Dark Hollow Road (A Possum Gap Novel Book 2) Read online

  © 2022 Karen Ann Hopkins

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9798815181946 (paperback)

  Books by Karen Ann Hopkins

  Serenity’s Plain Secrets

  in reading order

  LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER

  WHISPERS FROM THE DEAD

  SECRETS IN THE GRAVE

  HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

  PAPER ROSES

  FORBIDDEN WAYS (a romantic companion novel)

  EVIL IN MY TOWN

  UNHOLY GROUND

  SWEET REGRETS (a romantic companion novel)

  BLOODY TIES

  THE WIDOW

  WICKED LEGACY

  BLOOD ROCK

  THE OFFERING

  SERENITY

  NIGHT SONG (coming in winter 2023)

  Wings of War

  in reading order

  EMBERS

  GAIA

  TEMPEST

  ETERNITY

  The Temptation Novels

  in reading order

  TEMPTATION

  BELONGING

  FOREVER

  DECEPTION

  Willow Creek/One Kiss Is All It Takes (in partnership with HarperCollins/One More Chapter)

  The Fortuna Coin

  The Possum Gap Novels

  The series has future ties to Blood Rock and Serenity’s Plain Secrets.

  FREE FROM SIN

  DARK HOLLOW ROAD

  NIGHT SONG

  In Night Song, Sheriff Serenity Adams teams up with Sheriff Mills to solve their most chilling case yet.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to Heather and Katie for editing and proofreading this installment.

  Appreciation to Melissa from The Illustrated Author Design Service for this gorgeous cover. I think it’s my favorite cover art yet!

  EbookPbook provided the formatting of this book.

  When I’m not writing, I’m rescuing dogs and cats from crowded shelters and lonely roadsides. We’re experiencing a crisis of unwanted pets across the United States and rescue organizations are stressed to the max. The best remedy is to spay and neuter your pets. Also, please adopt, don’t shop.

  Heartfelt thanks to all my rescue partners, especially, Pat Henry of Love of Paws, Sonja Felix of Sophie’s Rescue, Dianne Snater of Almost Home Rescue, Joan Taylor of Imminent Danger German Shepherds, Coly Kastner of Coly’s Cat Rescue, PAWS Across Pittsburg, Diandra Elizabeth Rescuer, and Katie at Purebred Rescue Organization of Ohio

  And a special shoutout to my animal-rescue friends closer to home: Beth Maegly, Rebecca Cartmell, Jennifer Taylor, Cassy Raabe, Bridgett Elliott Satkowski, Robbin Snapp, Tammy Madison, Aletha Thomas, and our fabulous donor who wishes to remain anonymous

  I appreciate everyone’s daily sacrifices to save animals and I’m proud to call you, my friends.

  1

  Lucinda

  A gust of wind rattled the maple tree, spraying burnt orange across the yard and pelting the side of the farmhouse. The air was still and warm, but dark clouds on the horizon promised cooler temperatures and rain.

  “Well, it’s about time autumn arrives,” Martha said. “I, for one, am ready for chilly days.”

  I took a sip of coffee, then looked over the rim of my mug, holding in a smile. At forty-five, Martha Mast was nearly fifteen years older than me, but I still considered her my closest friend. She was more opinionated and louder than the other women in the community, and she didn’t much care what the others thought. Being a widow and having married off the last of her four children at the beginning of summer, she had a lot of spare time on her hands to sit on my porch swing and keep me from my chores.

  “Autumn is my favorite time of the year, although, I am not a fan of raking leaves.” Martha’s rosy round cheeks puffed out with her scowl, making me laugh.

  Then, the gulp of my coffee went down the wrong pipe and I began coughing.

  “Do you need my assistance?” Martha set her cup down on the floorboards and started to rise.

  I held up my hand and managed to say between gags, “No, no…I’m fine.” A moment later, I had recovered and could talk normally. “Martha, you do this every turn of the season.” Martha’s brows lifted and I added, “Welcome the warmer temperatures or colder ones, then immediately complain about it.”

