Vanish in Plain Sight. Marta Perry

It doesn’t matter.” Her gaze evaded his.

      “If you think someone is spying on you, it does matter. What happened?” He clasped her wrist firmly, determined to get an answer, and felt her pulse against his fingers.

      She jerked her hand away. “I was awake sometime in the night. I looked out the window. A man was standing in the side yard. He seemed to be looking up at my window.”

      There were a lot of things he could say to that, including the suggestion that she’d been dreaming. Or was paranoid.

      “What makes you think he was Amish?” And are you sure someone was there?

      “The hat. The beard. The dark clothes.” Color came up in her cheeks. “I know. You think I was dreaming or imagining things. I wasn’t.”

      “Dreams can seem very real.” He ought to know. He’d dreamed that explosion in Afghanistan enough times, waking up covered in sweat, a cry strangled in his throat.

      “I wasn’t dreaming.” She rose suddenly. “Forget it. Let’s get back.”

      He stood, not sure what to say. “Maybe you ought to tell Adam about this.”

      “So he can suggest I dreamt it, too?” She started toward the car.

      He fell into step with her, still bothered. If Marisa was talking about something that really happened, that was troubling. And if she was imagining it, maybe that was even worse.

      Marisa was wrong. She had to be. This figure in the night was a product of all the upsetting news she’d had to face in the past few days. The Amish people he knew just didn’t behave that way.

      The Amish couple he’d seen earlier came out of the clinic door, their little boy skipping between them. They started toward the main walk. The man looked up, his gaze going from Link to Marisa. Then he took his wife’s arm, clasped his son’s hand and deliberately walked back the other way.