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Dear Reader:

Some crime cases continue to haunt us long after the jury has returned its verdict. Cases involving young people are especially hard to forget.

The violent murder of sixteen-year-old Laurie Show stunned the peaceful world of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and continues to send shock waves through this quiet community in the midst of Amish country. A twisted love triangle, a passionate affair that erupted into murderous rage, a jealous rivalry that cost one teen her lifeand sent three others to prisonthese are some of the elements that make Overkill a page-turning classic of real-life suspense.

Already hailed by experts, reviewers, and readers, Overkill will enthrall and amaze you. Sit back and enjoy a fascinating story, told by one of Americans finest investigative journalists.

If you would like to comment on Overkill, wed love to hear from you at marketing@kensingtonbooks.com.

Dont miss Lyn Riddles other real-life crime thrillers, available from Pinnacle!

With my best wises,

Michaela Hamilton

Executive Editor, Pinnacle True Crime

Also by Lyn Riddle

Ashes to Ashes

Family Blood

First Well Kill My Husband

OVERKILL

Lyn Riddle

PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.pinnaclebooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

For my mother, Doris Howell Nabers, and my father, Robert Franklin Nabers, heroes, too

Part 1: The Murder

One

The sun had not yet peaked above the cutover cornfields of Pennsylvanias Amish country when Hazel Show guided her three-year-old Ford Tempo out of the parking lot of her condominium complex. Hazel thought it was odd to be summoned to meet her daughter Lauries high school counselor so early in the morning. But, at least she could get the ordeal over with and get on with her Christmas shopping. Only four more days until the holiday. Her house had been decorated for some time. A Christmas tree with family heirloomsthe handmade treasures Laurie made in schoolstood in the corner, decorated a few days earlier by Laurie and two friends. A pine wreath hung from the center of the garland-wrapped railing outside the second-floor condominium.

Hazel wondered what the counselor wanted. Laurie had no idea. The night before, Laurie had said she had done nothing wrong. Nothing unusual had happened at Conestoga Valley High School, where Laurie was a sophomore. She seemed genuinely puzzled, Hazel thought. Surely, they were not going back to the time, some months earlier, when Laurie was hanging out with people Hazel disapproved of, when some of Hazels jewelry mysteriously vanished. Hazel now considered Lauries earlier problems normal teenage rebellion that had run its course. School was a priority and her friends seemed fairly stable.

Hazel Show worked as a nurses aide at Community Hospital in Lancaster, about two miles from her condominium at the Oaks in East Lampeter Township, the heart of Amish country. She was at the hospital the day before, sterilizing instruments, when the counselors call came into the nurses lounge. Few people had that number, so Hazel had known before answering that it was something important, most likely from Laurie or one of Hazels brothers.

Mrs. Show, this is Mrs. Cooper at Conestoga Valley High School. Im wondering if you could meet me at school tomorrow morning. I need to talk with you about a problem with Laurie.

A problem? Hazel had said.

Yes, a problem with a boy and something that happened outside the gym today. Id rather talk in person.

Hazel had agreed to meet her at 7:30 A.M.

Twenty minutes later, the lounge phone had rung again.

Mrs. Show, this is Mrs. Cooper. I forgot I have a meeting at Conestoga Valley Junior High on Friday. Could you just meet me there, about seven?

Hazel had agreed and gone back to work. Now, she was driving past a collection of homes, turning onto Horseshoe Road, which led to the farms of the Amish in Lancaster County, situated in Pennsylvanias southeastern corner. She had lived her whole life in the area, where the Amish and the folks they called the English had forged an alliance, symbiotic yet separate. The Amish kept to themselves, but everyone in one way or another relied on the tourists who flocked to see for themselves the simple life, a life of horses and buggies, farming for subsistence and for profit, no electricity.

Hazel Show pulled into the parking lot of the junior high school and walked inside. It was a few minutes before seven and the commotion of a middle schools day had not yet begun. A janitor directed her to the office to wait for Mrs. Cooper. Hazel sat down and noticed the festive Christmas decorations. Minutes passed. Mrs. Cooper did not arrive. A man delivered presents adorned in elegant Christmas wrap. A secretary came in and sat behind her desk to start her day, the last before school let out for vacation. Another secretary walked in, but no Mrs. Cooper.

Hazel looked at her watch: 7:07. Normally a patient person who would wait thirty minutes or more for someone, Hazel decided thats it, and scratched out a hasty note for Mrs. Cooper. She headed home. Something nagged her, telling her to hurry. Driving fast, she darted easily along narrow Horseshoe Road, retracing her route of a few minutes earlier. This time, she made every one of the five traffic lights on the seven-mile route and arrived home quickly.

A neighbor met her as she alighted from the car.

Is something wrong? said the neighbor, an older woman, crippled by scoliosis, who always seemed to be around. She and her husband lived downstairs from the Shows in a complex of two-story apartments, four to each building.

What do you mean? Hazel said.

There was a commotion upstairs, the woman said.

Hazel Show darted up the stairs, put her key in the lock, and pushed inside. The lights were on in the kitchen. Maybe Laurie had made cocoa, she thought. Hazel assumed Laurie had already left for school; her boyfriend, Brad Heisler, was supposed to pick her up. Must have been when Brad came in that the neighbor heard what she considered a commotion, Hazel thought.

But then, as she walked past the bathroom, Hazel noticed Lauries curling iron was still plugged in. Decidedly unlike Laurie, Hazel thought. Brad and his father both served on the local volunteer fire department. That would have certainly caught his attention.

She peeked around the corner into Lauries bedroom. It took her a moment to realize what her eyes were seeing. On the white plush carpet lay her daughter covered in blood. Arms jerking at her sides, Laurie gasped for breath, mouselike noises coming from her throat. Her eyes were open.

Hazel turned and ran to the front door, screaming to her neighbor, Call nine-one-one. Lauries hurt. She hurried back into her daughters room and saw a white ropelike something used for a clotheslinetied around Lauries neck. Hazel dropped her coat onto the floor, which was covered with blood and dirt from a potted plant that had been knocked over. She rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a paring knife from a drawer, and darted back into Lauries bedroom.

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