by Marta Perry
“Mamm Rebecca, you must be so tired. We are here now, so why don’t you lie down and rest a bit? That nice nurse said she has a room you can use.”
“Ja.” Isaac came closer, trying to walk softly, as if afraid of disturbing his sister. “You need some rest. And Libby, also. She can go home now.”
Libby managed a smile, trying to see the boy she’d known behind the bearded man in front of her. “I just got back. I’ll stay.”
“You should go—”
“Of course Libby will stay.” Rebecca’s voice was firm. “She is Esther’s oldest friend. What are you thinking, Isaac?”
Grown man or not, Isaac looked abashed at his mother’s words. He stared at his shoes. “I just thought…”
His words trailed off as Anna bustled back into the room, carrying a tray with the promised coffee. Bishop Amos was right behind her, and in a moment the room was filled with low voices, murmuring in a combination of English and Pennsylvania Dutch.
Libby stepped out of the way as the others joined in urging Rebecca to rest for a while. She watched Isaac bend over his sister, reaching out to her tentatively.
What had Rebecca meant? She’d implied that it was Isaac who was worried about something in recent weeks, not Esther. She studied the stiff set of his shoulders. If Isaac had been worried in the past weeks, she had a feeling he’d never admit that.
* * *
THE FENCE AT the edge of the road was coming toward her. Libby jerked the wheel, her breath catching, and straightened the car. Obviously she was way too tired to be driving her brand-new sister-in-law’s car.
The driveway to the Morgan farm appeared ahead of her, guarded by enormous hemlocks on either side. With a rush of relief, she turned into the narrow lane.
Thursday’s snowfall still lay in drifts in the patch of woods that screened the house, but it had melted where the sunlight hit the lawn. It had been thanks to that snowfall that she’d arrived in Lancaster County so late. Too late.
She parked on the gravel drive in front of the white frame house, pulling her key from her bag as she scurried to the front porch. Mom should have locked the door when she left for the hospital, but it was anyone’s guess whether she had or not. Mom still seemed to think she lived in the safe, placid, rural community she’d moved to as a bride nearly forty years ago.
Sure enough, the door was unlocked. Libby slung her bag and jacket on the coatrack and walked back through to the family room. “Hello? Anyone home?”
No answer, not even from Sam, the golden retriever. But then, she hadn’t expected one. She and Mom had crossed paths when she was coming out of the hospital while her mother went in, and Link was undoubtedly spending the afternoon with Marisa, probably taking the dog with him. Those two were newly engaged, and eager enough that Mom might well have another wedding on her hands soon.
Fatigue dragged at Libby as she went up the stairs, hand running along the smooth, warm wood of the banister. She was happy for Link. Of course she was. He deserved all the happiness in the world.
So why did the thought of Link married leave her so bereft? It wasn’t as though they’d seen a lot of each other in the past few years.
But twins were twins, wherever life took them. Link had been the companion of her childhood, even more than Esther. He’d been her partner in countless acts of mischief, her confidant when things had gone wrong.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, her conscience snapped in a voice that sounded rather like Adam’s. That’s what he’d said to her, wasn’t it?
He didn’t know the half of it. There was also the little matter of her job, and the fact that she still hadn’t told the family she had joined the ranks of the unemployed. To say nothing of the nagging sense that she didn’t know what she was going to do with her life.
Grow up, maybe. That sounded like a good move. She looked longingly at her bed, but another hot shower might do more to take out the kinks induced by hours in a plastic hospital chair.
A few minutes later she was stepping out of the shower, steam fogging the bathroom mirror and window. She wrapped one of Mom’s enormous bath sheets around her. This had definitely been the right choice. The shower seemed to have washed away the doubts she’d let debilitate her.
One thing at a time. The important factor now was to keep Esther safe, in case the accident had been deliberate. Since it was unlikely that Adam would agree to put a guard on her door, she’d just have to make sure there was always someone in Esther’s room with her.
Libby opened the bathroom door, letting the steam escape into the bedroom. She’d snatch a few hours of sleep and go back to the hospital. At some point she’d have to stop at a store and pick up a few more incidental Christmas gifts, with the holiday headed for them so quickly. At least nobody was questioning her staying for so long a visit, since the wedding had fallen less than a week before Christmas.
A door closed downstairs. Mom? A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her it was impossible for her mother to be back already. Maybe Link and Marisa, in which case it would be only tactful to let them know someone was here.
She traded the bath sheet for the fluffy pink robe she’d worn in high school and opened the bedroom door. “Link, is that you? I’m upstairs.”
No one answered. But from downstairs came the creak of a floorboard. She froze, clutching the door. She knew exactly which board made that sound…the one in the hallway near the family room door. They’d joked, as kids, about having their own private alarm system to let them know when Mom was about to appear in the door to the family room.
She listened, holding her breath. The faintest of sounds, like a hand brushing the wall. Her imagination? Or someone being careful, trying to avoid hitting any more creaky boards?
She gripped the door, undecided. She wouldn’t let herself panic. Maybe—
A footstep, definitely.
