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ago.”
    One of the teens still looked under the hood and said, “Ruby Yoder. I don’t think she’s missing at all.”
    Roc started to ask why he thought that but another broke in with: “Heard today the Yoders gave something of Ruby’s to the English police. Some kind of test.” His voice lowered. “They’re thinking they found a body might be hers.”
    Another poked a tire with his foot. “Nah, don’t believe it. She done run off with the English boyfriend she fancied.”
    â€œYou know his name?” Roc asked.
    The first teen snapped down the hood of the Mustang. “Can’t remember it now. He ain’t from around here. But I reckon she’ll be back. Iffen he tires of her, or she tires of the English ways.”
    â€œSo you get many strangers around here?”
    â€œNot many, no,” Caleb, an extra tall boy who had a fuzzy upper lip, answered.
    â€œOccasionally though.” Adam rubbed his jaw, and his skin turned a deep shade of red. “Remember that fancy gal?”
    â€œOh ja !” Zachariah clapped a hand against his thigh. He had more freckles than Louisiana had crawfish. “I know the one you mean.”
    Luke said something in Pennsylvania Dutch, and Roc shook his head. “What?”
    Joshua let out a low, slow whistle, while James waved his hands in the air in that timeless shape that all men instinctively recognized as purely feminine.
    â€œHer car broke down over toward the cemetery one night.” Joshua crossed his arms over his chest. “Said she wanted some action.”
    Roc grinned. “Uh-huh, I bet you boys gave her some, huh?”
    Caleb shook his head. “She was into some crazy stuff.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Roc didn’t move a muscle. He imagined all sorts of sexual deviations that might curl the hair on these boys’ chests. “Like what?”
    Adam glanced over his shoulder before whispering, “Drinking blood.”
    Roc’s pulse jolted.
    Caleb backhanded Adam’s arm. “It was chicken’s blood, you imbecile.”
    Adam shrugged, his lip curling. “Don’t matter. Blood’s blood.”
    â€œThere are those that believe in the power of blood,” Joshua whispered, sliding into the passenger seat.
    Adam’s face looked paler. “Still, it wasn’t right.”
    â€œWould you recognize this woman again?” Roc asked, casually eyeing his thumb.
    The boys nodded and gave their usual, “ Ja. ”
    â€œGood.” Roc made it sound like “ goot ” as in their dialect, which tugged a few smiles from them as he slid behind the steering wheel and punched the gas.
    Music pulsed around them, accented by the thrum of the powerful engine, pushing him on, pushing him further and faster. But it wasn’t really the music. The music only stirred up the rage and resentment inside him. He was in this peaceful, bucolic place for one purpose, which was the same reason Brody had sent him away from New Orleans. But Roc sensed he was on the right trail for something else—revenge.

Chapter Nine
    You scared of the devil?”
    Hannah wiped her hands on her apron and turned toward the customer at the bakery where she worked three days a week. “Excuse me?”
    â€œYou all here seem so scared of worldly influences, like thinking buttons are sinful and all. And I seen some of them hex signs…” The woman leaned close and her cloying scent made Hannah’s nose twitch. “I just thought, ya know, that you’re scared of the devil himself.”
    Hannah fingered the straight pin at her waist. Why didn’t these Englishers realize some of their questions jabbed harder than a pinprick? “We aren’t afraid of buttons or modern conveniences.” She went back to stacking jars of chow-chow and jams on the shelf. “We simply choose not to use them.”
    â€œWhy?” The woman’s nose was straight and