even though I published this one on my own, there were still a lot of people influential in bringing the project to life. Without help from the following, Lamb to the Slaughter wouldn’t be available to the public.
A big thank you to Christina Hogrebe for asking me to write an Amish mystery.
Much appreciation to Carey Hardin Gleckler for helping with the social media. You’re the best!
I was thrilled to have Grace Bradford, a former horse-back riding student of mine, babysitter to my children and close friend, bring her editing skills to the table. Many thanks for your detailed analysis and all the time you put into Lamb. Hang in there, your time will come.
A standing ovation goes out to Kendra Haynes, another one of my alumni riding students and ‘adopted’ little sister, for building my amazing Website. I can always count on you to be creative and clever!
Thank you, Jenny Zemanek and Seedlings Design Studio for the awesome cover! You got the combination of Amish and creepy just right.
Thanks to my mother, Marilyn Lanzalaco, for reading Lamb twice! You’re my biggest fan and toughest critic all rolled into one and I love you for it.
A bone crushing hug for my teenage daughter, Lily, and her mad photo cropping and collaging skills! The posters you’ve painstakingly created are wonderful.
And a collective shout out to the following people for helping with the daily chores, providing shelter from the storm and for just plain being there: Luke, Cole, Owen, Cora, Dad, Anthony, Opal and Sue & Joe Detzel.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
PROLOGUE
NAOMI
Hugging myself, I tried to stop shaking. I’d burned my last bridge. Forward was the only way to go.
The dim light was nearly gone when I finally forced my muscles into action and headed in the direction of the road again. The darkness caused my heart to race as I sped up. Usually, I loved when night arrived. It gave me the opportunity to hide from the others—but not tonight. The unexpected encounter had pumped adrenaline through my veins, making me ever more fearful.
I urged my legs faster, until my breaths came out in short, quick gasps. I alternated between jogging, walking and stumbling, all the while listening for sounds of another ambush. The countryside was quiet now. The wind that had been beating the corn stalks together only minutes before had died down to a soft breeze.
I reckoned that I wasn’t too far from the road, but I wasn’t sure. The last time I came this way was about four years ago when I was fourteen and turkey hunting with Dat and my brother, Samuel. It had been springtime and the corn had been only seeds in the ground then. The stalks were well past the top of my head now, turning the cornfield into an impossible maze.
The plants were the same as everybody else in my life. They were toying with me, purposely making my escape from Blood Rock even more difficult. I was glad to leave them behind—along with the people.
I paused in my tracks to listen again. With the toe of my shoe still pressed into the mud, I was ready to lurch forward in an instant if need be. Taking a calming breath, I focused on the dark shapes of the treetops jutting above the corn. The hedgerow wasn’t that far off. The best thing to do was to leave the cover of the cornfield and follow the edge of the wood, I decided.
&n
bsp; A sort of excited panic ran through me at the realization that I was almost free. With renewed energy, I swatted the razor sharp leaves aside, ignoring the bloody little scratches they were tearing into my arms and hands. With chin raised, I fixed my sight high on the shadowy tree line and sprinted, closing the distance quickly. With only a few more rows to go and the glorious tangle of bushes and trees in view through the gaps in the corn, I murmured, “Thank you, Jesus.”
The sound hit my ears less than a second before an invisible force slammed into my belly, knocking me backwards. When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the ground. Pieces of stalks jabbed into my back painfully. I tried to rise, but the tightness in my stomach wouldn’t let me. Dragging my hand from my side, I felt around until I touched warm wetness.
Blood.
A reddish-gold harvest moon was rising above the tree line and I stared at its blazing colors, wondering at my ill luck. Maybe I was being punished for running away and for all my other sins. The possibility filled me with fear and I tried to ask the Lord for forgiveness, but the only sound that came out from between my chapped lips was a ragged breath.
I lay motionless in the whispering chill. There was the smell of damp leaves and moss in the air, and the night breeze scratched the dry corn stalks against each other noisily. And then there was a more sinister, unidentifiable sound from further away—the sound of something large moving.
I turned my head slowly, peering into the darkness when a shadow appeared. It leaned over me, framed by the light of the fiery moon. I blinked, confused. Was it an angel?
I strained to see, but blackness was peppering my vision quickly. My head felt heavy and sleepiness pressed my eyes closed. I was so tired.
The soft, warm breath on my face reminded me that I wasn’t alone and for an instant I was afraid. But then my mind drifted and I thought of Will.
How long would he wait for me?
…and then there was only darkness.
1
SERENITY
November 6th
I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back at the green combine. The swath of mowed corn in its wake ended abruptly where the body had been found. I shivered, imagining what the crime scene would have looked like if the farmer hadn’t seen the girl before he crossed over these rows.
The warm air of the Indian summer would have been a treat if I wasn’t standing in the blazing sun, sweat beading on the back of my neck, and smelling the rank odor of decaying flesh. Swallowing hard, I took shallow breaths and turned to look at the balding and arthritic Bobby Humphrey, as he bent down over the girl.
The words, are you fucking kidding me, kept repeating in my head. I’d left my Indianapolis job for my home territory to get away from this kind of senseless violence. And here I was, just a month on the job, with a suspicious death on my hands.
The bright sunlight through the corn leaves disappeared for a moment to be replaced with a dull illumination from the street light. I didn’t want to remember the scene, but I had no choice. The memory had been my constant companion for the past two years, coming several times a day like clockwork. The overpaid therapist had been dead wrong. The shock of some things couldn’t be softened with time.
I thought back to another time, even though I didn’t want to, and I was suddenly far away, standing in the center of the vacant city street.
Dim light from the lamp overhead sprayed down on the scene and the smell of the wet pavement filled my nostrils. My heart pounded furiously in my chest as I watched the gloved hand slip into the opening of the oversized coat with the Colt’s logo in the upper left hand corner.
