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Vanish in Plain Sight

Vanish in Plain Sight

4.1 59
by Marta Perry

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Since she was a little girl, Marisa Angelo has been haunted by the image of her mother walking away, suitcase in hand, to return to her Amish roots.

Marisa and her "Englischer" father never saw or heard from her again. Now Marisa has received a shocking call from police. Her mother's bloodstained suitcase was found hidden inside the wall of a


Since she was a little girl, Marisa Angelo has been haunted by the image of her mother walking away, suitcase in hand, to return to her Amish roots.

Marisa and her "Englischer" father never saw or heard from her again. Now Marisa has received a shocking call from police. Her mother's bloodstained suitcase was found hidden inside the wall of a Pennsylvania Dutch farmhouse.

Desperate for answers, Marisa heads to Lancaster County. But no one—not the police or Marisa's tight-lipped Amish relatives—can explain what happened to her mother.

Only one man is as determined as Marisa to unravel the mystery—Link Morgan, the handsome ex-military loner who found the suitcase in the house he inherited from his uncle. Now both Link's and Marisa's family members are implicated in the decades-old disappearance.

The secret lies somewhere in the quaint Amish settlement. But someone will do anything to ensure the truth remains hidden forever.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Perry's realistic, nuanced second Amish romantic suspense novel answers many of the lingering questions from Murder in Plain Sight. Marisa Angelo's mother left Amish life for love of a non-Amish man, and then walked out on her husband and daughter when Marisa was five, leaving behind secrets, loneliness, and endless questions. Now an adult, Marisa is drawn back to her roots in Springville, Pa., when her mother's blood-stained suitcase is found in the wall of a house. Beset by suspicious police, close-mouthed Amish relatives, and a confounding man named Link Morgan, Marisa stumbles through the old mystery. A slow, sweet romance between Link and Marisa adds to the story's charm, and plausible concerns and motives lead to a conclusion that neatly dovetails with the events of the first book. Perry's own Pennsylvania Dutch heritage lends a pleasant verisimilitude to the details of Amish life. (June)
Library Journal
Planning to renovate his late uncle's house in Lancaster, PA, and then move on to California, engineer Link Morgan, fresh from a disastrous mission in Afghanistan, finds hidden in the walls of the old building the suitcase of a woman who disappeared 23 years earlier. For freelance illustrator Marisa Angelo, the bag just might hold the answers she's been looking for since her mother walked out of her life. Unfortunately, someone doesn't want the truth to come to light and will do anything to prevent it. Although their pasts make them wary of responsibility and relationships, Link and Marisa realize that their only hope is to work together, never thinking that it will bring them closer in other ways, as well. VERDICT Reprising a number of characters from Murder in Plain Sight, Perry skillfully continues her chilling, deceptively charming romantic suspense series with a dark, puzzling mystery that features a sweet romance and a nice sprinkling of Amish culture. Note: This is not an inspirational romance, but owing to the setting, it might appeal to those readers, as well. Perry divides her time between Pennsylvania and the South Carolina coast.

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Brotherhood of the Raven
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Link Morgan narrowed his focus to the heavy sledgehammer and the satisfying thwack it made when it broke into the old paneling.

The paneling shattered beneath Link's sledgehammer, its shoddiness a contrast to the solid double-plank construction of the rest of the old farmhouse. Setting the sledgehammer down, he pulled fragments loose with gloved hands, tossing them into a pile in front of the fireplace. The last bit of the section came free, revealing what lay behind it.

He stared, methodically wiping the sweat from his forehead. Shaking off the foreboding that gripped him, he reached into the wall and pulled out the object that lay there. A suitcase. Not empty, by the feel of it.

Carrying it to the makeshift worktable, he set down his find. An inexpensive suitcase, its fabric sides coated in dust and marred by stains. How long had it lain there, inside the wall of Uncle Allen's house? More important, why was it there?

He snapped open the latch and swung back the lid. Women's clothes, by the look of it—slacks, a skirt, several blouses. Beneath them something black. He picked it up, shook it out and recognized it. An Amish woman's black apron. His stomach twisted, rebelling the way it had in Afghanistan when they were coming upon a perfect place for an ambush.

