by Marta Perry
A tall figure loomed next to hers in the glass. “Planning a break-in?” Adam asked.
“Of course not.” She jerked back from the window, hoping her face didn’t give her away at his echoing her thoughts. Adam had a remarkably piercing gaze when he wanted to.
He raised an eyebrow. “So what are you doing? This doesn’t look like your kind of place.”
She responded in kind. “My kind of place? What is my kind of place?”
She’d actually succeeded in disturbing that stoic facade. His eyes flickered.
“Anything other than an empty construction company office,” he said.
She shrugged. “I’m just a hardworking photojournalist. I’ve been in a lot worse places, believe me.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer the question of what you’re doing here.” He folded his arms across the front of his heavy uniform jacket and leaned against the doorjamb, apparently ready to stay there as long as it took.
“Link remembered something this morning,” she said abruptly, then realized Adam still might not know what she was talking about. “You remember what we discussed last night…trying to think what Esther could have wanted to see me about.”
He nodded. “You said it had to be something that would affect both Amish and English.”
So he did remember. “I still think that. And this morning Link told me about that new motel Tom Sylvester is building, and how he’d snatched the land away from some Amish farmers who wanted it. And that no one could understand why the planning commission had given him permission to build there—”
“What would be Esther’s involvement with that?” His cool tone dumped water on her enthusiasm.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I thought it was worth looking into. Do you know how he got that project okayed?”
He shrugged. “Not my business. That’s why we have a planning commission.”
“I would have found out. I’d want to know.” She preferred to believe it was reporter’s instinct rather than rampant curiosity.
“So you planned to tackle Tom at his office and demand answers?”
Again with the raised eyebrow. That was beginning to seriously annoy her.
“Actually, I stopped at the site and had a look around first. And I had a rather unpleasant encounter with a workman.”
“You were snooping around a construction site? Libby, don’t you have any sense? You could have been hurt.”
“I was perfectly safe, except maybe from the worker or watchman or whatever he was. He told me to stay away or I’d get hurt, and from him, that sounded like a threat.”
Adam blew out a breath of what was probably exasperation. “I might do the same, if I caught a stray female snooping around a construction area.”
Her temper rose. “That’s a sexist remark, Chief Byler. Better watch it.”
She watched in fascination as he obviously tried to control himself. Was she actually about to see stoic Adam lose his temper?
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Just leave the investigating to me, will you?”
“How can I?” All of her frustration and worry seemed to boil over. “How can I, when you’re not willing to take my suspicions seriously? Maybe you’re too afraid to make waves—”
She didn’t finish that sentence, not that she even wanted to, because Adam grabbed her arm and hustled her into the police car that sat at the curb. He got in after her.
She managed to catch her breath once he’d let her go. She turned, so that she could see his face. “Are you going to arrest me for being annoying?”
The corner of his mouth twitched before he got it under control. “If I were arresting you, you’d be in the backseat. That was not a conversation I wanted to have on a public street. Do you want your suspicions all over the township by nightfall?”
“No.” She took a breath. “Sorry.”
Adam turned sideways in the seat so that he was facing her. Facing her and way too close to her in the confines of the police car. Her pulse skittered, and her breath seemed to get caught in her throat. He wasn’t touching her, but he might as well have been, given the way she was reacting.
Get a grip, she ordered herself, but the words didn’t seem to help much. Even Link had noticed the sparks between her and Adam, and Link wasn’t the most observant person in the world when it came to emotions.
She’d basically thrown herself at Adam, back when they were in high school, acting on the crush she’d had on him. And he’d responded, just for an instant, before he made her feel like a fool.
Then all the talk had started about him and Sally, and she’d been only too eager to believe it, because it meant she could tell herself she hated him with a clear conscience. And when she had found out the truth, her apologies had led to a moment so real, so true, that she’d been sure they loved each other, right up until the moment he’d walked out. Or run out, more likely.
She still didn’t understand what happened that night. They’d both been old enough to know what they were doing by then. He’d stopped to see her when he was in the city for some police seminar; she’d invited him to dinner and they’d spent hours talking and reminiscing. When they’d kissed, it had seemed something that was always meant to happen. But apparently she was the only one who thought that.
Did Adam sense her emotions? For a moment he seemed almost confused. Unsure of himself, and Adam was never unsure. He knew his duty and he did it.
He shook his head slightly. “Libby, this is an ongoing police investigation. I can’t discuss the particulars with you, but I promise I’m not ignoring any possibilities. If there is something else behind Esther’s hit-and-run, I’ll find it.”
His sincerity grabbed her by the heart.
“Please, Libby.” His fingers closed over hers, and she couldn’t breathe. “Trust me to deal with this. Will you?”
She couldn’t speak. She nodded.
Apparently satisfied, Adam let go of her. She shot out of the car, knowing it looked as if she was running and not caring.
“Libby.” He lowered the window to speak. “About your camera—it wasn’t in my car. Do you want to file a stolen item report?”
“No, that’s okay.” She didn’t want to do anything that would keep her in his company a minute longer.
