now it all fell to him.
The sight of the woman waiting outside shook him out of his pained memories, thankfully rattled him out of his self-pity.
She stood in a shaft of sunlight. And the first thing that struck him was the way that golden light struck her hair, firing it to a luscious blend of colors that matched the fiery fall turning of the leaves. Those leaves were gone now, this first week of November, but her hair brought him the same feeling of wonder at nature’s rightness. And the thick richness of it nearly took his breath away. He stopped dead in his tracks.
This was peculiar. Why would her hair affect him like this? It was so unlike Annie’s. Her hair had gleamed like a raven’s feathers. Of course, he never saw it out in the sunlight like this. She had, as a proper Amish woman, always worn her covering in public. A woman’s uncovered hair was for her husband’s eyes only, behind closed doors, where such lust-invoking sights belonged.
But for an instant, as he stared at the red, gold and russet, he wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, see if it felt as warm as it looked.
He yanked his gaze away, angry at himself yet again.
This is why the covering is a good thing, he lectured himself. And slapped his own hat belatedly on his head.
He realized it was the worry about Hannah that had him off balance. Normally such improper thoughts would have never entered his mind. It had to be that subconsciously he was thinking of his sister’s pure red hair, comparing it to this mixture of brown and red and gold that seemed somehow warmer to him. More earthy, as if she were connected to the land, unlike Hannah, whose temperament had always made him fear they would lose her to the outside world.
And now, they had. But not by her choice. The grim reality bit deeply, and he forced himself to focus.
He must have been acting very strangely, for the woman was staring at him. His stomach flipped oddly at the thought that she might have realized his thoughts at the sight of her hair in the sun were not those of a properly raised and trained Amish man. And he could not blame her, not really. For an Englishwoman she was actually very conservatively dressed. Even that hair was, if not under a prayer covering, at least pulled back into a severe style that was less blatant than most. Not that it seemed to lessen the effect, since his second thought after the striking color had been what it would look like down around her shoulders.
But he noticed also that she wore no jewelry, no necklace, no earrings, no rings. He wondered suddenly if she had dressed so, fixed herself so, out of some idea of respecting their traditions or if she was always this unadorned.
And if the absence of a wedding ring, in the English manner, meant she was unattached. Not that it was any of his business. Telling himself firmly the manners and dress of an outsider mattered less than nothing, he walked toward the woman.
“Mr. Troyer?”
Her voice was low, almost husky, and for a moment that quashed reaction threatened anew. For she was closer now, and her eyes were a vivid meadow-green unlike any eyes he’d seen before. That green, plus the reds, golds and browns of her hair … She seemed like some woodland creature, a creature of the earth, the land, who—
He jammed his left hand into his pocket, curling his fingers into a fist, letting his fingernails dig into his flesh. He welcomed the pain; he was obviously out of control with worry, and he needed to focus.
“I am Caleb Troyer,” he said formally.
“I’m Emma Colton, with the FBI.”
Her voice was brisk as she held up a leather folder with identification. From what he could see from the photograph, she dressed like this regularly. Her hair was even more severely styled, pulled into a knot on her head, tidy except for a few rebellious strands. So she did not use that amazing hair to draw attention to herself. If anything, she seemed to be trying to avoid any acknowledgment that she was female.
Wondering why his usual stern control of his thoughts had deserted him, Caleb tried again.
“You are here about Hannah.”
“Yes, sir. I’m from a field office in Ohio, where, unfortunately, there have been similar cases of Amish girls gone missing.”
He nodded. “I was told by the detective from Philadelphia.” His dark brows furrowed. “His name is also Colton.”
“Tate is my brother.”
Caleb’s brows rose. “He did not mention that. But you are with the FBI, not the police.”
She answered the implicit question with a shrug. “He asked me to come.”
“And so you did?”
“Of course.”
He liked her answer. Then, his head tilted slightly, he asked, “Then you are Dr. Colton’s sister?”
Dr. Derek Colton, whose office was just down the street from the store that sold much of Caleb’s handcrafted furniture, was well-known in the Amish community. He was more than generous with his time and care, and seemed to take a special interest in seeing his Amish neighbors stay healthy. He was a good, solid man, and of all the English Caleb dealt with, he thought Derek Colton the most reliable and trustworthy.
“Yes, Derek’s my brother,” she said. “And before you ask, yes, I’m adopted, too. We all are. All six of us.”
She declared it proudly, her love for her family clear in her voice. He liked that.
“I was not going to ask,” he said. “Dr. Colton has told me about his family.”
He hadn’t named them all, however. He’d spoken mostly about their parents and how they all still grieved their loss. He’d found Dr. Colton an honorable and admirable man, but he hadn’t made any assumptions about his siblings. He himself was too different from his sister, Hannah, to fall prey to that faulty thinking.
“I didn’t come here to talk about my family,” she said rather briskly. Indeed, almost sharply, in a sharp, businesslike tone he’d rarely heard from an Amish woman.
“But it is your family, in particular your brother, who has paved your road with his goodwill. If you get cooperation from this community, much of it will be because of him.”
“If?” The woman gaped at him. “I’m here to try to find your sister.”
“I know this. But don’t assume this will automatically ensure trust from all of us.”
He was antagonizing her. Purposely.
Caleb realized it with a little jolt. While it was difficult for anyone in the community to turn to outsiders for help, they had all reluctantly agreed this was beyond their scope. Implicit in that was that they would cooperate; they had all agreed with that once the decision had been made.
Including, in fact especially, he himself.
“Then I will find these girls without your help,” she said, sounding fierce.
Caleb appreciated her determination. He wanted that kind of determination in the search for Hannah. He attempted a fresh start.
“It
