by Marta Perry
“We’ll find something,” he said. They had to.
“We?” Her gaze seemed to sizzle on his face. “You’re suddenly sounding like this is about more than keeping your mother out of trouble. I should think you’d be jumping at the chance to take a plea and get the case off the front pages as quickly as possible.”
“You must not think much of me if you assume I want to see that kid go to prison.” His fingers tightened on the wheel.
“If you still think he’s guilty—”
“I don’t.” He might as well get this said. “Or at least, I’m not sure. That drug report—maybe my mother had it right all along. If there’s a chance Thomas is innocent, I have to help.”
“A lot of people wouldn’t see it that way. A lot of people would say it wasn’t any of their business.”
“Those people weren’t raised by my parents. They lived their beliefs every day of their lives.”
“You were lucky, having parents like that.”
Something in her voice made him look at her. She’d turned her face away, but the curve of her neck looked…vulnerable.
“Your family—” he began.
“There’s the street.” She cut him off. Clearly the topic of her family was off-limits.
He made the turn, letting the subject drop. But not forgetting it. He was fortunate in his family. Maybe Jessica wasn’t so lucky.
Pulling to the curb, he took a moment to survey the house, a fairly new, upper-middle-class mini-mansion in one of the developments that had sprouted up recently on the outskirts of Lancaster. What was a girl from a house like this doing partying with an Amish kid?
Jessica was already getting out, and he followed her up the walk. The girl must have been watching for them, because she opened the door before they had a chance to knock.
“Hi. Are you Dani Cresswood?” Jessica struck a nice balance between formal and friendly.
The girl, in jeans and a T-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail, clutched the door. “I really can’t tell you anything more than what I told the police. I don’t remember anything else.”
She meant she wouldn’t admit to knowing, he suspected.
“Let’s just go over it together,” Jessica said. “Something may pop into your mind that you didn’t think of before this. May we come in?”
Dani stepped back, still holding the door. She gestured them into the formal living room to the right of the center hallway. Probably the better to get them back out the door, he’d think.
“My mom will be back in half an hour. We’d better get this over before then. She doesn’t want me talking about it.” She rolled her eyes. “Like it will disappear if I don’t talk about it.”
“Let’s get on with it, then.” Sitting down, Jessica pulled a typewritten sheet from her leather briefcase. “I have here a copy of the statement you gave to the police.”
Dani’s eyes widened. “How did you get that?”
“The district attorney is required to turn over all evidence to the defendant’s lawyer,” Jessica said. “That’s only fair. You want to be fair to Thomas, don’t you?”
“If he killed Cherry…” She let that die out.
“If,” Jessica said. “That hasn’t been proved yet. Everyone is entitled to a fair trial, don’t you think?”
“You have an obligation to cooperate.” Trey suspected Jessica wouldn’t appreciate his interceding, but that’s why he was here, wasn’t it? He wasn’t just a chauffeur.
That earned him a pout and a sideways glance from the girl. “It’s none of my business.”
“It’s everybody’s business to help when they can.” What he’d said to Jessica about the Morgans wasn’t just a family custom. It was the belief he lived by, even when his worries about his mother got the better of him.
The pout deepened, and Dani shrugged. “Well, I’d help if I could, but I don’t know anything.”
“Did you see Thomas at the party that night?” Jessica had her pen poised over the police report, probably ready to spring on any inconsistencies.
“Well, yeah, I guess. But I didn’t talk to him.” She sounded as if she thought she should get points for that.
“Had you seen him at other parties?”
She considered. “I guess, maybe. There were a few Amish kids who came around.”
“And Cherry? Did you see her?”
Jessica sounded patient, even though it seemed like slow going to him. He’d plunge right into the pertinent question. Did you see anyone slip something into Thomas’s drink? That was what they needed to know.
Dani nodded. “I didn’t know who she was at first, but somebody told me she liked to come to parties. I don’t know why.” Her nose wrinkled. “She was old.”
