by Marta Perry
“Turned it over to God,” Geneva said. “Each time the burden seemed too heavy, or I didn’t think I could go another step without Blake, I just reached out for His hand. It was always there.”
“That must be very comforting, to know you have someone to lean on.”
Geneva sighed again. “It’s harder for some people, I think. Trey, for instance. He’s so determined to be the strong one that he can’t admit he needs help, but he does.”
Trey would hate it if he thought she’d discussed him with his mother. Even though Geneva had brought it up, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d blame it on her.
“Trey seems to feel it’s his duty to take care of everyone else,” she said carefully. “Right now, he’s torn between wanting to protect you from involvement in the case and wanting to protect me by having me here, which is a really good reason for me to go back to the motel.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Geneva said instantly. “How on earth does Trey think he can keep me away from the case? I’m committed to seeing Thomas exonerated. That’s what’s right.”
“Unfortunately, being right isn’t enough in a court of law. We have to be able to prove it.” She gestured toward the television set in the corner. The noon news had come on, and Thomas’s face flashed on the screen.
Geneva lifted the remote to turn up the sound. The reporter, having nothing new to report, rehashed the case, sitting in front of a picture of Cherry Wilson, head thrown back, laughing.
“It’s disgraceful,” she muttered. “They take it for granted he is guilty.”
“The reporting hasn’t crossed the line, but each time people hear something like that, they become more convinced that Thomas is guilty. If we can’t find some way to counter the bad publicity, I’m afraid we’ll never find an impartial jury.”
“If…” Geneva stared at the television screen, her face curiously blank.
“Geneva? Is something wrong?”
Her usual smile erased the impression. “No, not at all. You just reminded me of something.”
The telephone rang. Geneva reached across the desk to answer and then handed the receiver to Jessica. “It’s someone from the courthouse.”
She took the phone. She listened, made the appropriate response and hung up, pressing her fingers against her throbbing temples.
“What is it?” Geneva reached out, as if prepared to comfort.
She shook her head slowly. “They’ve finalized a trial date. It’s only a month away.”
A month. She repeated the words in her mind. She’d expected to have until the next term of court, at least.
A month. Four weeks to find a way to prove that Thomas was innocent, or he could face spending the rest of his life in the state penitentiary.
TREY DIDN’T RETURN TO THE house until well after supper. Because he didn’t want to spend time with her? Jessica didn’t know. But she suspected that he was as blindsided by the feelings between them as she was.
He came into the study, where she’d been working on her laptop, giving her a frowning gaze. “I understand the trial date is set.”
She nodded. “Just a month. Although I’m not sure having more time would help.”
Trey sat in the chair next to her. She could feel his gaze on her face, so intense that he might as well be touching her skin.
“Where were you today?” She didn’t mean that to sound accusing. She just wanted to get him talking so that she could dismiss the intimacy of the moment.
“I had some work to do. Then I went over to Jonas’s place and had a look around the barn.”
The words startled her. “But I didn’t tell you—” She stopped, not sure she wanted to say the rest of it.
“Didn’t tell me what?” He clasped her hand in his. “What, Jessica? You can trust me.”
“I know.” Her smile flickered. “I just didn’t want to sound paranoid.”
His gaze met hers steadily for a long moment. “You don’t think it was an accident.”
She shrugged, not sure she wanted to go that far. “I heard…thought I heard…someone in the loft just before the bales fell over.”
“You didn’t see anyone?” His words came quick and hard.
“No. I can’t even be sure of what I heard. Maybe it was just a natural sound. The floorboards settling or something.”
“But someone might have been there. Someone might have given those bales a shove.”
“How could that happen?” She’d been over this in her own mind a hundred times today. “Wouldn’t he or she have been spotted?”
He frowned, turning her hand idly in his. “Not necessarily. Probably no one was looking at the loft. The kids were all intent on each other, and the few adults probably had their minds on their own chores. Besides, it was dark enough looking up there from below that a person might not have been visible.”
A shiver went through her. She’d much rather think it had been an accident, pure and simple. “How would he get up there? And get away?”
“Easier than you might think. There are several ladders that lead down to the barn floor.” He snagged a pen and tablet from the desk and paused, looked at the image she had doodled earlier that day—the odd little hex symbol that had been on the threatening note. “Is this worrying you?”
“Only because I don’t know what it means, if anything.”
He shook his head slowly, frowning, and she had the sense that he didn’t say what he thought.
“Well, about the barn.” He flipped the page over and drew a rough sketch. “Here, here and here there are ladders.” He pointed. “Somebody could come down while everyone was intent on you. There’s also another ladder over here at the far end. It leads into the equipment area, so if he came and went that way, he didn’t have to go into the main part of the barn at all.”
She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. “Someone in Amish dress wouldn’t have been noticed.”
“That’s ridiculous.” His words slashed back at her. “They wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“They…he…might not have intended to do much harm. If I hadn’t been getting to my feet when the bales fell, I doubt that I’d have been hurt. Startled, maybe. Scared.”