She moved backward, bare feet making no sound on the wide floorboards. Ease the door shut, carefully, carefully. She held her breath, releasing the knob ever so slowly. The snick of the lock sounded ridiculously loud.
In two steps she was at the phone, and in less than a minute she’d dialed 911. Adam’s voice, crisp and professional, took her aback for an instant, but of course it was Sunday. Probably the only reason the dispatcher had been there earlier was because of the current investigation.
“Adam, it’s Libby.” She kept her voice barely above the whisper. Whoever was in the house knew now that she was there, but maybe not exactly where. “Someone’s in the house.”
He didn’t waste time questioning how she knew. “Where are you?”
The wail of a siren punctuated his words. He was in the police car, then. With luck, not clear at the other end of the township.
“Locked in my bedroom. He’s downstairs.”
“Shove something in front of the door, and don’t come out until I tell you to. Understand?”
She’d resent his tone, but at the moment she was too eager to see him. “Yes. I understand.”
“Keep the phone line open.”
He didn’t need to tell her that twice. She set it down long enough to shove the dresser across the door. Then she leaned over the dresser, trying to listen over the thudding of her heart.
Nothing. Or at least, nothing she could hear. A smart burglar would get out quickly once he realized someone was in the house. Maybe he was gone already.
Or maybe not. She had no desire to find out. She sat on the edge of the bed, the phone cradled in her hands, and waited.
The sound of the siren was suddenly coming both from the phone and from outside. She reached the window in time to see the police car skid to a stop, gravel spraying. Adam got out, and just the sight of his tall figure was enough to make her stomach do a flip.
Going to the dresser, she put her hands on it to push it back into place, then thought the better of it. She’d wait until she heard Adam’s voice first.
She heard the front door open, then the sound of footsteps moving
through the downstairs. She waited, and it felt like forever.
Finally the footsteps came up the stairs. “Nobody here now. You can come out.”
She slid the dresser back, unlocked the door and opened it.
Adam lifted an eyebrow, and she realized how she must look—wet hair, damp robe, bare feet, her face bare of makeup.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, trying to hang on to whatever shreds of dignity she had left. “Did he take anything?” She had a sudden vision of her mother’s sterling silver gone while she was cowering in her room. “Maybe I should have—”
“You did exactly the right thing,” he said, his tone repressive. “I suppose you think it would have been better to go after him armed with a tennis racket.”
“My mother would have.” She could picture it perfectly.
“I love your mother dearly, but common sense is not her strong suit.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Come on. Let’s see if anything’s missing before I launch a full investigation.”
She slanted a sideways glance at him as they went down the stairs side by side. “Thanks for getting here so fast.”
“I wasn’t far away.” His gaze was fixed on the front door, not on her. “That door was unlocked. Did you leave it that way?”
“Mom had left it unlocked when she went to the hospital.”
“So you decided to do the same? I thought you big-city types were safety conscious.”
She clenched her teeth for an instant. “I intended to talk to her about it when she came in, but I didn’t want to lock her out, in case she hadn’t taken her keys.”
“There’s one under the third flowerpot on the left.”
At her surprised glance, he shrugged.
“She told me, in case I ever needed to get in. She’s probably told about half the township for one reason or another.”
That was her mother, all right. “If I knew, I’d forgotten. And since I was going in the shower, I might not have heard her when she came back.”
“So I see.” He glanced at her robe, and she had a feeling she was blushing.
Hurrying down the last few steps, she headed for the dining room. “I’ll check the silver. Isn’t that the first thing a burglar would take?”
“Only the sophisticated types. Around here, they’re more likely to grab the electronics.” He followed her to the sideboard, which was adorned with greens and holly in Mom’s silver punch bowl.
She bent to open the door and grabbed the chest, opening the lid. “It’s here.” The tightness in her throat eased as she slid the silver chest back in place. “Maybe he didn’t come in this room. The board I heard creak is at the entrance to the family room.”
The family room, where most of the electronic equipment would be. If Adam was right…
He was ahead of her, and she heard the board creak under his foot.
“That’s what I heard. Dad tried I don’t know how many times to fix that, but it always creaked.”
Adam moved into the family room and stopped, blocking her view.
“How bad is it?” She squeezed past him, expecting a mess. The family room was never all that neat, since that was where most of the family living was done, but Mom and her helpers had no doubt tidied up before the wedding. The mantelpiece was filled with greens and candles, and the family Christmas tree in the corner carried its usual array of ornaments made by her and her brothers. More to the point, her laptop still sat on the desk, in obvious view.
Adam didn’t speak, but it seemed to her that his very silence was skeptical. She glared at him.
“I did not imagine it. Someone was in the house. I heard him.”
He shrugged, his face impassive. “Could have been a neighbor, dropping something off. Or one of the Amish girls who helps your mother.” He held up his hand, stopping her protest. “Or it could have been a sneak thief, thinking no one was here and scared off when he realized he was wrong. I’ll check the rest of the downstairs more carefully, but it doesn’t look as if anything is missing.”