  Martha made a huffing noise. “It was an exceptionally humid summer, I think. Wouldn’t it be nice to have days pleasant days like this without the constant wind or falling leaves?”

  I shrugged, then carefully sipped my coffee. “There’s always good with the bad. The Lord never sends us weather we cannot withstand.”

  We fell into silence and the wind lessened to a stiff breeze. The horses grazed in the nearest field beside the road and where James had already plowed under half of the garden. There were still a couple baskets worth of late-growing tomatoes that I should be picking right now. Only then I could begin canning them, but it would have to wait until morning since my limbs were tired and my mind was restless. No matter how many times I’d thought about rising from the rocking chair to shoo Martha on her way, I couldn’t find the gumption to stand up. Phoebe was still napping and Martha didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. Josh and Sarah wouldn’t be home from school for several hours.

  I surveyed the jagged hills in the distance and sniffed the air. The signs were all there. The trees were awash in splendid colors and when I inhaled, the earthy scent of damp earth and decaying leaves flooded my nose. We were only a few days into October, and I already dreaded the fast-approaching snow and ice of winter.

  “Bah.” Martha swatted the air with her hand before using it to smooth a few loose strands of chestnut hair back into her cap. “I appreciate the Lord’s choices, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show my displeasure at times.” She winked and her mood suddenly lightened. “Will you and James be going to this year’s Apple Festival in Possum Gap?” Before I had a chance to answer, she rambled on, “I’ll ride along with you all if you don’t mind. We can share the cost of a driver.”

  The idea of hiring a driver for the eight-mile trip into the English town was pleasing. It would be more comfortable than the buggy. The traffic and crowds always made me fear for our horse, Goliath. There would be plenty of room to stow packages if we purchased any of the arts or crafts that were for sale in the booths that lined Main Street as well.

  I tilted my head, returning my gaze to the tomato plants with their abundance of late season fruit, feeling guilty. Still, I couldn’t manage to rise. “I’ll speak with James. He’s been stingy with trip money lately, but he may make an exception because of all the trouble it is to find a place to park the buggy during festival days.”

  Martha puckered her lips and nodded. I could tell that something else was on her mind.

  My friend finally let her thoughts flow freely. “How are the children and James doing, Lucinda? It’s been nearly six weeks since that horrible girl came into the community with her devious and violent heart.”

  An image of Charlie Baker sprang to life in my mind and lingered there for a few long seconds. Her enormous, widely spaced eyes held a faraway look in them. At the tragic moment Sheriff Sadie Mills pulled the trigger and the sound of gun blasts exploded inside my ears, I knew the teenager wasn’t spiritually with us anymore. Charlie was somewhere far, far away, and she was smiling. Her sins were grievous—she’d killed her mother, stepfather, younger sister, and even Vivian Hershberger—but I still prayed for her brittle soul each night when I closed my eyes. I wouldn’t dare let James or even Martha know that I did such a thing. Charlie had kidnapped my very own children and even tried to kill James. Thank the Lord, they all survived the evil power that had taken hold of that girl.

  Charlie still terrorized my dreams, but not in the way you might think. She came to me at night riding a large black horse that looked like our Goliath. She was still rail-thin, but her straight brown locks shined in the sun. Daisies poked out from her hair, tucked behind her ears. She’d turn to me and the corners of her mouth would lift high. Then the horse would whirl around and gallop away, disappearing into the tall grass.

  I wanted to ask her so many questions, but she’d be gone before I got the chance. Was my mind playing tricks on me or was it something else—a vision of sorts? I shouldn’t have been so stubborn when the sheriff tried to arrange a therapist to visit the farm. We could have all used some worldly guidance during the dark days that followed Vivian’s murder—especially me.

  I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the urge to discuss the matter with Martha for the first time. “Children are resilient. Sarah’s nightmares have ended, and Josh never speaks of the girl. Phoebe was the most unaffected, it seems. Their routines have returned to normal.”

