by Marta Perry
Adam found he was staring at the brochure Donato held in his hand. Unsophisticated, Donato had said, and the word triggered a train of thought. There was something…a vague thought teased at the back of his mind.
He took the brochure from Donato, turning it over in his hands. “Tell me something,” he said abruptly. “In all the files you went through, did you see any hint that someone else might have been involved in this scam?”
Donato blinked. “A partner? No, not at all. What makes you say that?”
Adam held up the brochure. “You said it. Unsophisticated. And yet the glossy brochures, the prospectus, everything we’ve seen has been exactly the opposite.”
“That’s true,” Donato said slowly. “Some of the paperwork I went through was computer-generated, but there was no computer at the Bredbenner house.”
“No. There wasn’t.” Adam’s mind raced, fitting pieces together. “If Bredbenner had a non-Amish partner, it would answer a lot of questions—the production of the paperwork, the fact that vehicles were used in the attack on Esther Zook and the shooting in Maryland, the use of a cell phone in an attempt to decoy Libby Morgan out of the hospital room. All those things would be difficult for an Amish person.”
The reluctance faded from Donato’s face, and he rocked back and forth, toes to heels, as if he wanted to dart into movement. “That makes more sense than anything else we’ve run into in the case. But who? I’ve been through those files with the proverbial fine-tooth comb and I assure you, there’s no clue to another conspirator.”
“There has to be. We’re looking for someone familiar with the area and the people. Someone who came into contact with Bredbenner in some way. Someone who has the business savvy to mastermind a scheme like this.”
Donato listened, head on one side like a robin eyeing a worm. “That makes sense, but I don’t see how you’re going to find out who it was unless we get Bredbenner and he’s willing to give up his partner.”
Adam glanced at Bishop Amos. A small group had surrounded him, talking quietly, with Isaac and his wife and mother among them.
“There’s someone else who might be able to tell us. Esther Zook.”
Esther, who was back at the farm right now, with Libby and the children. And one of his officers, he reminded himself. Joe Carmody was there tonight, and he was a bright kid. He wouldn’t let anyone get near them.
Somehow that didn’t reassure him as much as it should. He yanked his cell phone from his pocket.
“Who are you calling?” Donato watched him, dark eyes curious.
“The officer on guard at the farm.” Adam punched in the numbers, not sure himself what was driving him, just knowing he had to be assured that everything was all right there.
The cell phone rang. And rang. And rang. No one answered. Something had happened to Carmody.
* * *
ESTHER SEEMED A little more tired than usual, so Libby had her tucked up in bed before eight. Once there, though, she wanted a pillow behind her back.
Libby settled her and sat down in the rocker next to the bed. “Okay now?”
Esther nodded. “The children?”
“Leah is getting the little ones to bed. Your mamm and Mary Ann went with Isaac to the meeting.”
There had been no point in trying to keep what was happening from Esther. And maybe knowing about it would help her remember.
A frown formed between Esther’s brows. “Wish I could be there. Could help.”
“You’ve already helped.” Libby clasped her hand. “Without you, they might never have known that Eli Bredbenner was cheating people.”
The frown deepened. “How could he cheat—” her hand moved restlessly as she searched for the word “—the Leit.” She’d resorted to the Pennsylvania Dutch word, but Libby knew it. The Leit. The People, the Amish.
“That’s what so hard on everyone,” Libby said. “Bishop Amos is grieved, and I’m sure it’s even harder for Eli’s own ministers and bishop over in Paradise.”
“How…how did I know?” Esther’s voice was fretful. “Why can’t I remember?”
“It’ll come. Don’t push it. The whole situation is in police hands now, anyway. We can leave it to Adam.”
“Ja.” The frown vanished, and Esther studied her face. “You and Adam—”
Libby tried to manage a smile, but it wasn’t easy. “There’s not going to be any Adam and me. For a while I thought…” She let that trail off.
