by Marta Perry
He broke off whatever he was saying at the sight of her. “Look who’s rejoined the land of the conscious. How do you feel?”
“Fine.” Her voice was husky, and her neck hurt when she talked. She waved that consideration away. “What’s been happening? Is Esther all right?”
“She’s perfectly safe.” Her mother shooed her into a chair. “What do you feel like eating? Soup? I have chicken soup on the stove, and Mary Esch brought over a potpie this morning, if you’d rather have that.”
Neighbors brought food in time of trouble. Everyone knew that.
“Soup sounds great, Mom.” Obviously her mother would only be happy if she could feed her little chick. “But what about Esther? Is the guard still there?”
“Only at night,” Link said. “Don’t worry. Marisa is there now. I made her promise the cell phone wouldn’t be out of her hand.”
“Are the Zooks okay with that?” After all, Link’s fiancée must be a stranger to them.
“They’ve made her very welcome,” Link said. “After all, Marisa’s mother was Amish. As far as they’re concerned, she’s almost kin.”
Of course. She’d forgotten, for a moment, the discovery of Marisa’s long-missing Amish mother, buried on Morgan land.
“I could go back to the farm—” she began.
“You’ll do no such thing,” her mother snapped. She shook her head, looking a little tearful. “Sorry. But you need to get feeling better first. Marisa and I will take turns until then.”
Given that she had about as much strength as a six-week-old kitten, that was probably for the best, much as she hated to admit it. She took a spoonful of the soup, easing it down her still-swollen throat. “Has Adam found out anything?”
“Not much.” Link frowned. “This character is either very lucky or very careful. There weren’t any identifiable fingerprints.”
“Even an amateur would know enough to wear gloves, with all those forensics shows on television,” Mom said. She set a mug of tea in front of Libby and a wedge of cake in front of Link.
“No fair,” Libby protested. “Don’t I get cake?”
Her mother smiled at the feeble joke. “After you eat all your soup,” she said.
“I’ve been causing you a lot of worry. I’m sorry.” The words came out impulsively, but she was glad she’d voiced them.
“I guess I should get used to my children finding trouble.” Mom divided a smile between the two of them. “But I can’t not worry, even when I know you’re doing what’s right.”
“You and Dad didn’t raise a bunch of wimps.” Link’s tone was teasing, but he clasped Mom’s hand for a moment.
Libby’s thoughts had skipped in another direction. Rebecca’s children had been raised to do what was right, as well, but for them, that right included a firm injunction against violence.
“Is Isaac in trouble with the church for allowing the guard there at night?” He’d looked so young and frightened when she’d stumbled screaming from the stable.
“There’s some criticism,” her mother said. “But Bishop Amos says it’s not wrong to let the Englisch police deal with an Englisch criminal, so I hope that will set the matter to rest.”
Libby fidgeted in the chair. She must be a glutton for punishment, because she wanted to be right back in the thick of things.
“I wonder if Adam has—”
“Adam is doing a thorough job,” Link said firmly. “He knows more about police work than you do. Just sit still and let him do his job.”
“Right. Like you did when Marisa was in trouble,” she retorted.
“That was different.” Finishing his cake, Link shoved his chair back. “Well, maybe it wasn’t, but what do you think you could do that Adam isn’t?”
“I don’t know…. Wait a minute, yes, I do.” The idea took root in her mind. “Someone ought to take an actual look at that resort Eli Bredbenner has been getting the Amish to invest in. It’s not that far to Maryland. I could drive there in a couple of hours.”
“Elizabeth Morgan, you’re doing no such thing.” Mom sounded scandalized at the thought.
Link reached for his jacket, grinning. “You’d better hide all the car keys, Mom. Relax, Libby. I’m sure Adam has thought of that, and he told me he’s been in touch with someone at the state level to look into that scheme. You’ll just mess things up if you jump into it.”
She subsided, glaring at him. “Maybe. But I don’t see what harm it would do to take a look.”
“Stay home and let Mom pamper you for a while.” Link dropped a kiss on top of her head. “And put some ice on that shiner. The way it looks, you’d scare small children and dogs.”
Libby threw her napkin at him. “Not dogs, anyway.” She patted her knee, and Sam ambled over and rested his big head on her lap.
Link laughed, going out.
“It’s not that bad,” Mom said, tilting Libby’s head to look at the bruise. “And you will take it easy, won’t you, dear?”
“I will.” She couldn’t very well do anything else at the moment.
But tomorrow…tomorrow she’d feel better, and everyone would stop fussing over her.
And if no one else had done it, she could take a drive down to Maryland and see for herself.
* * *
LIBBY COUNTED THE hours until she was finally alone in the house the next day. Link had gone to work, and Mom had left for the Zook farm early, obviously eager to take Libby’s place.
She ought to feel guilty, making her mother think she was going to stay quietly in the house today. Still, what good would it do to have Mom worrying about her? With any luck, the rental car she’d ordered would arrive shortly. She could drive to Maryland and be back before Mom got home.