She should be pleased. She was pleased, except for the fact that Adam probably thought she was letting her nerves get away from her. Or, worse, that she wanted his attention.
She turned toward the desk, not eager to see his face right now. And found she was staring at a blank blue screen.
For a moment all she could do was stare. The computer should have been in sleep mode. It wasn’t. It took only a few keystrokes to show her the truth.
“Something is missing.” She felt numb. All her work, her business files, her personal data. “Someone has wiped my hard drive clean.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ADAM STUDIED LIBBY’S face. She obviously believed that. But was it really likely that someone had broken into the Morgan house just to damage Libby’s computer?
At his silence, Libby’s cheeks flushed. “I suppose you think I’m making that up.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Libby. I don’t think that at all. I can see for myself that the computer has crashed.”
“Everything’s gone.” She raked her fingers through her damp hair. “What a mess. All my photo files—”
“Don’t you have backup?” He took a step closer, impelled by the distress in her face. He didn’t quite get it himself, since he used the computer only when his job required, but he knew people who insisted their whole lives were on their computers.
“Yes, of course.” She managed a feeble smile. “I’m overreacting, I guess. I use an online backup system, so it’s not really lost. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound as if it was the end of civilization as we know it.”
“That’s okay. You’re entitled, after the time you’ve had lately.”
That flash of the old, spunky kid sister encouraged him, but he was going to have to be careful what he said to her. Libby was fragile, more so than he’d ever seen her.
“Okay, let’s assume someone came in the house while you were upstairs. You didn’t see a vehicle?”
She shook her head. “But someone planning a break-in wouldn’t leave a vehicle in plain sight.”
“True, but it’d also be pretty obvious if he walked in, with the snow cover.” He prolonged the conversation, since Libby looked better for concentrating on possibilities. “I’ll take a look around outside while you get dressed, and then we can do a more careful check of the house.”
She nodded, wrapping the fuzzy robe more tightly around her, as if just becoming aware that she stood there in robe and bare feet, looking as if she’d just stepped from the shower.
Whoa. Better not let his mind go there. Maybe getting dressed would help restore Libby’s balance. And the cold air would certainly do him some good right now.
Libby hurried up the stairs without another word, and he went back out the front door. He hadn’t taken the time for a good look around when he’d arrived, too intent on getting to Libby.
The massive wreath on the front door rustled as he closed the door. Adam stood on the front porch, surveying the area. The Morgan place stood in its own acreage some seven miles from Springville, a large, gracious house, set well back from the road. Everything about it screamed out the difference between Libby’s life and his own.
Not that something like that would necessarily stand between them if… Well, that was a stupid train of thought. He’d made too many mistakes with Libby to start over now, and for that matter, she’d never exactly shown a lot of confidence in him, either, jumping to conclusions about his guilt where Sally was concerned.
Focus, he ordered himself. The stand of evergreens that screened the house from view might provide cover for an intruder. The lawns were snow-covered in patches, but maybe there was enough bare ground that a man could approach without leaving prints in the snow.
Adam stepped down from the porch to the gravel-covered parking area. Nothing to be seen here, but it would take nerve to drive straight in from the road if you were intent on burglary. Still, there were no neighbors near enough to see, as
suming you were sure no one was home.
He started around the house. The Morgan place had begun life as a classic Pennsylvania double-plank farmhouse, but succeeding generations had added on as the family became larger. And more prominent.
He could spot no signs of anyone coming near the house this way, but when he reached the rear, there were too many. Obviously plenty of vehicles had been in and out in the past few days because of the wedding. It was impossible to separate out any tracks that had been made today.
Trying the kitchen door, he discovered without surprise that it was unlocked. Geneva drove Trey crazy with her carelessness about safety. He’d installed a security system at one point, but after several dozen false alarms caused by Geneva’s habit of forgetting to shut the thing off, he’d given up on that.
The kitchen seemed bright and welcoming on even a gray day, with its pale yellow walls and warm wood cabinets. Adam rested a hand on the pine table where he’d had more meals than he could count. Geneva had always acted as if he were half-starved when he was a kid, which had more truth in it than she’d probably known.
The old man hadn’t wanted to waste money on food when it could be better spent, according to him, on drink. Adam’s jaw tightened, and he yanked his attention back to the present.
A basket sat on the counter, the casserole dish it contained covered with a napkin. So maybe a neighbor had been in, and that had been the sound Libby heard.
Libby appeared in the kitchen door. “Did you find anything?” She looked more like herself now, in blue jeans and with her damp hair fastened at the nape of her neck, but she still had a brittle edge that concerned him.
“Too much traffic in and out with the wedding,” he said. He nodded toward the basket. “It looks as if a neighbor might have been here. Maybe that was what you heard.” He suspected that wouldn’t satisfy her.
It didn’t…he could see that from her expression even before she spoke.
“Then what happened to my computer? A neighbor delivering a casserole wouldn’t be likely to touch that.”
“Computers do crash,” he said mildly.