  Rubbing a wad of blue material from my dress between my fingertips, I caught Martha’s sympathetic gaze and glanced away. I didn’t want her to see my eyes water. I was too emotional and angry with myself for how easily tears flowed these days.

  “And James?” Martha asked in a coaxing voice.

  “He acts the same as always, but I notice he’s much more vigilant about the children’s whereabouts. He isn’t so carefree about things as he used to be.”

  “I’d say.” Martha let ou
t a long sigh and one of the horses whinnied.

  When I cocked my head, I heard a horse’s hooves striking pavement in the distance.

  “And you? Lucinda, how do you fair?”

  I swallowed the hard knot down my throat and my mouth went dry. I forced my mouth to open and then the words tumbled out. “Some days are better than others. I can’t help but wonder at the Lord’s purpose for dropping Charlie Baker into our lives to wreak havoc upon us, but it’s not my place to question His intentions.”

  I couldn’t look Martha in the eye, fearing she’d see how my faith waivered.

  Martha snorted. “We can do our best to stay the course and act wisely, but there’s nothing to be done about the corruption of others. Unfortunately, those individuals can easily taint our lives. No matter the outcome, if we cherish our Lord and follow His word, we are saved. Vivian’s death is shocking for sure, and she left this world in such a brutal way, but never fear that she’s in a perfect place.”

  Anger swelled in my heart, and I finally turned to Martha. “Do you think Samuel and Louisa Hershberger feel the same way about their only daughter?” I hardened my tone. “Louisa walks around with a vacant look in her eyes and James says that poor Samuel rarely speaks anymore.” When I saw Martha’s cheeks redden, I plowed on. “No matter how hard I pray about it, peace evades my heart. I cannot understand why Vivian had to die the way she did and that her killer was a ragged and abused girl. It makes no sense!”

  Martha leaned back and continued pushing the swing back and forth with her feet. The squeaking of the chains soothed my nerves. I closed my eyes and tilted my face to the sunshine and breathed in the sweet smell on the breeze. If I tried hard enough, I could push thoughts of Charlie and Vivian out of my mind for a moment or two. But I didn’t try very often. It was my cross to bear.

  “There is no way to make sense of such things. They are from the depths of hell—”

  “Then hell has come to this place. Whatever tormented Charlie did not die with her. I fear it’s still here.”

  Martha made a tsk, tsk sound. “Don’t speak of such things, Lucinda. You are still carrying the shock of it all—”

  “It’s all my fault!” I began to shake all over and buried my face in my hands.

  I knew Martha had left the porch swing in a hurry when her palms were immediately pressing into my shoulders. “Now, now, dear friend. That’s nonsense. You helped a girl in need, that is all. I would have done the very same thing if faced with the same choice.”

  As emotions rocked my body, I looked up with wet eyes. After sniffing and wiping my nose while Martha rubbed my back vigorously, I could finally speak properly. “Are you saying the truth, Martha? Or just trying to make me feel better?”

  Martha straightened up and placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I can do both at the same time?” When I nodded slowly, she continued, “The way I see it, everything you did was with good intentions.”

  Another sob rolled through me as I swallowed down burning juices in my throat. It was strange to speak of things that I’d held inside for weeks, not even sharing with my sweet husband. “Louisa won’t even look at me. I doubt she’ll ever forgive me for harboring the girl who killed her daughter. And I can hardly blame her.”

  “It is only the Lord’s forgiveness that you should be concerned with, and I am sure you have it.” Martha returned to the swing and plopped down, suddenly looking tired. She began pumping her feet and the chain squeaked again. “I’m sure Louisa and Samuel don’t blame you. They’re consumed with grief, and it will be a long while before their hearts mend enough to interact with you normally. When they see you, they’re reminded of what happened to Vivian. It’s a natural response.” Her voice became sterner. “No good comes from fretting over something which is out of your control.” She grunted loudly. “My oldest brother, Aaron, used to say the phrase all the time. As I’ve grown older, I believe he was right.”