Not bad rationalization. The trouble was that it didn’t alleviate her guilt.
She hurried downstairs, laying out her jacket, handbag and camera bag in readiness for the car’s arrival.
One good thing had come of her enforced idleness yesterday. She’d uploaded all the photos she’d taken recently and started editing them. Happy pictures from the reception, serene photos from the Zook farm.
Somehow the images had brought her more pleasure than any she’d taken in a long time. No one had been looking over her shoulder, rushing the photos from camera to page. She could take her time, editing them until they satisfied her artist’s eye.
A vehicle appeared, coming down the driveway, winter sunshine reflecting from the windshield. Libby pulled on her jacket, grabbed the bags and hurried out, locking the door behind her.
The vehicle pulled to a stop at the base of the porch steps. Not the rental car at all—it was Adam’s car, with Adam at the wheel.
At any other time she’d be delighted to see him so she could pump him about the investigation, but not now. Not with the rental car due to drive up at any moment. That would precipitate questions she didn’t want to answer.
Adam got out and came around the car. Instead of approaching her, he opened the passenger-side door. “Your ride to Maryland is ready,” he said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LIBBY COULD ONLY stare at Adam for a moment. “How did you know?”
“Link stormed into the diner last night and interrupted the only hot meal I’ve had in days,” Adam said. “Oddly enough, he was convinced you were going to take off to check out Hidden Valley Resort all by yourself. I told him you wouldn’t be foolish enough to do that. But here you are.”
“There’s nothing foolish about it,” she snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself to Maryland.”
“Maybe so, but you’re not going to.” His tone was implacable. “Get in the car, Libby. Trust me, this is the only way you’re getting down there today.”
She’d ask how he expected to prevent her, but something about the way he was looking at her made her decide against that. Not speaking, she walked to the car and got in.
She didn’t say anything until they were out on the road. Then she pulled her phone from her bag.
“I’ll have to cancel the car I had ordered. They’ll probably make me pay for the day anyway.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I won’t charge you anything for the trip.”
She snapped the phone open and called the car rental company.
Once she’d returned the phone to her bag, she glanced at him. “What were you going to do if I refused? Lock me up?”
“That’s what your brother suggested,” Adam said.
“I’ll get even with him,” she said darkly. “I guess I should be glad you’re willing to investigate the place.”
“Believe it or not, I intended to do that. I’m not ignoring this business of the investments. Just because Eli Bredbenner is Amish, that doesn’t guarantee he’s not a crook. In fact—”
He cut that off, instantly arousing her curiosity.
“Well? What have you found out about it? You’re not going to hold out on me, are you?”
He removed his gaze from the road ahead to glance at her. “This is in confidence,” he said.
“I won’t say anything. Did you find out that it’s a scam?”
“Not that,” Adam said, his forehead furrowing. “A friend in the state police put me in touch with a guy in the justice department in Harrisburg.”
“And?”
“According to him, they had one person call in reference to this particular investment, asking how to file a complaint. But it never reached the formal complaint stage.”
“Does he know the person’s name?”
“No. But it was a woman.” Adam’s tone was expressionless.
“It must have been Esther.” Surely he saw that. “She’s probably the only woman in the community who would make such a call. She was worried about Isaac’s money, don’t you see? It all fits.”
“It fits, yes. But we don’t know that for sure. If we had a list of Eli’s investors, we’d be further along.”
“This man from the justice department—is he going to follow through?”
“After he heard what I had to say, he agreed that an investigation was warranted.” Adam glanced at her. “That doesn’t mean it will move fast. You think I’m cautious, but he’s a lawyer and a CPA. Caution squared.”
“Surely it can’t be that complicated. If Eli Bredbenner is cheating his investors…well, this resort either exists or it doesn’t.”
“That’s why I agreed to this little road trip,” Adam said. “Remember?”
She had to admit, Adam was doing all he could on that front, but she burned with impatience to move faster. She touched her neck. Someone was getting desperate.
“We have Esther protected.” His deep voice comforted her. “We’ll get to the truth.”
“I know.” She glanced at him, but his face was impassive behind the sunglasses that shielded his eyes. “What about Judge Waller? Have you found out why she helped Tom Sylvester with the zoning board?”
“I have.” His voice was short.
She watched his face, curious at what put that tone in his voice. “Are you going to tell me?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “There’s one thing you should know about being close to a cop. Sometimes they can’t talk about what they know.”
“If she used her influence to get him a variance…” She let that die off at the forbidding look on his face.
There was that word again. Influence. Did everything have to come down to that? Maybe she’d had too rosy a picture of her hometown.
“Will you be satisfied if I tell you that it had nothing at all to do with the attack on Esther?”
She’d like to demand answers, but unfortunately she knew he was right. He couldn’t talk about everything he discovered as a police officer. And maybe she really didn’t want to know other people’s dirty laundry.
“I’m satisfied. I trust your judgment.”
He shot her a look. “You really mean it this time?”
“Yes, I mean it.” Small wonder he doubted, after all the times she’d said she’d stay out of things and hadn’t. Including today, obviously.
