He heard her rustling around, probably putting on her reading glasses. “Okay . . . on a group chat six months ago, a doctor named Carl Weatherby mentioned a patient, a twenty-five-year-old male he’d been treating for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t schizophrenic, according to Weatherby. But during the group chats, the doctor talked about the guy’s violent tendencies, his wild mood swings, his fantasies about killing women—sinful, lustful women—those were the patient’s words, according to Weatherby.”
“I’m listening.”
“The man only showed up at Weatherby’s office a couple of times before he quit coming, but here’s the kicker: The guy’s Amish, Ethan. Or was. Left the community when he was fifteen. Weatherby figured his folks threw him out.Shunning,they call it.”
“I’ve heard of it. As I recall, the Amish live mostly in Pennsylvania.”
“Well, see, that’s the interesting part. You’ve got a couple of small Amish communities right there in Texas. One about a hundred miles southwest of Dallas, the other down near Beeville. You can Google their locations.”
He felt a familiar rush. All the pieces clicking into place, the certainty he was on the right track. “Sadie, you’re a gem.”
“Don’t forget those two tickets.”
“I haven’t forgotten. This lead pans out, I’m also buying your dinner.”
She chuckled. “Take care, Ethan. Give the lady my best.” Sadie disconnected and Ethan shoved the phone back into his jeans.
He Googled the Amish communities in Texas and found their locations. Sadie was right. The one near Beeville was over three hundred miles away, but the one out by Stephenville was a fairly easy drive. He’d head there first.
Pulling up a map on his iPhone, he bookmarked the directions, then went back to work on the Internet, digging up as much information as he could on the Amish in general and particularly those in Texas.
When he finished, he checked his watch.
He hadn’t talked to Hannah in days. His daughter would be home today instead of in preschool. Seattle time was two hours earlier, but she would be up by now. He wanted to hear her voice, hear her call him Daddy. He wanted to absorb the sweet sound of her little-girl laughter.
Taking a deep breath and praying his ex would be reasonable for a change, he punched in Ally’s number.
Val rolled out of bed, sleepy-eyed, hair mussed, body pleasantly battered and delightfully sore in places that hadn’t been sore in years. She felt wonderful.
Smiling, she walked into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Since Ethan needed to work, she left the apricot satin robe on a chair in the bedroom, grabbed the white terry and shrugged it on, then headed toward the living room for a badly needed cup of coffee.
Dressed in dark blue jeans, a burgundy T-shirt, and low-topped boots, Ethan was on his cell when she opened the door. His angry scowl and the rigid muscles across his shoulders had her pausing on the threshold. She could only hear half the conversation, but it was enough for her to know what was going on.
“I just want to talk to her, Ally. I’m her father. That isn’t asking too much.”
His ex made some reply.
“Look, this has been going on for years. You’re dating someone. Haven’t you gotten your revenge by now? I was a lousy boyfriend, okay? I would have been a lousy husband. But I’m a good father. I want the chance to be even better. What’ll it take to get you to put the past aside and go forward, for Hannah’s sake?”
Her reply made Ethan’s eyes close in frustration. He came to his feet, gripping the phone so tight Val was afraid the plastic would shatter. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? Well, I’m tired of playing, Ally. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer—again. And this time I won’t hold anything back. Unless you want your past sins spread all over the courtroom, I’d suggest you make some concessions.” Ethan hung up the phone.
Val’s heart went out to him. Clearly, he loved his little girl. So far she hadn’t seen any reason he shouldn’t be allowed to spend time with her. Val crossed the living room and slid her arms around his waist. Ethan pulled her close and pressed his face into the tangled curls at the side of her neck.
“That was Allison,” he said when he looked at her.
“I know. I’m sorry, Ethan.”
He pulled out of her arms and walked over to the window. The cloudless blue sky outside wouldn’t do a thing to dull the heat.
“Ally was spoiled when I met her,” he said. “Used to having everything her way. Her dad’s loaded; the whole family’s rich. I couldn’t see past those gorgeous auburn curls and that sexy little body. I was a fool. Now Hannah is paying the price.” When he turned, his eyes were hard. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
It was a warning. He wouldn’t allow himself to be sucked into another painful relationship. Did he really think she was like Allison Winfield?
The thought cut deep.
She met his dark-eyed stare. “I get it, Ethan. I get that you don’t trust women. That you don’t trust me. I need to know . . . last night? Was I just a conquest? A notch on your bedpost? Because the way you make love tells me you’ve known a lot of women. Was I just one more?”
Something wild and unsettling moved over his features. He was in front of her in a few long strides, pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly against him.