Taking out the apron revealed what lay under it: a white Amish prayer kapp. At the very bottom was a framed photograph. He picked up the picture, bad feelings growing. A woman and a young girl, looking at each other, faces lit with laughter and love. Mother and daughter, he'd guess from the similarities in the faces. The child looked to be about four or five.

He set the picture down gently and took a step away from the table. Something was wrong here. The pair in the photo wore typical, though a little outdated, clothing. So how did that square with the Amish clothing in the suitcase? The pressure that had driven him for months urged him to ignore this, to get on with his plans. Whatever had led to this suitcase being placed inside the wall of the old house his uncle had left him, it was no concern of his.

If he hadn't opened the suitcase, maybe he could have bought that. But the contents raised too many questions. Too late now to take the easy way out. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and dialed the Spring Township police.

Ten minutes later a police car pulled into the driveway. The occupants got out and headed for the back door, as country people always did, and he walked out to the back porch to meet them. Before he had a chance to speak, his brother Trey's pickup drew to a stop behind the cruiser.

He'd called Trey right after he'd called the police, figuring he would want to know. After all, he was the one who'd been here for the past six years while Link was off at college and then in the army. Maybe he'd be able to shed some light on this, but even if he couldn't, Trey was the kind of person you turned to when there was trouble.

Besides, Trey knew everyone. Adam Byler, now the township police chief, had been friends with Link's big brother since they were kids, running around together, usually trying to brush off Link, the bratty little brother tagging after them and getting into trouble.

"Hey, Link." Adam pulled off sunglasses and started toward him, followed by another cop…Dick McCall, fiftyish, balding, with a paunch that strained his uniform shirt a bit more each year. Mac had been a township cop when Link had been soaping windows at ten.

"Sorry to call you out." Link leaned against the porch post, hoping it didn't look as if he needed its support. "It's probably nothing, but I figured you'd want a look at this."

"No problem. That's what you pay taxes for, right?" Adam punched his shoulder lightly, the tap a hint of the power that lay behind it. Adam was as solid now as he'd been in high school, with not an ounce of fat on his muscular frame. "Let's have a look."

Trey joined them, giving Link the worried look he'd been using since Link got out of the military hospital and came home to recuperate.

"What's up?" Trey's voice was so much like Dad's that it still shocked Link sometimes. "Adam said you found something inside the wall of the addition."

He jerked a nod and headed inside. "See for yourself."

The family room, stretching across the rear of the centuries-old farmhouse, seemed smaller with four men in it. They stood in an awkward circle around the opened suitcase.

Adam took the photo, setting it so they all could see. He glanced at Link. "You know who the woman is?"

Link shook his head, frowning at a vague memory that teased at the back of his mind. "The face seems a little familiar, but that's all."

"Yeah, me, too," Trey said, sounding annoyed with himself that he didn't have the answer.

Mac picked up the photo. "You three boys are too young to remember, that's all. It's Barbara Angelo, that's who it is."

"Angelo." The frown on Adam's stolid face deepened. "Wasn't there a scandal or something about her?"

"Ran off from her husband and kid, that's the way I heard it." Mac looked gratified at their attention.

"Russ Angelo, the husband, said she'd gone back to Indiana to her family, leaving the little girl with him and his mother. Barbara was Amish, see, left the church to marry him, but the marriage didn't work out." He shrugged. "It happens. Nobody questioned her leaving all that much, as I recall."

"But if her suitcase is here…" Trey let that trail off.

No point in going on. Trey was thinking what they were all thinking. If Barbara Angelo had deserted her husband and small daughter, what was her suitcase doing in the wall of Allen Morgan's house?

Adam closed the suitcase, scanning the sides with his eyes, not touching. "No ID tags. The kind of cheap bag you could pick up at any discount store."

To Link's eyes, the bag looked worn and battered, but maybe that was just the effect of being inside the paneling all these years. It was thick with dust, splattered with darker stains and a few nicks here and there.

Adam seemed to scan the stains more closely, then looked around the room. "Where was it?"

"Right here, next to the fireplace." Link showed them, concentrating on not limping as he crossed the room. Maybe that sledgehammer had been a bit much. The army said he was as well as they could make him, after what had happened in Afghanistan.

Adam squatted down, studying the area as deliberately as he did everything. "Well, it's not a crime to put a suitcase inside a wall. You two know when this work was done?"

