Schrock steps back, shakes himself as if waking from a nightmare. The buggy whip falls to the ground. Abruptly, he turns. I lurch back. For a horrifying instant, I think he spotted me. But his voice is level and calm as he addresses Smucker and Yoder.

“Take our brother to the house. Clean his wounds. Send him home to his wife.”

I don’t wait to hear more. Quickly, I back away, ducking to avoid being seen through the window. I glance down at my tracks. Shit. No way to cover them, and I curse my carelessness. I reach the corner of the barn, turn and run as fast as I can across the open area. Relief surges when I reach the cover of the trees. Only when I’m deeply ensconced in the shadows do I stop and look back.

Yoder and Smucker are on either side of the man, helping him toward the house. Eli Schrock stands outside the barn door, looking in my direction. There’s no way he can see me. It’s fully dark; I’m twenty yards away, tucked into the shadows of a thousand trees. Still, a chill passes through me at the sight of him.

I can just make out his face and in the instant before he turns and starts toward the house, I think I see him smile.

*   *   *

I’m breathless when I arrive back at the trailer. I’m midway up the steps, anxious to tell Suggs what I just witnessed, when I spot the note taped to the door. My first thought is that my landlord Mrs. Bowman stopped by, tried to let herself inside only to realize I’d changed the locks. I pluck the note from the door and read.

Wer visa voahret fer in busch an mitt-nacht.

If you want to know the truth, go to the woods at midnight.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Turning, I scan the area in front of the property, but there’s no one there. No fresh tracks. Someone must have put it on my door shortly after I left for Schrock’s place.…

I look down at the note. It’s a plain white piece of paper about four inches square, torn on two sides. No identifiable markings or print.

“Which woods?” I mutter.

It could be a prank—or a trap. There’s only one way to find out. Holding the note by one corner in case I need to send it to Suggs for fingerprints, I let myself in to the trailer and lock the door.

As usual, the place is cold as an icebox. Tossing the note on the kitchen table, I go to the stove and turn on a couple of burners for heat, and set the kettle on for tea. I don’t bother removing my coat as I tug the phone from my pocket and call Suggs.

He answers on the first ring. “Everything okay?”