She raised her hand in a wave, trying to manage a smile, and walked quickly to her own car. She trusted Adam. She’d trust him with her life.
But that wasn’t what was at stake. She couldn’t leave this alone. Esther was counting on her.
* * *
THE QUIET HOSPITAL floor seemed safe and insulated when Libby reached it. Insulated—that was a nice feeling. Now if only she could be insulated from her own feelings, she might find the balance she needed to deal with this situation. Esther was important now, not the fruitless emotion she thought she’d buried years ago.
That was the trouble with coming home, maybe. It showed you too clearly all the things you’d been able to ignore out in the world.
She pushed open the door to Esther’s room. She had time for no more than a quick glance at Esther, still motionless, before Rebecca rushed to her. Grasped her, poured out a flood of words in a mix of English and Pennsylvania Dutch so scrambled that Libby couldn’t make out a thing.
Libby caught Rebecca’s hands in hers, heart thudding with fear. “Rebecca, what is it? Calm down and talk to me. Is it bad news about Esther?”
“Ach, no.” Rebecca seemed to make a major effort to control herself. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I am chust so glad to see someone I can tell.”
“Tell what?” Libby’s fear ebbed slowly. “If it’s not Esther…”
“No, no. She is better today, I think. Her color is better, ain’t so? And she hears me when I talk to her, I am sure. Don’t you see it?”
Rebecca was looking at her so anxiously that Libby couldn’t bring herself to say that Esther seemed much the same as yesterday to her. “I’m sure you’re right,” she s
aid. She clasped Rebecca’s hand and led her to a chair, sitting down next to her.
“Now, tell me what has you so upset.”
Rebecca put her fingers to her lips. “Maybe…I didn’t know if I should say anything. But I knew when you came, I could tell you, for sure.”
Another little nail of guilt. She’d been playing detective when Rebecca was longing for her to be here.
“You can tell me anything.”
Rebecca nodded. “Ja. I know.” She patted Libby’s hand. “It was in the night. Right around four in the morning.” She pointed to the clock on the wall above the television set. “I looked after he was gone.”
Rebecca’s method of telling the story would try the patience of a saint. “After who was gone? Tell me from the beginning.”
Rebecca took a deep breath, seeming to organize her thoughts. “I had been talking to Esther. The nurse said she might be able to hear my voice and be comforted, even if she could not respond. But I was so tired. I fell asleep.”
The guilt in Rebecca’s face touched her heart. Libby knew that feeling. “That’s only natural. You can’t stay awake all the time. You must get some rest.”
Rebecca nodded, but she seemed to be looking inward, as if reliving something in her mind. “I woke. Opened my eyes. Someone was standing over our Esther. He had a pillow in his hands. I was afraid.”
At the bald words, Libby was suddenly afraid, too. “Who was it?”
Rebecca shook her head, paling. “I could not say. He wore those clothes the hospital people wear.”
“His face? His hair?”
“He had a kind of cap over his hair, and a mask, like the surgeon had. But I know he was English, not Amish.”
“How can you be sure?” She tried to visualize it. Someone in hospital garb—a nurse or orderly on some legitimate errand? But the pillow frightened her. She was imagining the pillow pressed against Esther’s face….
“No beard,” Rebecca said simply.
Of course. The beard would show, even in such a disguise.
“Maybe it was a hospital worker, trying to make her more comfortable.” Somehow she found that hard to believe.
“I made some sound. Asked what he was doing. He threw the pillow down and went out.”
Surely anyone on legitimate business wouldn’t do that. Still, sometimes people didn’t know how to act around the Amish. They thought, as that doctor had, that an Amish person might not understand English, or sometimes even that the Amish were stupid because of their way of life.
“Did you call the nurse? Tell anyone what happened?”
Rebecca put her fingers to her lips again. “I rang for the nurse. I told her, but she said no one had been in. That I must have been dreaming.” She raised a troubled gaze to Libby’s face. “I wasn’t. Someone was here.”
“I believe you.” She patted Rebecca’s hand. “I’m going to call Adam Byler.”
“The police?” Concern filled her face. “We do not go to the police.”
Libby had to suppress her frustration at this typically Amish response. The Amish didn’t count on civil authorities to settle their problems. But this wasn’t a situation that could be resolved by the church family or the bishop.
“The police are already involved, Rebecca.” She kept her tone calm and firm. “There’s no way to keep them out. It’s Adam Byler’s job to find the person who did this to Esther and to protect her from harm.”
“I don’t know what the bishop would say…”
“I’m sure Bishop Amos would agree with me on this.” She wasn’t, really, but she had a high regard for Bishop Amos’s common sense. “Besides, you’re not calling the police. I am.”
That seemed to satisfy Rebecca. She nodded, looking relieved at having someone else take the responsibility, and sank back in the chair.
Libby started to pull her cell phone out of her bag, remembered the ban on cell phones in this area, and went to the room phone instead. Her fingers hesitated for a moment. After those moments in the car with him, Adam was the last person she wanted to see right now. But she didn’t have a choice. She dialed the number of Adam’s cell.
Adam answered on the first ring, and she toyed briefly with the notion that he’d been expecting her call.