"We were kids when Uncle Allen built the addition, that's as close as I can come," Trey said. "Mom would know exactly, though."

Adam let his gaze move around the room. "I hate to say it, but I think we'd best make sure there's nothing else inside that paneling." He shot a glance at Link. "You mind?"

"Hey, I'm tearing it off anyway. I'll take any help I can get. One thing's sure—if there is anything, it has to be in this room. The rest of the house has solid double-plank walls. Not room even for a mouse."

Let alone a human body, if that's what they were talking about.

"Well, let's have at it." Trey picked up the sledgehammer before Link could reach it. He managed a grin at Link. "You sure this isn't just a ploy to get us to do the work for you?"

"How else would I get you to do it? You're still dead set against my selling the old place, aren't you?" Link softened the question with an attempted smile, but he'd be glad if everyone would stop hovering over him.

"I just wish you'd stick around for a while, that's all," Trey said. He punctuated the words with a swing of the sledgehammer. "Seems like Morgans belong here in Lancaster County."

Trey didn't understand this drive of Link's to leave—that was clear. Link wasn't sure he understood it himself, but life had to be easier someplace where people weren't worrying about him all the time. A buddy of his was keeping a job for him in California. He had a simple plan: renovate the house, sell it, move to California and forget what had happened to his team in Afghanistan and the career he'd once thought to have in the military.

With four of them working, the job didn't take long. Soon all the old paneling lay in dusty stacks on the floor.

"Nothing." Adam summed it up, brushing off his hands. "Maybe that's what the whole thing amounts to. I guess there could be some innocent explanation for the woman's suitcase being inside the wall of your uncle's house."

"Can you think of one?" Trey challenged. Link could hear the worry in his voice. He'd be thinking about how Mom would take this.

"Not off the top of my head," Adam admitted. "But that doesn't mean there isn't one. Still, crime or no crime, I guess I'd better look into it." He shrugged.


That was aimed at both him and Trey, Link supposed. After all, it had been their uncle's house. There would be talk, speculation about the possible relationship between Allen Morgan and the Angelo woman. Adam might want to keep it quiet, but they all knew how impossible that was in a place like Spring Township.

Link picked up the photograph, looking into the big brown eyes of the little girl, feeling again that sense of something wrong he'd had the first time he looked at her face, reminding him of those other children who saw death and destruction everyday. Stronger than that—it was a sense of empathy, as if the child meant something to him.

"One thing I do know," he said. "This kid, or rather, the woman she is now—she deserves to know what happened to her mother."

Marisa Angelo felt as if she hadn't taken a breath since she left Baltimore. Cutting the car engine, she stared at the house in front of her. It stood on the fringe of the village of Springville, but still gave the illusion of privacy, hidden as it was behind a hedge of lilac bushes so high that nothing could be seen from the road.

Marisa got out slowly, pushing the strap of her bag onto her shoulder, unable to take her gaze from the house. It was probably like a hundred other farmhouses in this rural area of Pennsylvania; a two-story white frame with black wooden shutters on the windows. But instead of being surrounded by neat flowerbeds, it hid behind overgrown trees, its windows shielded by blinds so that it seemed to sleep.

A shiver slid through her. She was being morbid. She shouldn't let this experience get to her. From the moment the police chief called her, after being unable to reach her father, she'd been focused on one thing only: get here. Find out what this place had to do with the disappearance of her mother that had left a hole in her heart nothing seemed to fill. She'd packed a bag, collected the materials she needed for her current set of illustrations, and set off.

She'd been five when her mother left, six when she and her father and grandmother moved to Baltimore. This area ought to be familiar to her, but she seemed to have only fragments of memories that didn't amount to anything—an image of herself jumping rope on a sidewalk, the scary feeling of standing onstage in what must have been an elementary-school program.

They'd left, they'd never come back, she'd forgotten this place, even though her dreams were haunted by the need to know. To understand what happened.

Gradually, over the past few years, when every line of inquiry came up empty, she'd thought she was accepting the fact that she'd never know. But when the call came, it was as if she'd been waiting for it all her life.

She closed the car door and walked toward the house. Blank and shuttered, it looked deserted, but someone must be here. The police chief had said the owner was renovating the place. Seeming to understand her need to see for herself, Chief Byler had agreed to meet her here.

