Target on the Mountain by Elizabeth Goddard (best thriller books to read .TXT) 📗

“I don’t need a doctor, but I do need to talk to the sheriff.”

“Start your car, Julie. I’ll push from the rear. Give it a little gas when I signal you, but not too much.”

She did as he asked and watched for his signal through the rearview mirror.

He stepped behind the car, placed his hands on the trunk and nodded. “Okay...now.”

Julie pushed on the accelerator. The wheels spun.

Stepping to the side, William nodded again. “Put it in Reverse and ease it back, then forward.”

Again, she followed his instructions. The car rolled back and she moved the gear to Drive. William pushed from the rear as she eased down on the accelerator. The wheels grabbed and the car broke free.

“Keep going,” he called after her. “I’ll meet you at the top of the hill.”

Near the edge of the road, she pulled to a stop and waited for him there. Before meeting with the sheriff, she wanted to check her house to ensure the hateful man hadn’t caused any damage last night. No one had known she was coming back to Mountain Loft, yet he’d been hiding in the bushes. What was he doing there, and why had he attacked her?

William hurried to the top of the hill to catch up to Julianne. She was spattered with mud, and fatigue lined her oval face, but he was drawn again to her beauty, just as he had been at the lake so long ago. Long auburn hair, jade-green eyes, arched eyebrows and an open expression that nearly took his breath away.

She leaned out the window as he approached her car. “Climb in. I want to stop at my house.”

He glanced down at his boots. “If you don’t mind a little mud.”

“My shoes are caked. We can clean up at the pump.”

He slid into the passenger seat. She exited onto the main road, drove the short distance to her farm and parked near the barn. They washed at the pump and wiped dry with a towel she had in her car.

After hanging the towel to dry, she stamped the mud from her shoes and then pointed to the shrubbery growing near the side of her house.

“The man was hiding there in the bushes last night. I—I didn’t think I’d survive.”

William searched the area she had indicated. “I don’t see that he left anything behind.”

“Except a few bruises that’ll appear in a day or two.” She rubbed her side and then turned her gaze to the farmhouse and stared at the structure for a long moment.

“I—I haven’t been back since—”

He remained silent, giving her time to control the whirlwind of confusion evidenced by the arch of her neck and her furrowed brow.

She glanced around at the farm that had been her world for the first seventeen years of life. The house, the barn and outbuildings, the pastures in the distance and the fields were all dormant.

“It looks better than I expected,” she admitted.

“I worked construction in Knoxville, and after I returned home last year, I shored up the fencing and completed some minor repairs around the place when I had free time,” he explained.

Fresh tears filled her eyes. Evidently, she hadn’t expected his help.

“Danki, William.”

The Amish thank-you seemed to surprise her as much as the tears. She had left Mountain Loft before baptism and had undoubtedly worked hard to leave her Amish roots behind.

He touched her arm and she drew back ever so slightly, then pulled herself upright. “I didn’t think coming home would be so hard.”

“Don’t go inside, Julie.” His tone was firm, even to his own ears. “It’s not necessary.”

“I can’t control the memories—” She steeled her jaw. “But facing the past in the light of day will help me heal even more.”

He shook his head. “You need more time.”

“It’s been five years.”

“A few more days won’t hurt.”

“Except I have a new life that’s waiting for me.” She stared at him, then turned to the porch and climbed the stairs.

A crow cawed and he glanced up as it soared overhead. Clouds blocked the sun and a cold wind whipped across the barnyard, tugging at Julianne’s hair. With trembling hands, she slipped the key into the lock. The door creaked open. Straightening her shoulders, she entered the cold interior.

William wiped the mud from his boots and followed her inside, noting the simple furnishings, the woodstove, the oil lamps and kitchen cupboards. The curtains blocked the light and cast the house in shadows.

With decided steps, she approached the closest window, pushed back the curtain and peered through the dusty pane. She touched the glass, then turned and swept her gaze over the main room. “A good cleaning will help. Plus, I’ll need supplies if I stay here.”

“That’s not wise after what happened last night. I have two spare guest rooms on the second floor. Both would provide for your privacy.”

“And what would the town gossips say, William? Tongues would wag. I won’t dishonor your name.”

He smiled ruefully. “It would not be the first time people talked behind my back.”

“Perhaps, but the bishop would take issue with your father and insist he control his wayward son.”

Evidently, she didn’t know. “My father died five months ago.”

“Oh, William.” She clasped her hands over her heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am, as well, but it is the way of life.”

And death, which he failed to mention. Julianne knew enough about death.

“Now both of us are orphans, yah?” he said.

“I feel more like a teenager looking for what I left behind.” She peered into the empty pantry.

His heart went out to her and he stepped closer. “Your aunt asked some of the ladies to clean the kitchen of anything perishable before she closed up the house.”

“A wise decision.” Julie tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t remember much about those first few weeks.”

“The shock undoubtedly blocked your memory.”

She touched the dusty counter and then glanced up at him. “Aunt Mary said you tried to say goodbye.”

“Yah.” He pulled in a breath, seeing the question