Finally he looked at her again, as if studying her face. “You’re looking pretty beat-up.” His voice was gruff. “Try to sleep a little.”
In other words, he was signaling her that he didn’t want to talk any further. She leaned her head back against the headrest, watching him through half-closed lids, thinking about the boy he’d been and the man he’d grown into.
She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, growing up the way he had. She’d probably said a hundred insensitive things to him over the years.
The other night, when he’d kissed her and hadn’t pulled away, she’d actually thought they were making progress toward being something more than friends. But since the attack on her he’d withdrawn behind that stoic facade of his. Was it just a matter of not mixing their personal relationship with police business? Or was it more than that? She wanted to demand answers, but maybe she was afraid to risk it—afraid of what he might say.
Ironic, really. She’d begun to think she knew what she wanted from her life. A relationship with Adam. A chance to use her photography to share the joy of life instead of its pain, right here where she belonged.
But if Adam couldn’t get past the barriers he imagined existed between them, could she stay here? See him often, accept being nothing but friends?
She didn’t know. She closed her eyes, unable to keep looking at him.
She must have fallen asleep for a while, because the next thing she knew, Adam was nudging her awake.
“It looks like this is it.”
She sat up. The sign for the resort could use another coat of paint, and the lane that shot up the mountain a fresh layer of gravel.
“Are you sure?”
“The sign’s right, and according to my GPS, this is the place.” Adam pulled onto the gravel road and the car started to climb.
The lane wound through dense patches of woods and then into the open again. Around them, the smooth, rounded peaks of the Catoctin Mountains raised their heads. The ground was covered with snow here, unmarked and glistening.
The lane swung around the curve of the hillside and petered out to nothing more than a track at a gatepost she recognized from the brochure picture. Beyond it stood a crumbling log cabin and a few ramshackle outbuildings.
“So.” There was a note of satisfaction in Adam’s voice. “I guess we know now, don’t we?”
Libby nodded. “No lake, no lodge, no cabins. The resort doesn’t exist.”
* * *
ADAM SLID OUT of the car, surveying the quiet mountainside. It was a beautiful spot, but as Libby said, it had none of the amenities the brochure had promised.
“You see?” Libby rounded the car to join him, her face tense with excitement. “This has to be what Esther was trying to tell me. Somehow she’d realized the investment was a scam. She must have wanted my advice on how to proceed.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Because you know so much about investment fraud?”
“No, because she couldn’t bring herself to go to the police,” Libby snapped back. “She’d have expected that I’d consult with Trey probably, or even have gone to Leo Frost for her. And somehow Bredbenner found out and decided to silence her.”
That was Libby, jumping ahead to conclusions. She was a lot more like Geneva than either of them could see.
“An Amish man, driving a black van,” he said.
His commonsense tone didn’t seem to deter her any. She waved his comment away. “It’s not any more unlikely than an Amish person creating a scheme like this to begin with. And we know he’s done that.”
His instincts told him she was probably right on target, but the law didn’t operate on instinct. “We still don’t know exactly what Bredbenner promised his investors. It’s possible the photos on the brochure are meant to represent what the resort will look like when it’s finished. If so, and if he can show he’s making a good-faith effort to build what he’s promised, I’m not sure we’
d have a case of fraud.”
“I should have tried to get more information from Isaac.” Her forehead wrinkled. “But I didn’t want to cause trouble with Rebecca for having told me. I do know Bredbenner told them the place would be open this spring. That’s not likely, is it?” She gestured toward the ramshackle buildings.
“No, not likely. At least this should get the justice department moving. I don’t suppose you have a camera, do you?”
Her smile flashed. “Of course I have a camera.” She darted back to the car, reappearing a moment later with a camera bag. “What do you want shots of?”
“Anything and everything,” he said. “Enough to show that no improvements have been made.” He nodded toward the log cabin. “I’m going to check inside.”
He watched Libby move off, her expression intent as she adjusted camera settings. Then he strode to the cabin. He was prepared to do a little housebreaking if he had to, but the door wasn’t locked. That argued he wouldn’t find anything of value, but he had to look.
The furnishings were sparse—a few broken chairs, a scarred kitchen table, a bureau against one wall. Clearly no one had lived here in a long time, if ever.
The bureau was the only place where anything could be stored. He pulled open a drawer, disclosing some faded newspapers and a few mouse droppings. Through the dirty front windows he glimpsed Libby’s red anorak, bright against the snow. He shouldn’t have brought her along, but short of locking her in a cell, he didn’t know how he’d have stopped her.
He knelt, pulling out the bottom drawer. Nothing. He’d have to—
The shot was obscenely loud, shattering the mountain stillness into a thousand echoes. He was at the door in seconds, weapon in his hand, heart beating so loudly it thundered in his ears. Libby—
He bolted outside. Saw her—facedown on the ground, red anorak like blood against the snow. His heart stopped entirely.
He ran to her, gaze searching for the shooter’s location even as every fiber of his being focused on Libby.
