by Marta Perry
Another shot, wide of him, a flash of movement giving away the shooter’s location some hundred yards off in the woods. Adam squeezed off a couple of shots and dropped to the ground, grabbing Libby. Had to get her to safety, see where she was hit—
Then he realized she was struggling in his grip, fighting him, and thankfulness swept over him in a tidal wave of relief.
“You’re alive. Can you walk?” He crouched over her, shielding her with his body, alert for any movement from the woods.
“I can if you get off me,” she muttered, sounding reassuringly normal.
“When I roll free, you run for the car. Get inside and on the floor, you hear? Don’t stop.”
“But you—”
“I’ll be right behind you,” he lied. “Just go. Ready?”
He felt her body tense as she gathered herself to move. “Yes.”
“Go.” He rolled off her, weapon steadied in both hands as he pulled off a volley of shots toward a flash of movement in the trees. He spared a quick glance at Libby. Good, she’d reached the car.
Jumping to his feet he bolted after her, his back muscles tense as he prepared for a shot. None came. Maybe he’d scared the guy off. Maybe.
He dived into the car, shoving Libby to the floor. He turned the ignition. Libby popped back up, and he shoved her down again.
“Stay down,” he barked. He threw the gearshift into Reverse, backing until he reached the lane. Grabbed the door as it swung wide, slammed it and shot off down the narrow road.
The shooter had been using a rifle. Adam sent the car bucketing down the lane. He didn’t dare stop. They reached the main road and he swung out on it, narrowly missing a truck headed the other way. Around several bends—the shooter couldn’t possibly spot them here. He pulled into a farm lane and hit the brakes.
“Where are you hit?” He reached for Libby, helping her up into the seat, running his hands down her arms.
“I’m not.” She pushed his hands away and brushed snow off the front of her jacket. “I’m fine.”
“Then why were you lying in the snow?” Relief made his voice harsh.
“That first shot barely missed me. Playing possum seemed like a good idea.” Libby managed to smile, but her face was pale and the fear hadn’t entirely vanished from her eyes.
“I thought—” He stopped. He couldn’t betray his feelings.
Not now, not ever. This was how he repaid the Morgan family for all their kindness, nearly getting Libby killed not once, but twice.
“Put your seat belt on,” he said, pulling out his cell phone.
She grabbed the belt to pull it over and frowned at his phone. “What are you doing?”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “We just got shot at, remember? I have to report it.”
“But it had to be Bredbenner. Who else would care if we were snooping around up there? Although—” A thought gave her pause. “How would he have known we were coming here?”
“Given that your brother blurted it out in the diner last night, almost anyone might have heard it by now.”
“So Bredbenner found out and tried to stop us. You surely don’t want to bring the Maryland police into this.”
“I don’t have a choice. I’m out of my jurisdiction. I fired my weapon. I can’t just drive away and pretend it didn’t happen.”
“But—” A hundred objections seemed to bubble in Libby’s voice.
“Listen,” he said sharply before she could get going. “This is what we’re going to say. I’m collecting information for a complaint to the justice department about a possible scam centered in my jurisdiction. You’re the complainant, and I brought you to have a look at the site. I shouldn’t have done any such thing, but if we stick to that, maybe we can brush by without getting too involved. Understand?”
Libby looked a bit mutinous, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.”
Adam returned to the phone. All he wanted to do now was get through this as quickly as possible and get Libby safely back to her family.
* * *
LIBBY COULDN’T RELAX, even once their business with the local police was finished and they were on their way back to Lancaster County.
“Are you sure Esther is well-protected? Someone reckless enough to shoot at us might be in such a panic that he’d attempt to get to her in broad daylight.”
Adam didn’t take his gaze from the road. “I’ve sent someone to stand guard around the clock from now on. No one is going to get near her.”
Adam sounded as if he were trying to control his impatience. He was completely focused on the job at hand, so focused that he seemed to forget she was there.
It probably didn’t help that she had a tendency to babble when she was upset. At least she’d managed to contain that quality during their interview with the county sheriff.
The man had probably suspected that there was more to the story than they were saying, but he’d let them leave at last, with a few caustic comments on proper police protocol. Adam’s stoic face had seldom been more in evidence.
She glanced at him. Hands tight on the wheel, lips clamped together, he looked as remote and distant as the blue ridge of mountains receding behind them. He was eager to get on with the job. That was natural enough, but she wasn’t imagining the size of the wall he’d built between them. It had been bad enough after the attack on her in the stable. Now it seemed completely impenetrable. The moments when they’d kissed might never have been.
They’d nearly reached Springville before Adam roused himself from his abstraction and looked at her. “I’ll take you home. Then I have to meet with the district attorney.”
“You may as well drop me at the Zook farm. It isn’t any farther, and my mother will still be there.”
To her surprise, he didn’t argue. Maybe he figured she’d be safer at the Zooks’, with plenty of people around, than at home alone.
She stared out the window at the passing farms, most with smoke curling from their chimneys. Somehow, she had to find the words that would break through the barrier between them. If she didn’t succeed now, with that memory of their narrow escape so fresh, she probably never would.