“Adam? It’s Libby.” She made an effort to keep the words steady.
“What’s wrong?” He must know her voice too well to be fooled.
“I’m at the hospital.” She glanced at Rebecca, who was watching her anxiously. Best to keep this brief. “Something happened last night that could have been serious. Can you come?”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Never one to waste time on useless words, he disconnected.
Twenty minutes could seem like a very long time when you spent it trying to convince an Amish person that it really was all right to talk to the police. Libby reminded herself of all the reasons why Rebecca’s attitude was understandable. The Amish had endured terrible persecution from the authorities in the old country, and they had long memories. They trusted in God, not in other people, especially not Englischers wearing uniforms and carrying guns.
Finally the door swung open, and Adam was there.
Libby’s breath caught. She had fallen in love with Adam Byler when she was fifteen. Despite everything that had happened since, no matter how they’d grown or changed, it seemed she’d never managed to fall back out again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIBBY WAS LOOKING at him with an expression Adam couldn’t interpret. He froze for an instant. He’d have said he knew every mood that flickered across her face, but maybe he was wrong.
He stood for a moment as straight as if he were on the parade ground and then moved toward the women, assessing the emotional temperature of the room.
Esther looked much the same as she had the previous day—immobile, pale save for the bruises that marred her face. Rebecca touched her daughter’s hand, her gaze sliding away from his. Whatever had brought him here, he suspected he’d hear most of it from Libby, not from Rebecca.
A folding chair leaned against the wall. He took it, opened it and sat down, giving Rebecca a moment to become used to his presence.
“Not an emergency, I guess.” He glanced again toward Esther, silent on the white bed.
Libby stiffened as if he’d criticized her for calling him, and he wanted to bite his tongue. Why did he always get off on the wrong foot with her?
“Not an emergency,” she repeated. “But serious. During the night, something happened that frightened Rebecca.”
When he shifted his focus to Rebecca, Libby spoke quickly.
“She’d like me to tell you, and then she’ll answer any questions you have.”
Annoying as it was to have Libby acting as intermediary, he appreciated the delicate balance that was contained in her suggestion. Rebecca wouldn’t have called him. No Amish woman in her position would have—that was a foregone conclusion. It was only with Libby to smooth the way that he’d hear this story at all.
“Good idea,” he said, trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible. “I have no problem handling it that way.”
He did, of course. He wanted Libby out of this situation—far, far out of it. Hadn’t she just agreed to leave the investigation to him not an hour ago? He should have known better than to think that would happen.
Libby seemed to take a moment to organize her thoughts. “Rebecca was sitting with Esther last night. She dropped off to sleep, and when she woke, a man in hospital scrubs, his face and hair covered, was leaning over Esther with a pillow in his hands.”
Libby was obviously trying to keep her voice calm, but he could read the tension in it easily enough.
“Rebecca spoke, and the man tossed the pillow aside and rushed out of the room.” She stopped, maybe waiting for his response.
“It could have been someone on a legitimate errand.” But he didn’t like that image of the man hurrying away when Rebecca spoke.
“Rebecca called the nurse and ask
ed. The nurse claimed no one was in here. Rebecca couldn’t identify him…his clothes, face and hair were covered. But he was English.”
Rebecca nodded at that, and then lowered her gaze to her hands, clasping them in her lap.
He had to force himself to lean back, giving Rebecca plenty of space before he addressed her directly. “Mrs. Zook, did you notice anything else about the man? Hair color, eye color?”
She shook her head. A brief glimpse in the night, the lights dimmed—he could fill in the reasons for himself.
“What about his shoes? Could you see them?”
Rebecca frowned, as if trying to see the image in her mind. “He had something over them…” Her hands moved, as if trying to trace an amorphous shape. “Soft, like baby booties, it was.”
This character hadn’t missed a trick. Those elaborate precautions convinced him more than anything that this was serious.
He studied Rebecca’s face for a long moment. She was exhausted, and he had enough sense to know that he’d get nothing more from her. The whole episode probably hadn’t taken more than a minute or two.
He slid back his chair, rising. “Thank you, Mrs. Zook. Denke.” She had a faint smile for his use of the Pennsylvania Dutch word. “I’ll go and have a word with the nursing staff.”
Libby followed him to the door, as he’d known she would.
“You can’t tell me this wasn’t serious.” Her expression dared him to argue the point.
“Take it easy, Libby. I agree with you.”
That seemed to disarm her, at least for the moment. “I just don’t understand.” Her voice held anguish. “What could make someone take such desperate measures against Esther, of all people?”
He didn’t have an answer to that. “Let’s do this a step at a time. We can’t get at why before we know who.”
Libby nodded, some of the pain ebbing away from her face.
He’d guess, by the determined set to her chin, that Libby intended to follow him right out to the nurses’ station to make sure he investigated properly. He could be just as determined, but guile might serve him better at the moment.
“Rebecca’s exhausted,” he said softly, glancing at the woman. “Can’t you persuade her to sleep, or at least lie down, now that you can stay with Esther until some other family member arrives?”