“What reason could any Amish person have for trying to scare you away? They want Thomas to be found innocent.”
“I don’t know.” Her hand twisted involuntarily, and he smoothed his fingers over it, as if he calmed a child. “But you can’t deny that some have been opposed to my involvement. And you must have been suspicious, or you wouldn’t have been out there looking over the barn today.”
“I suppose I was,” he admitted. “Jonas is a good friend, and I could see that he wasn’t satisfied, as well.”
“Did he think it was deliberate?”
“He didn’t say that, but I could tell it was in his mind.” He shook his head. “I can’t make any sense out of it. I suppose an outsider could have followed us, but how would they know you were in the loft? How would they know how to get up there without being seen?”
“That brings us back to accident,” she said.
“I guess.” He enclosed her hand in both of his. “Maybe I’m just spooked, worrying about you.”
She was suddenly breathless. “You…you shouldn’t. I’m used to looking out for myself.”
“And I’m used to looking out for the people I care about.” His voice deepened on the words, and her breath caught. She ought to look away from the intensity of his gaze, but she couldn’t. She seemed to be drowning in it. He leaned toward her—
“There you are, Trey.” Geneva hurried into the room, and Trey jerked back in his chair as if he’d been shot.
“Mom, we were talking.”
“Were you, dear? That’s nice.” She gave them a bright-eyed look and then switched on the television. “I won’t disturb you for long, but there’s something on the local news at seven that I want you to see.”
Jessica retrieved her hand. Lucky Geneva had come in when she had. An
interruption was all that would have kept them from kissing again. From getting more entangled in a relationship she was afraid couldn’t go anywhere.
The television newscaster was giving a report on a three-car pileup. Jessica looked from Trey to his mother, but judging from Geneva’s expression, this wasn’t the news tidbit she was interested in.
A brief close-up of the reporter—the same one who’d waylaid her outside the jail and again at the Esch farm. The woman turned, and Jessica realized who she was interviewing.
Geneva. Geneva, big as life, smiling at the camera and telling the world that she believed in Thomas’s innocence, and that she was happy to be paying for his defense.
“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, a TV 10 exclusive with Geneva Morgan, local business owner, revealing that she is providing representation for Thomas Esch, accused in the brutal murder of Cherry Wilson. A request for comment from Esch’s family and other local Amish was refused.”
The interview was short—that was the only bright spot Jessica could find. It ended, and Geneva switched the set off and turned to Trey with a smile identical to the one she’d worn on camera.
“There. Wasn’t that excellent?”
“Mom…” Trey often sounded frustrated when he talked with his mother, but for the first time since she’d known him, he seemed to feel helpless. “Why did you do that? What on earth possessed you?”
“The community needs to know that some of us believe Thomas is innocent. Now they do.” She beamed. “I’m so pleased about it, and it’s all thanks to Jessica. She gave me the idea.”
Jessica felt her mouth drop open. “I didn’t…”
Trey was looking at her with rage burning in the eyes that had been so warm only a few minutes ago. “Why would you do that? You know I don’t want my mother exposed to that sort of publicity.”
“I didn’t.” She was angry right back at him, but underneath the anger was pain. He judged her so quickly. “Geneva, for pity’s sake, I didn’t suggest that you do any such thing.”
Geneva finally seemed to wake up to just how angry her son was. “No, dear, of course you didn’t suggest it. Trey, stop looking like a thundercloud. We were talking about all the bad publicity, and Jessica said it was a shame there wasn’t anyone giving the other side.”
“I didn’t say that, exactly. Just that I’d like to find a way to counter the bad publicity.” She experienced the helplessness Trey seemed to feel so often with his mother. “Geneva, I certainly didn’t want you to do anything.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Geneva beamed, unrepentant. “I showed the community that we support Thomas.”
“Yes. You did.” Trey looked weighted down with the responsibility he took so seriously. “I just hope you don’t have cause to regret it.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BY MONDAY MORNING, Jessica couldn’t stay in the house any longer. She told herself it was because she had to get back to work, but she knew the truth. She really wanted to get away from reminders of the complicated situation with Trey.
Apparently Trey felt the same. He’d left the house even earlier than she had.
She sighed, pushing herself back from the desk in Leo’s office, and flexed her fingers. At least it was her left wrist, not her right. The doctor had given her a wrist support, saying it ought to allow her to use her left hand to some extent. He hadn’t mentioned how much that would hurt.
Leo, standing at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to consult a reference, peered at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “How do you feel about getting a psychiatric exam for Thomas?”
She brushed her hair back from her face, generating an instant memory of Trey doing the same thing, Trey’s fingers lingering against her cheek…
She forced herself to concentrate. “If we bring in a psychiatric defense, that means we’re admitting he’s guilty. I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t either.” Leo put the heavy tome down on his desk. “But—”
“But I suppose we shouldn’t miss any possibilities.” She finished the thought for him. “Do you know anyone?”
He nodded. “Leave it to me.”
It was the right thing, wasn’t it? “What has happened in other local trials involving the Amish?”