“I am sorry.” Esther’s voice was soft. “That is ser hatt.”
So hard. Yes, it was. “I’m all right.” She forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her voice.
“It will be as God wills.” Esther’s eyelids started to droop. “We are in His hands.”
“Yes.” She found comfort in the thought. “Ready to sleep now?”
Esther nodded, eyes closing. “You can outen the light.”
She did so, thinking how appropriate the phrase was. Standing for a moment at the window, Libby stared out at the dark. There was no moon visible, and ice had formed on the outside of the pane.
A circle of light moved across the yard, reflecting from the snow cover. The police officer had probably been checking the outbuildings.
Carmody was on duty tonight—just as he had been the night of Esther’s injury. He was young, but Adam had faith in him. He’d keep Esther safe.
There was probably no need to worry now, anyway. She glanced at Esther and then tiptoed quietly to the door. No need to worry. After all, Bredbenner was on the run, his crimes out in the open now. If he had any sense, he’d be far from here.
And his partner, if he had one? She paused at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the newel post. Surely the same applied to him. If he had any sense, he would run before the investigators found him.
She shivered a little and zipped up her sweatshirt. They’d been keeping Esther’s room toasty with a kerosene heater, but the downstairs of the daadi haus was chilly.
Chilly and quiet. Leah and her brothers and sisters were shut away with two closed doors between them. She and Esther were virtually alone.
Giving herself a shake, Libby hurried into the daadi haus kitchen. There was light there, and warmth from the stove. She’d make some hot chocolate…Mom’s remedy when anyone needed comforting.
She put the milk on to heat, adding extra. Joe Carmody would probably appreciate a mug of something to warm him up about now. It had to be cold work, prowling around out there in the snow.
Once the milk was warming and she’d found the chocolate and the mugs, she peered out the window, trying to spot the patrolman. There was no sign of his flashlight. He must have gone around the house. She’d have to catch him on his next pass.
A sound at the door startled her into spilling a few drops of hot milk on the counter. Not a knock exactly—a sort of scratching sound, grating on nerves that were already stretched.
It had to be Carmody, probably trying to avoid disturbing Esther by knocking. She went quickly to the door and twisted the dead bolt. She eased the door open a few inches.
Nothing. No one was there. Maybe one of the barn cats, looking for shelter? Libby swung the door wider, so that the light from the kitchen flowed out.
And saw him—a huddled figure, sprawled in the snow. “Joe!” Grabbing a flashlight from the hook beside the door, she ran to him, knelt next to him.
“Joe, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She touched his face, the warm skin reassuring her. Her fingers fumbled for his throat, finding a pulse, relief flooding through her when she felt it beating.
“It’s all right, don’t worry.” No idea if he could hear her, but she had to say it. “I’ll call for help.” She started to pull the cell phone from her pocket, only to hear a groan, sense movement.
She swung the light around, catching another figure in the snow, this one groaning, trying to move. She took a step toward him and froze, recognizing the dark brown beard. Eli Bredbenner. He and Carmody must have fought—
She h
ad to get help. Pull the phone free, run for the house, call 911, lock the door, keep Esther safe—
She sensed, rather than saw, a movement behind her. Dodging, she flung up her arm to protect herself. Something struck her head a glancing blow, landing on her forearm, sending indescribable pain radiating through her arm. The phone went flying, and she stumbled forward. Eli must have been playing possum; he’d be on her in a second. If she could make the door—
She couldn’t. Hands grabbed her shoulders, sending pain surging through her arm. She cried out, trying to get away. She had to stop him, had to, couldn’t let him get to the house, Esther, the children—
Hands searched for her throat, still painful from the last encounter. She grabbed at them with her left hand, struggling, had to get away from him, feet slipping on the ice beneath. If she fell she’d be helpless, he’d finish her off and go after Esther.