Twenty-four. Well, to this kid that probably seemed ancient.
“Was Thomas drinking?”
“Yeah. Well, he must have been. Everybody was.”
“Think about it,” Jessica urged. “Try to picture him in your mind the way you saw him that night.”
Dani obediently closed her eyes. “Okay, yeah,” she said finally. “He had a beer can in one hand. He’d put it down when he was dancing, but I’m sure I saw him with one.”
And if he put it down to dance, anyone could have tampered with it.
“It looks as if someone put something in Thomas’s drink at the party,” Jessica said. “Did you see—”
“No!” Dani shied away from that. Apparently beer was one thing, even though she was obviously underage, but drugs were another. “I don’t know anything about any drugs. Nobody was doing drugs at that party. They wouldn’t, and if they had been, I’d have left.” She rose. “I think I shouldn’t talk to you anymore without my folks being here.”
“Dani, I’m just trying to get at the truth about what happened. I’m not accusing you. If you saw anything to indicate that Thomas was under the influence—”
“I didn’t, okay? It’s not like I was watching him, but when I saw him, he looked fine.” She clamped her mouth shut. Then she marched to the door and opened it.
They followed her. Jessica paused on the doorstep to press a card into the girl’s hand. “If you think of anything, call me.”
No response. This kid was so intent on protecting herself, and probably her friends, that she wouldn’t do a thing to help.
And that was exactly what he’d been doing…so eager to protect his mother that he’d forgotten that there were other people who needed help. He glanced at Jessica as they walked toward the car. She needed his help, although she didn’t want to admit it. Thomas did, too.
What he’d said to Jessica was the simple truth. He’d been brought up to take responsibility. And from this point on, he was in this to stay.
JESSICA SHOULD HAVE SAID no to the invitation to dinner at Geneva’s that night. Just as she should have done something to stop the growing attraction she felt for Trey. She missed on both counts.
She set the plate that had contained a slice of rhubarb pie on the end table next to her. The living room glowed with a mellow light from a pair of brass table lamps. The other three probably felt as sated as she did after the meal Geneva had served.
Trey sat in a worn leather armchair that must have been his father’s, although sat wasn’t exactly the right word. He’d slid down to the base of his spine, his long legs stretched out on the leather ottoman. He looked practically boneless in that position.
Geneva and Leo, on opposite ends of the sofa, were scanning the newspaper spread out between them. A golden retriever lay on the floor, his heavy head resting on Geneva’s foot, his graying muzzle a testament to his age.
If she didn’t say something, she’d fall asleep. “I didn’t see Sam the last time I was here.” She nodded at the dog, and his plumy tail waved a bit at the sound of his name.
“He can get stressed if there’s company,” Trey said, not moving.
The likeness between dog and man, both stretched out in almost-comatose relaxation, made her smile. “He doesn’
t look particularly stressed at the moment,” she observed.
“Like me, you mean.” Trey hadn’t moved, but he seemed to sense her smile, which was a disturbing thought.
“I didn’t say that.” She probably should stop looking at him.
“Sam was Blake’s dog.” Geneva, not seeming to notice the byplay, bent to ruffle Sam’s ears. His tail thudded against the Oriental rug. “He still misses him, don’t you, Sammy?”
The dog didn’t respond. But Trey’s muscles tightened so much that Jessica didn’t have to be looking at him to feel his tension. Wishing she hadn’t mentioned the dog, she sought for a change of subject.
“I take it you didn’t make much progress with the young people you interviewed today,” Leo said, coming to the rescue.
“Not much.” The reminder was discouraging. “It was the teenage wall of silence. No one would admit to anything more than seeing Thomas and Cherry at the party. No one saw anyone slip the drug to Thomas, or knows anything about any drugs, or will even admit to seeing them leave, either separately or together.”
“Kids watch too much television,” Leo said. “They know they don’t have to talk to you.”