Leo stared at her blankly for a moment. “There haven’t been any—well, at least not of this nature. The Amish are far more likely to be victims. A couple of Amish young men were arrested on drug charges a few years ago.”
“What was the public reaction to that?”
“Mixed.” He sat on the corner of his desk. “The fact that they were Amish caused a bit of sensationalism, but most local people understood that they were unbaptized teens who probably were in the process of leaving the church anyway.”
She nodded. “I’ve had an attorney friend looking into cases nationwide. She hasn’t been able to find anything helpful. Other than causes like having their own schools and the recent issues with the state’s attempt to outlaw lay midwives, the Amish simply don’t appear in connection with the law.”
“Even in the case of the drug dealing, there wasn’t the kind of outcry there’s been in this case.”
“Our favorite television reporter has been responsible for a lot of that.”
“To say nothing of the district attorney. He held another news conference.” Leo tossed the book he held on the desk, and it landed on the blotter with a dull thud. “He’s riding the publicity for all its worth.”
Jessica pushed back from the desk, dissatisfied. She hadn’t followed up every other possibility, and she had to. The trial date was coming at them like a freight train. Or maybe like a train wreck.
She stood. “I’m going out for a while. I’ll check back later.”
“Do you want me to drive you?”
“No, thanks.” If Leo knew where she was going, he might react the way Trey had, and she didn’t need any protective males following her around.
As soon as she was out of the office, she called for a taxi. Twenty minutes later, she was getting out at the garage where Chip Fulton worked.
The bay doors stood open, so she walked inside. A burly man leaning over a car’s motor straightened, gesturing toward the door. “Boss is in the office.”
She spotted the name embroidered on his striped coveralls. “Are you Chip?
“That’s right.” Tall, heavyset, he had the look of someone who’d once been an athlete but had lost the battle to stay in shape. “I’m Chip.” His gaze drifted over her body, and he smiled. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a few questions I hope you can answer.”
His gaze sharpened on her face, and his smile disappeared. “Hey, you’re her. That lawyer trying to get Cherry’s killer off.” His beefy hand closed over a wrench. “You got a nerve, coming in here.”
Her pulse quickened, but she kept her voice even. “Thomas is innocent until proved guilty, you know.”
“He’s guilty as sin, that’s what I know.” His face reddened, and a vein throbbed in his temple. “You’d better get out. Go back where you belong, and leave us alone.”
It was an unpleasant echo of the notes. She took a step toward him, anger overcoming caution. “It was you, wasn’t it? You slashed my tires. You sent me those notes. Did you push me, too?”
He raised the wrench. “I didn’t do nothing. You can’t blame stuff on me.”
He was only feet from her. The empty garage echoed with the sound of his voice. Her stomach twisted, and she gripped her bag, hefting it. Not much of a weapon, but all she had. If he…
“Fulton!” The man who strode out of the office area was slight and graying, but his voice carried a note of authority. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from that lady.”
Chip took a step back. “I wasn’t doing nothing. She’s the one, coming in here, accusing me of stuff I didn’t do.”
The older man turned to Jessica, a mix of apology and curiosity on his face. “If you have a beef with Fulto
n’s work, you’d better take it up with me. This is my shop.”
“It’s nothing to do with his work, Mr. Walbeck.” Like Chip, he wore his name on his coveralls. “My name is Jessica Langdon. I’m an attorney representing Thomas Esch.” She probably didn’t need to say more, as much publicity as the case had had. “I’m sorry to interrupt his work, but I’d like to ask Chip a few questions about Cherry Wilson.”
He could tell her to get out, but she hoped he wouldn’t. He paused a moment, studying her face. Then he gave a short nod and turned to Chip.
“Answer the lady’s questions and be done with it, Fulton. You haven’t got anything to hide, do you?”
“No, sir,” he said quickly. “I didn’t do nothing.”
“Then answer the questions and get back to work.” He turned abruptly and stalked toward the office.
He didn’t go inside, though, Jessica noticed. He stopped at a board covered with pegs from which sets of keys were hanging. He might be looking for something, but she had the feeling he wanted to hear what was going on. Or maybe he was being protective.
“Go ahead, ask.” Chip tossed the wrench into a toolbox, where it landed with a metallic thud. “I got nothing to hide.”
She took a breath, reorganizing her thoughts. This was about Cherry Wilson, not about notes and slashed tires. “I heard that you and Cherry dated.”
He shrugged massive shoulders. “Sometimes. Not serious. We knew each other a long time, see? Since third grade, maybe. We’d go out, talk, have a few drinks, a few laughs, but I knew she’d never get serious about me.”
“Why not? If you were old friends—”
“Cherry wouldn’t settle for a mechanic. She wanted better for herself.”
She raised her eyebrows. “How would an Amish farm kid fit into that?”
“He wouldn’t.” Chip’s face tightened and his hands clenched, but he didn’t make a move toward her. “No way Cherry would ever get serious about a kid like that. She might party with him, just for laughs, but that’s all. He got mad when she turned him down. He killed her.”