She had one foot on the porch step when she heard the noise—a steady series of thuds coming from the rear of the building. Maybe the renovator was still at work.

The yard behind the house proved just as secluded as the front. A stand of pines pressed close, reaching over a fieldstone wall to threaten a garage and a couple of outbuildings that tilted into each other in a dispirited manner. The source of the noise was instantly obvious.

The man, in jeans and a T-shirt, worked steadily, oblivious to her presence. Pick up a short log, set it on a stump, split it with an axe, toss it aside. His movements were smooth, efficient and almost angry in their intensity.

From the top of the stone wall, a large black cat watched with the casual indifference of its kind. He put up a lazy paw to swipe his face, his eyes never leaving the figure.

The contrast between the lean ferocity of the man and the lazy feline grace of the cat had her fingers itching. She pulled the ever-present pad and pencil from her bag, intent on capturing the scene in quick strokes. With a few changes, this might fit into the children's book she was illustrating. Even if it didn't, she couldn't resist.

The image was nearly complete when the man clutched his side with a grunt, dropping the axe. The cat vanished over the wall. She must have made some move, because the man spun and strode toward her, transferring that angry intensity from the logs to her.

"What are you doing?"

Meet the Author

Marta Perry realized she wanted to be a writer at age eight, when she read her first Nancy Drew novel. A lifetime spent in rural Pennsylvania and her own Pennsylvania Dutch roots led Marta to the books she writes now about the Amish. When she’s not writing, Marta is active in the life of her church and enjoys traveling and spending time with her three children and six beautiful grandchildren. Visit her online at www.martaperry.com.

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Vanish in Plain Sight 4.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 59 reviews.
tcjunkcollector More than 1 year ago
Skipped pages upon pages and never missed a thing. The author rambled on to make this a 230 + page book. I had to force myself to keep reading!!!
LASR_Reviews More than 1 year ago
Some books are so good you find yourself recommending them as you're reading them. Vanish in Plain Sight is like that. Marta Perry caught me with the blurb and held on tight through the entire book with characters so well rounded I'd swear they were real. Even minor characters with walk on roles were clearly people rather than cutouts. The Amish community is a character with a personality, and many of the characters were members of that community. There isn't an Amish community where I live, so I've never had experience with them outside of books. Their solid, conservative, communit-minded, faith-filled view of life was refreshing. Marisa's lack of familiarity with the culture made learning about the Amish easy for the reader. Marta Perry has a knack for organic writing. Information flows naturally. The plot develops logically. The reader learns about the Amish culture and follows the clues effortlessly. Stereotypes were explored and explained so organically, so naturally, that it wasn't until I was about to write this review that I realized how much I'd learned. The mystery is fascinatingly revealed one piece at a time so it feels as if the reader and the characters discover things together. Both Link and Marisa are both strong and weak in turn. Both have baggage, know they have baggage, and are working through some of the bags, but have accepted that other bags will be with them forever. Like real people. Their personal histories are part of the characters, not something put into the story to add depth. The romance between Link and Marisa is the most natural thing. It's chemistry with respect and maturity-true emotional connection instead of lust. Their growing affection is simultaneously longed for and rejected, unexpected yet unavoidable. Yet, despite the genre, the ending didn't feel like a given. In a word, this book was captivating. It was also satisfying. Okay, that's two words. Captivating and satisfying. I am so glad I was the one who got to review this book. I'll be suggesting this title for my book club once it's out in print. Originally posted at The Long and Short of It Romance Reviews
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Couldn't put it down! Loved this series!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Really enjoyed this book and series
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Amish1949 More than 1 year ago
This is such an awesome Amish suspense story! I really enjoyed reading it! I always end up trying to figure out "who did it", there seem to be so many possibilities, that when I come toward the end of the story...the suspense really builds up, and I start reading a few lines ahead. Well, I couldn't help it....it was that good of a story! This is my second book read in the Amish Suspense book series by Marta Perry- I highly recommend this book!
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Held my attention to the end
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Darrian loves the nook
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Church35lady More than 1 year ago
Exciting adventure of a Little Ole Lady Sleuth. Never a dull moment.
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Christine Parker More than 1 year ago
Quick read. Enjoyed the interplay with the Amish community.
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