Somehow she managed to keep her balance, keep the hands off her throat. His breathing was harsh in her ears, he was so close, the scent of him sharp in her nose, and then she realized where they were, why it was so slippery. They were on the icy slide the children had made. If she could knock him off balance she might have a chance.
She struggled, trying to kick him, unable to connect, feeling her own feet slip. If she fell, it was all over. Frantic, she threw herself backward against him. They fell together, and there was a sharp crack as he hit the ice.
His hands lost their grip. She rolled free, scrabbling away from him, right arm useless…
And she realized he wasn’t moving. She tried to get to her feet, but she couldn’t, not with her arm dangling helplessly. She couldn’t see where he was, if he came after her again—
The roar of an engine shattered the silence, and headlight beams pierced the dark. Doors swung open, men’s voices, people rushing toward her. She turned, forcing herself to look at the man.
He lay flat, apparently knocked out when his head hit the ice. But it wasn’t Eli Bredbenner—he still lay in the snow. It was Owen Barclay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“LIBBY, IF YOU DON’T hold still, the doctor isn’t going to be able to fix your arm.” Mom sounded as if she were scolding an eight-year-old, but the strain in her eyes was acute.
“I will.” She forced herself to lie still, biting her lip a bit.
“Not to worry.” The emergency room doctor smiled reassuringly. “It’s a simple break, and it should heal fine. Just don’t do any more fighting on the ice.”
Heaven only knew what the doctor had heard. It had probably been impossible to keep things quiet when paramedics had come in with four victims.
“Just tell me,” she muttered, glaring at her twin, figuring he’d be more forthcoming than Mom, who still seemed to think she could protect her little girl. “Is the police officer okay? What about the others?”
“As long as you hold still, I’ll talk,” Link said, reaching around Mom to pat Libby’s free hand. “Carmody has a mild concussion. One or the other of them must have hit him from behind as he was coming around the house.”
“What about Eli?” Her brief glimpse of him hadn’t been reassuring.
“Ironic, in a way. He has a head injury, too. Looks like a case of crooks falling out, as far as anyone can tell. He’s in the hospital under guard, and the doctors expect him to be able to answer questions tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. Knowing the Amish, they’d be surrounding Eli’s wife with comfort and praying for him.
“And Owen?” If he hadn’t attacked her, she wouldn’t have believed it. Owen Barclay, of all people.
“His injury wasn’t serious. He’s lawyered up, of course, and so far he isn’t saying anything. Probably hoping to cut the best deal he can.”
“Why did he do it? That’s what I don’t get.” At a frown from her mother, she managed to keep from moving. “He surely didn’t need the money.”
Link shrugged. “The police are digging into that now. One thing that’s surfaced already is a rumor that the owners of the inn are preparing to sell. It may be that his position wasn’t quite as secure as people thought it was.”
She still couldn’t quite grasp it. “Esther’s all right?”
Mom patted her hand. “She’s fine. She slept right through it. And the children are all right, too. The older ones didn’t know anything was going on until the police car drove in.”
“I should go back there—”
“No, indeed you won’t,” Mom said firmly. “Esther is perfectly safe now that those two have been caught, and plenty of people are there to help. Marisa insisted on staying the night, just in case, and she has her phone.”
Libby let herself sink back against the pillow. Good thing she wasn’t needed, because she felt as if she’d been hit by a steamroller.
“I hope you realize what a great person Marisa is,” she said, giving her twin a mock frown.
Link’s expression softened. “One in a million.”
Her heart seemed to twist. If only…but there was no point in indulging in wishful thinking. Adam had made his attitude clear. The fact that he hadn’t even checked in on her since she reached the hospital just added a punctuation mark to that.
* * *
ONCE AGAIN SHE’D slept half the day away. Libby got up, groaning a little as she moved. She had to get going, find out what had been happening, and she couldn’t even think how she was going to get into her clothes with this cast on her arm.
Someone tapped on the door, and Marisa peeked in. “Good, you’re awake. Adam is downstairs, and he’s about to fill us in, but he insists that you’ll want to hear it, as well.”