“You’ll have better luck tomorrow night with the Amish kids.” Geneva was the eternal optimist. “If Bishop Amos told them to talk, they’ll talk.”
“I just hope somebody at that party was sober enough to notice something.” She stared down into the cup of coffee that Geneva assured her was decaf. “The trial date is coming on fast, and right now we have nothing.”
“Something will turn up.” Geneva closed the newspaper and tossed it aside. “Honestly, I’m going to cancel my subscription to that paper if they don’t stop printing all that garbage about Thomas.”
“It might make more of an impression if you canceled your advertising,” Leo said. “The Morgan name means something around here.”
“That’s a good idea.” Geneva brightened. “Trey, that’s just what we should do. I’ll call tomorrow and cancel our advertising. And when they ask why, I’ll tell them.”
Trey sat up marginally straighter. “We can’t do that. We need them as much as they need us.”
“Advertising?” Jessica blinked, the comment taking her off-guard. “What do you advertise?”
“Morgan Lumberyard, Morgan Real Estate, MRB Construction, Morgan’s Tractor Parts…” Trey stopped, frowning. “Anything else we’re running ads for right now, Mom?”
“The feed mill,” Geneva said. “And I really feel we ought to do more about the general store. I know you think it’s old-fashioned, but tourists find it quaint.”
“You own all those businesses?”
Trey had mentioned something about businesses and rental property in relation to Morgan Enterprises, but she’d assumed…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d assumed. Still, he’d made it clear that he was taking time away from work to help with the case.
“Anyway, I will not pay advertising dollars to a paper that prints innuendo as news.” Geneva’s cheeks flushed. “Imagine, hinting that Thomas was using drugs.”
Leo looked a little startled at the response to what had been an offhand comment. “I really didn’t mean you should rush into anything, Geneva. Why don’t I call the publisher tomorrow and see if that does any good?”
Geneva looked reluctant to give up on the idea of taking on the newspaper. “I feel as if I’m not doing a thing useful. As least if I did cancel our advertising, I’d be making a statement.”
“Let’s see how they respond to Leo first, Mom.” Trey’s voice soothed, but his eyebrows had drawn together. “And you’re doing plenty. It encourages Thomas to know you’re behind him. Really.” He turned to Jessica. “By the way, I have to go to Harrisburg tomorrow to attend a couple of meetings with state legislators about the proposal to turn the interstate into a toll road, but I’ll be back in plenty of time to pick you up. The kids won’t be gathering until it’s getting dark—probably nine or so.”
She recognized the appeal in his look. Get his mother off the subject of mounting a campaign against the newspaper, it said. “That’s fine. I have some other things to do during the day anyway. I want to interview Cherry’s employer and her coworkers.”
Leo stirred. “I read through their statements to the police. Not much there.”
“What do you think they’ll tell you that they didn’t tell the police?” Trey’s eyebrows lifted, as if to question her use of her time.
“Maybe nothing.” She was a little nettled. What did he know about preparing a case? “But I need to see for myself. I don’t believe in taking things for granted.”
“Always want to do it yourself,” he said, his voice deceptively lazy.
She straightened. “That’s right. I want to track down Charles Fulton, as well. Leo, you said he worked at a local garage?”
“Chip Fulton?” Trey’s voice cut across Leo’s answer. “What does he have to do with this?”
“He and Cherry apparently had a relationship, and he has a history of violence. The police didn’t bother to do more than a cursory interview with him.”
“Thought they already had their killer gift wrapped,” Leo murmured.
“Maybe Chip should be interviewed,” Trey said. “But you can’t do it.”
She gave him a chilly look. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, you shouldn’t do it. Not alone.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking a statement from the man.” Trey had a nerve implying that she liked to do everything for herself. His protectiveness was far worse. “I’ve never required a bodyguard before, and I don’t now.”