“Raise your hands! Raise your fucking hands!” I shouted.
My voice pounded in my ears, matching the beating of my heart. The gun was steady in my hand when my body suddenly became deadly calm. Refusing to obey me, the person’s hands went deeper into the coat, pulling something shiny out. The body tilted toward my partner, Ryan, just before I pulled the trigger.
The blast of the gunshot blurred with Bobby’s awkward cough, pulling me back to the present.
I hoped the coroner didn’t notice my shiver when I said, “Can you tell me what she was hit with, Bobby?” I knelt beside him, gazing at the girl’s face, which was still beautiful, even with its ghostly grey shade. I knew the side of her face touching the ground was a different story though.
“Can’t say for sure until I get her into the examination room,” Bobby swiveled to look at me, removing his glasses, “but from the quarter inch hole I can see in her coat, I’d place a bet right now that it was a slug from a twelve gauge shot gun that did her in.”
Before I had a chance to say a thing, my first deputy, Todd Roftin, who was peering over my shoulder at the body, said, “There’s a deer stand in a tree about thirty yards that way. I reckon a slug shot could have gone the distance.”
While I was digesting Todd’s words and gazing at the crude, weathered boards jutting out from the trunk of the oak tree, Bobby covered the girl with the paper thin sheet. He took his time rising into a standing position.
Once the old man was up, he said, “The bullet entered the stomach, but there’s no exit out the back, suggesting to me that it’s probably lodged in her spinal cord.” His eyes moved between the body and the tree stand before he added, “Don’t hold me to my words until I’ve given you a report, Ms. Adams, but after examining the body in these crude conditions, I would say that the trajectory from the stand appears to be the most likely shot.”
I narrowed my eyes, staring at Bobby, a man I’d known since I was a kid. We’d attended the same church when I was still in pig tails. In those days, his wife, Mary, used to pass a steady supply of peppermints down the row to me, keeping me occupied during the long, boring sermons.
Now, the man was addressing me as if I was a stranger—and after I’d already corrected him twice that morning. Was he purposely giving me a hard time or was he going senile? I didn’t want to be completely paranoid. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, deciding that old age was probably the culprit.
“Bobby, you can call me Serenity…remember, like you’ve done my entire life. My new job as the sheriff in Blood Rock hasn’t changed how I want to be addressed by my friends.”
Bobby cleared his throat in acknowledgment while Todd shifted nervously on his feet. I wished everyone would get over the weirdness of me being the boss and get back to business.
Ignoring the men’s discomfort, I turned to Todd and asked, “So you think it might be a hunting accident?”
“The stand hasn’t been used much in years, but there were enough disturbances in the brush at the base that I’d say the most probable scenario is that a redneck had been sitting in that rotted stand all day. He was probably poaching for deer, when he heard the rustling of the girl coming out of the corn,” Here Todd brought his arm up as if he were shooting off an invisible, long-barreled gun and aimed at the girl on the ground, “…and bam, shot her midsection. With a shotgun, she hit the ground instantly. The fellow clamored down to see the deer he thought he’d nabbed. Discovering that it was a little Amish girl, he high-tailed it out of here in a hurry.”
Even with his disgusting theatrics, I had to admit, it was a good hypotheses. Still, there were so many questions to be answered, like what the hell was an Amish girl doing at the edge of a remote cornfield anyway?
“Bobby, you said earlier that you believed she’d been lying here for several days. Do you still maintain that time period?”
Bobby scratched his head and frowned at the body. “I’m thinking more like two weeks. We had that colder weather back the third week of October, you know. This body hasn’t undergone as much decay as it would have if it’d been this warm straight through. The way the girl was bundled up leads me to believe that she was out here during that cold snap.”
“It’s surprising that she isn’t more chewed on than she is, with all the critters that must surely prowl around here at night,” Todd said, scratching his chin and looking arou
nd.
Bobby had a pensive frown fixed on his face again when I said, “Maybe with the abundance of corn available, the smaller scavengers weren’t interested. With turkey season in full swing, there are a lot of hunters wandering about. Most of the larger predators are probably being cautious…”
The roar of the department’s SUV as it approached and parked behind the combine brought all our heads up. The black hats and beards emerging from the passenger seats of the vehicle caused my heart to skip.
This was the part I dreaded the most. Again, my thoughts strayed to another place.
The bright lighting in the mortuary hurt my eyes as I watched the pale faces of the man and woman while the body was rolled out of the cooler, stopping in front of them. The woman’s dark brown hair was in a ponytail and as she crumpled onto the body. Her hair bounced with her sobs.
I stood in the corner beside my partner, fixated on the thick length of locks rocking on the side of her head. She was younger than I thought she’d be…
Shaking the image from my mind, I left Bobby and Todd, walking over to Officer Jeremy Dickens and the three Amish men. I was silently relieved that Jeremy kept the men close to the vehicle and out of sight of the body. I’d have to commend young Jeremy on his forethought and consideration. This was, after all, the first human shooting incident he’d dealt with as an officer in the sleepy little agricultural community of Blood Rock, Indiana. Hell, if my memory served right, it was the first death under unusual circumstances since John Hinton shot his wife and then did himself in. That incident had occurred almost a decade ago when I was entering the police academy in Indianapolis.
One of the Amish men had a near white beard and the direct look of the leader of the group. I’d been meaning to read up on Amish authority since a large community of Plain people resided in the northern region of my territory. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had time.
Taking a gamble, I focused my introduction at the oldest man. “Hello, I’m Sheriff Serenity Adams.” I extended my hand. Sure enough, the snow-bearded gentleman stepped forward and grasped it warmly.