Adam. Libby wasn’t sure she was in any condition to face him. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and recoiled.
“I can’t go down looking like this.”
“You take all the time you need,” Marisa soothed. “I’m here to help you, and they can just wait for us.”
With Marisa’s help, getting dressed wasn’t so hard after all, although she’d clearly need to learn the tricks of managing the cast. Marisa talked soothingly while she brushed Libby’s hair and touched up her face. Clearly she’d been told not to answer any questions.
“There,” she said finally. “You look great.”
“I look as if I’ve been pulled through a knothole backward, and you know it, but thanks for the help.” She discovered that her legs would indeed support her. “Okay, let’s go down.”
And face Adam. She only wished she could do the poker face as well as he could.
Adam, Link and her mother were waiting in the family room. She managed to avoid taking a good look at him while Mom fussed over her, making sure she had a pillow to support her arm.
“I told the boys that you’d need something to eat first, but they’re both too impatient to wait.” She gave Adam and Link a look that relegated them to about the third grade.
“Geneva, if you want to give Libby something to eat—” Adam began.
“Never mind,” Libby said. “I want information more than I want food. What is going on?”
Adam took a chair a careful distance away from her. “I suppose Link told you that Owen’s attorney isn’t letting him say a thing so far.”
She nodded. It was probably the only thing he could do.
Her mother made a sound of disapproval. “I should think he’d want to get all of it off his chest. Owen Barclay, of all people, involved in such things. It’s hard to believe.”
“His attorney will probably count on people thinking that,” Adam said, his expression disapproving.
“He’s not going to get away with it,” Libby said. “After all, I’ll testify that he attacked me.”
Adam nodded. “Carmody caught a glimpse of him, as well. And Bredbenner is talking.”
“He’s recovering then?”
“He was stunned, but he seems to think Barclay intended to finish him off and leave him to take the blame for everything.” Adam shrugged. “That could well be
, but we’ll never be able to prove it. Still, we have enough to put Barclay away without it.”
“I just don’t understand why.” Mom sounded genuinely distressed. “Owen had everything, you’d think…he was respected, well-off, with a secure future. Why would he risk it all on such a scheme?”
“I doubt that his future was as secure as all that,” Adam said. “The owners of the inn are fairly elderly, and there’s talk they plan to sell. He must have known that was coming. Investigators are looking into his finances now. With a little luck, they’ll come up with a motive.”
“I don’t get how Barclay and Eli Bredbenner ever came together,” Link said. “That seems so unlikely.”
Adam planted his hands on his knees. “That we do know. According to Bredbenner, he’d done some carpentry work at the inn, and he’d padded the bill. He’d done it before, and none of his Amish customers had ever questioned it. But Owen caught him. Instead of reporting him, Owen proposed a deal. With Eli’s Amish background, other Amish would trust him automatically. Owen would provide the know-how, and Eli would handle the sales. A perfect combination, they must have thought and apparently it was, until questions were raised.”
“Esther,” she murmured.
“It seems pretty clear that they considered Esther a threat.” Adam leaned back in the overstuffed chair that had been her father’s, but there was nothing relaxed in the pose.
“There must have been more to it than that. They wouldn’t attack Esther just because she was asking questions.” Link sat down on the arm of Libby’s chair, putting a protective hand on her shoulder.
“We know Bredbenner’s version of it. If and when he talks, Barclay will tell it differently, I suppose.” Adam’s expression suggested distaste for both men. “Bredbenner says Esther had been asking a lot of questions, wanting to see documents. He got nervous, contacted Barclay, wanting to get out of the whole deal. Barclay wanted to talk, and they set a place to meet—that pull-off where the township shed is, just down from the Amish school. Bredbenner thinks Esther must have been leaving the school. She saw him, followed him, maybe overheard enough of their conversation to know what was going on.”