Adam stopped behind the patrol car in the Zook driveway, keeping the motor running, obviously impatient for her to get out. She turned to him, longing to reach him and not knowing how.
“Adam…how do I thank you? You saved my life today.”
His gaze met hers, his eyes darkening. His hand lifted toward her face, and the air seemed to thicken until she could barely take a breath.
Abruptly his hand dropped. His expression closed. “I was the one who risked your life. Remember?”
She could feel him slipping away. This wasn’t the perfect time, but if not now, when?
“Please, Adam, listen to me. I know I’m not imagining things. We have feelings for each other.”
He was shaking his head, but she rushed on, afraid to let him speak.
“Look, I’m not that fifteen-year-old girl any longer. I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want.”
“Not me.” The words were as sharp as a slap. “I owe your family everything. I can’t do this. You’re out of my reach, and even if you weren’t, I’ve nearly let you get killed twice.” His lips twisted with what she thought was pain. “That’s enough to convince me to stay away from you.”
Grief formed a hard, cold ball inside her.
“This isn’t about my family. Whatever you think they did for you—don’t you know how much they love and respect you?”
“Libby…” He turned away, shaking his head.
Over. That’s all she could think. It was over.
“The problem isn’t what anyone else thinks of you, Adam. It never has been, even back in high school. It’s what you think of yourself.” Her voice choked on the edge of tears. “If you can’t get past that, there’s nothing anyone else can do.”
She groped for the door handle, found it and stumbled out of the car.
CHAPT
ER TWENTY
THE LINEUP of official vehicles in the driveway of an Amish home had a disconcerting appearance. Eli Bredbenner’s house proved to be a modest ranch-style house on the outskirts of Paradise. Adam hadn’t even reached the front porch yet, but already cars were slowing on the road, drivers peering at them, and a woman stared from the picture window of the house next door.
“You should make the initial approach, Chief Byler.” Quinton Foster, the new district attorney, glanced at the state investigator for confirmation. “You have a better rapport with the Amish than anyone else here.”
The anyone else, in addition to Foster and James Donato, the state investigator, included two state police officers. At a signal from Donato, they hung back by their vehicle. This was a balancing act between jurisdictions and departments, and fortunately everyone was treading lightly at the moment. He’d seen this sort of thing go badly in the past, as people jockeyed for position.
With a brief nod, he stepped up to the front door and knocked, his muscles tense. He wouldn’t normally expect trouble from an Amish household, but if half what they believed was true, Eli Bredbenner was not the average Amish person.
A shade twitched on the front window. A few seconds later, the door opened a careful two inches, and a woman’s face appeared.
Scared, that was his first thought. Her faded blue eyes were round with shock.
“Mrs. Bredbenner?”
“Ja, I am Mary Bredbenner. Was ist letz?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. No point in escalating the situation any sooner than he had to. “I’m Adam Byler, from over in Springville. I’d like to speak to your husband.”
“Eli’s not here.” She looked as if she’d like to close the door on him but didn’t quite dare.
“It’s important that we speak to him. Do you know where he is?” To say nothing of where he’d been earlier in the day.
She shook her head, and the hand on the door trembled. “He did not say.”
“When did he leave?” Adam could sense the restlessness of the men behind him, but he wasn’t about to rush this.
“Early,” she said. Worry furrowed her forehead. “He went early. I do not know when he will be back.”
Donato moved a step closer. “We’re wasting time. Explain about the search warrant.”
The woman’s gaze swiveled to Donato and back to Adam, and he wasn’t sure how much of that she’d understood.
“This paper is a search warrant.” Adam showed it to her. “It gives us the right to look through your husband’s papers. We have to come in.”
She clung to the door a moment longer, and then she stepped back, holding it wide so that they could enter. Donato beckoned to the state troopers.
Five big men made a crowd in the small, neat living room of the house. “I’m sorry for the disturbance, Mrs. Bredbenner.” Adam nodded to the sofa. “Suppose you just sit there while we have a look around.”
She nodded, eyes downcast. Then she darted a quick glance at his face. “Is Eli in trouble, then?”
“What makes you say that, Mrs. Bredbenner?” Quinton Foster seemed to find his voice. “Has Eli been doing something wrong?”
She shook her head slowly. “I do not know anything about Eli’s business.”
Adam gave Foster a warning glance. The woman’s words might or might not be true, but antagonizing the Amish community by pressing the woman wouldn’t do either of them any good.
“Looks as if Bredbenner does most of his work in here,” Donato said. He’d walked into the adjoining room—probably intended for a dining room, it contained a gray metal desk and filing cabinets, along with a folding table littered with papers. “We’ll start here.”
The troopers carried cardboard file boxes into the room and set them on the floor. One of them reached for the papers on the card table.
“Don’t touch anything,” Donato snapped. “Not until I tell you to.”
Face expressionless, the trooper stepped back.
Donato obviously knew what he was looking for. Adam had no objection to leaving him to it. He moved to a rocking chair near the couch.
“May I sit down, Mrs. Bredbenner?”
At her nod, he drew the rocker a little closer and sat.