Trey sat bolt upright in the chair, any pretense of relaxation dropped. “I’m telling you, Chip is nobody to fool around with. He’s got a nasty temper, and if he thinks you’re hinting that he killed Cherry…”
“That’s ridiculous.” Her own temper wasn’t helped by the fact that Geneva and Leo were watching them with identical expressions of amusement. “First of all, I’m not going to hint anything of the kind. And secondly, I might need your help in communicating with the Amish, but the Chip Fultons of the world I can handle on my own. I spent three years as an A.D.A. in Philadelphia, and I doubt very much that Chip can match what I dealt with there.”
Trey’s mouth tightened. “I still say—”
She stood. “Thank you so much for dinner, Geneva. I really think I’d better get back to the motel.”
“Don’t rush off just because Trey is being bossy,” Geneva said, for all the world as if Jessica were ending a playdate because of a childish spat. “He can’t help it. He was born that way. You can have another sliver of pie, can’t you?”
“Not possibly.” She didn’t dare look at Trey to see how he reacted to his mother’s comments. “It’s not anything Trey said. I have some work I have to get through before I quit for the night.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Geneva looked doubtful.
“I’m sure.” She bent to pick up her bag. “Good night, Geneva. Leo.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Trey shoved himself from his chair before she could say that wasn’t necessary.
When she turned to precede Trey out the door, Sam lumbered to his feet and followed them.
“Time for a little walk, old boy?” Trey’s voice relaxed when he spoke to the dog. “Come on, then.”
They stepped out into the night, the dog at their heels. Once they were beyond the yellow glow of the porch light, she paused to let her eyes grow accustomed to the dimness.
Trey took her arm, his hand large and warm against her skin. “Look, about Chip—”
“Don’t start,” she warned. “I can take care of myself.”
“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced, but at least he didn’t continue to argue. “I’ll give you a call when I get back tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She couldn’t deny that she needed his help just to find the Amish teens’ party, let alone to talk to them.
She reached for the car door, but T
rey beat her to it, opening the driver’s side door. “My mother might be watching. You don’t want…” His voice died out.
She followed the direction of his gaze. On the front seat of the car, clearly visible now that the dome light was on, was another warning note.
Trey picked it up, holding it by one corner. His breath hissed out.
It was a photo of her, taken outside the jail. Across her figure, someone had drawn a thick, red X. The line trailed down, looking just like drops of blood.
CHAPTER TEN
“COME ON.” TREY GRABBED Jessica’s arm and hustled her toward the house. The idea that someone was out there, in the dark, maybe watching them—
Get Jessica inside, then he’d go looking for the person who’d come onto his property, threatened his guest.
“Trey, you’re overreacting.”
He ignored her efforts to pull away from him. Of course she would. If he’d met a more stubbornly independent woman, he didn’t remember it. “Maybe so.” They reached the door, and he shoved her inside. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Leo and his mother hurried toward them from the family room. Sam, probably alerted by his tone, let out a deep bark, turning to look toward the woods.
“What’s going on?” Leo glanced at Jessica but looked at him for an answer.
“Somebody’s been here. Left a threatening note in Jessica’s car.” He gave Jessica a gentle push toward his mother. “Mom, please keep Jessica inside while we search the grounds.”
She didn’t argue, just put her arm around Jessica’s waist and picked up the phone with her other hand. “I’ll call Adam Byler. You two be careful out there.”
He nodded, jerking open the closet door to grab a couple of flashlights from the shelf. He tossed one to Leo. “You okay to take a look around?”
“You’re not leaving me behind.” Leo’s face set. He switched on the flashlight and followed Trey out. The sound of Jessica’s voice, asking who Adam Byler was, faded with the closing door. “Don’t worry. Your mother won’t let her come out,” Leo said. “How long will it take the township police to get here?”
“Depends upon where they are. Ten to twenty minutes, I’d guess.” Someone—Mom, he supposed—had switched on all the outside lights. He stepped beyond their reach and paused, swinging his flashlight in a wide swath. The grass, cut only yesterday, wasn’t long enough to reveal any footsteps.