  After dabbing at the corners of my eyes a few more times, I leaned back in the rocker and exhaled. The heavy feeling in my heart hadn’t left but talking to Martha had lightened my spirit a bit. The breeze on my cheeks was pleasant and the hills, awash in autumn’s splendor, were quite beautiful. Phoebe was still sleeping, and I had some quiet time with my friend. I would embrace the moment and hopefully it eased my troubled mind.

  “You rarely speak of that particular brother, and I can’t recall him visiting Possum Gap before,” I said. The change of subject was just a distraction to help collect myself.

  “Ack.” Martha swatted the air in her usual manner when she became annoyed. “The age distance between Aaron and myself is great, as he was the first child and I the last. He moved away from the community in Ohio where we were both born long before I came about. Still, he’s a memorable character, that’s for sure.”

  “Where is he now?” I asked out of politeness.

  “Indiana—in a settlement called Blood Rock. He’s the bishop there,” Martha said in a flat voice.

  My interest piqued. “Isn’t that the community where all the drama has been?”

  “If you call kidnappings and murder, among other terrible things, drama, I guess it is.”

  “James grew up in Poplar Springs, Indiana. Have you heard of it?”

  “Several of my cousins live there. I believe it’s a good haul north of Blood Rock,” Martha said, still pumping her legs to keep the swing moving.

  “Yes, that’s where I heard about Blood Rock. We haven’t visited in a while, but James’ family said a lady sheriff assisted one of the local families when barns were being lit on fire. A woman’s body was even found in one of them—an outsider. I don’t recall all the details, but I do remember the sheriff who helped solve the case came from Blood Rock.”

  Martha snorted, then chuckled. “My oh my. Another female sheriff? I wonder why a woman would want to do a dangerous job like that?”

  I thought about Possum Gap’s sheriff, Sadie Mills. Never having met the woman until Vivian’s body was discovered in the shed, I was impressed by her courageous heart.

  “In the outside world, a woman can do anything she wants. It certainly wouldn’t be a dull job.” I drank the last bit of coffee and finally stood up. Those tomatoes weren’t going to get picked and canned by themselves. “Thank you, Martha, for the advice.” I let out a jagged breath which I wish had been smooth. “I’ll try my best to forget the disturbing events of last summer.”

  Martha rose with me. “That’s not exactly what I meant—”

  I stepped up to the porch railing, interrupting Martha. “Look, someone turned into the driveway.”

  Martha joined me, resting her hands on the rail. “By the looks of the horse, I’d say it’s Susan.”

  Quite right. The bay horse trotting up the driveway had a wide blaze down it’s forehead and a thick, long black mane. When the slender hand waved out the window, I knew it was Susan Miller, Bishop Zeke’s wife.

  Martha lowered her voice, leaning close to my ear. “Now, there’s a resilient woman. She acts like nothing at all happened.” Martha grunted, catching my eye. “After the relationship between her son Marvin, and that girl Charlie, your behavior is reasonable. Hers is not.”

  Leave it to Martha to say exactly what I was thinking.

  The buggy came to a stop in front of the hitching rail. I quickly straightened my cap, smoothed down the front of my dress and jogged down the steps to grasp the horse’s head.

  After engaging the brake, Susan jumped out of the buggy. Instead of smiling my way, her round face sagged which was uncharacteristic for the auburn-haired woman.

  “Is your youngest napping?” Susan asked without a greeting.

  I tied her horse to the post and answered without looking back. “She’s been down for over an hour. I have the window cracked to her bedroom window just above our heads. When she wakes, I’ll know it.”

  “A good day for you indeed,” Martha said.

  She must have just noticed Martha leaning over the porch railing. “Oh, hello, Martha. Fine day it is.”

  “A little windy to suit my taste.” She made another rude snorting noise. “And if you ignore the dark clouds looming on the horizon.”