“Eli will be upset.” Her hands twisted together. “He never lets me touch his papers.”
“He’ll understand that you couldn’t stop us,” Adam said. “You have to obey the law.”
She nodded, her tension easing a little.
“You said that Eli has been gone all day. Is that usual for him, to go away and not tell you where he’s going?”
“Sometimes,” she said, her voice soft. “When he has business to tend to.” She glanced at the clock. “But he’s usually home by now. I have supper almost ready.”
“Does Eli use a car when he’s off on business?” If Eli had been today’s shooter, he must have had transportation to Maryland.
She frowned, considering. “Sometimes he hires an Englisch driver.”
He’d hardly have hired a driver for the trip to Maryland with a loaded rifle. “Does Eli know how to drive?”
“No.” She looked shocked. “We follow the church rules. No cars.”
“He might have learned to drive when he was a teenager,” Adam suggested. “Plenty of kids do.”
“Well, ja, I suppose. But he wouldn’t drive now, not after joining the church.”
He wouldn’t cheat his neighbors, either, but he was obviously doing that.
The two troopers were moving through the rest of the house now, searching. Mrs. Bredbenner clenched her hands together. The thought of strange men looking through her belongings was obviously painful. Whether or not she knew anything about her husband’s activities, there were more painful times ahead of her.
“Will you come here for a moment, Chief?” Donato’s voice held a note of satisfaction.
Adam hurried into the other room, to find Foster peering over Donato’s shoulder at the sheaf of papers.
“He didn’t cover his tracks very well,” Donato said. “I’d say everything we’ll need to make a case is right here. And look at the sums of money involved. This was no nickel-and-dime operation.”
“Any indication of where the money is?” Somehow Adam didn’t think Eli would have put it in a bank.
Donato shook his head. “We’ll have to go through the property inch by inch.”
“He probably has it with him,” Foster said. He ran a hand over thinning fair hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Too bad we didn’t get onto him a couple of days earlier.” He glanced at Adam, as if considering where to fix the blame. “After assaulting an officer of the law, he’ll be on the run. Better get the machinery in motion to apprehend him.”
Adam nodded, mind ticking over the possibilities. The sooner they caught up with Eli Bredbenner, the better. At least, with him on the run, Esther was safe.
So why did he have this niggling feeling at the back of his mind that it wasn’t going to be as easy as that?
* * *
LIBBY TURNED FROM the window overlooking the Zook farmyard, forcing a smile for Esther.
“The children have found an icy spot perfect for sliding,” she said. “Would you like to see?”
Esther nodded. Then she frowned, as if impatient with herself. “Ja.” She articulated carefully. “I would.”
“Great.” Libby’s pleasure in the improvement of Esther’s speech momentarily eclipsed her grief over Adam. “Let’s have a look.” She wheeled Esther’s chair to the window, pulling a straight chair next to it for herself.
Esther leaned forward, smiling at the sight of the children in the yard below. The younger ones had discovered a spot where a strip of ice had formed, and they were taking turns getting a running start and seeing how far they could slide.
Esther actually laughed out loud as one of her nephews ended up facedown in the snow. She turned to Libby, eyes alert, looking like the old Esther. “Remember?” she said.
Libby nodded, her thoughts slipping back to a snowstorm so heavy that school had been closed for several days. The boys had created a snow fort—no girls allowed. So she and Esther had found a patch of black ice on the driveway and were busily enlarging it by pouring kettles of water on it when Dad found them, nearly falling in the process.
“I still say that would have made a perfect skating rink,” she said. “But I understand why the grown-ups didn’t agree.”
Esther pointed to her and then down to the children. “Try it,” she said.
“No, thanks.” Libby’s answering smile was a bit forced. Adam had been at the Morgan house that cold day, too. He’d helped to spread ice melt on the driveway.
Esther leaned forward, taking her hand. “What?”
“Nothing.” Libby tried to smile, but how convincing could she be when her heart felt as if someone had been using it for a punching bag?
Esther’s fingers gripped harder. “What?” she demanded.
“I’m being stupid about Adam.” She blinked, determined not to shed any more tears over the situation. “This…the accident, the investigation…it brought us close together. A second chance, I thought.” Her lips twisted despite her efforts to control them. “But Adam can’t get past this ridiculous idea that he’s not good enough for me. Stupid.”
“Ja, stupid,” Esther echoed. Her sympathy was so strong Libby could feel it—as if arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. “I am sorry. My fault.”
“Not your fault.” How could she think that? “The wedding would have thrown us together, even if not for the accident.”
“Accident.” Esther’s forehead puckered, as if she struggled to remember. “Not accident?” She made it a question, her look questioning.
“No, I don’t think so. It looks as if someone hit your buggy on purpose.” They still didn’t have proof that Eli Bredbenner was behind the attacks on Esther, but… “Did you find out something about Bredbenner’s investment scheme?” She held her breath, hoping she wasn’t doing the wrong thing by asking the question.
Esther’s frown deepened. “Eli…” She hesitated, and Libby had the sense that Esther was pressing her way through the clouds that surrounded the crash. “Not gut,” she managed. “Isaac wouldn’t listen.”
