Murder in Plain Sight

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ALL TREY COULD THINK, when he jogged out to the truck and pulled up at the emergency room entrance, was that he had to get Jessica someplace safe. Home. Once she was there, once he knew nothing else could happen to her, he could think this whole thing through.

The light over the E.R. door made a bright pool of illumination, surrounded by shadows. And he was jumping at those shadows, scanning the shrubbery as if someone lurked there.

The doors slid silently open, and he jumped out of the truck as a nurse pushed a wheelchair through. Jessica, pale in the artificial light, looked as if it took an effort to hold her head up. His mother and Leo emerged behind them, Mom still talking. Nerves, probably. She’d always been a pillar of strength when any of them damaged themselves, saving her reaction for afterward.

“You go along to the motel, Mom. We’ll see you back at the house.”

Leo, meeting his eyes for an instant, took her by the arm. “Come on, Geneva. Jessica will want her things so she can get settled comfortably for the night.”

Jessica rose, the nurse steadying her. “I can-”

Before she could insist that she could climb into the cab by herself, he picked her up, sliding her into the passenger seat without a word. He pulled the seat belt down and watched as she fastened it, then he closed the door and called out his thanks to the nurse, who was already headed back inside.

Once in the truck, he took a careful look at her. “Ready?”

She managed a faint smile. “I’m well enough to sit here. Honest.”

“I know your head must be pounding.” He drove carefully down the hospital drive. “I’ll take it easy.”

“Actually, thanks to the medication, it’s down to a dull roar.” She touched her head with cautious fingers. “I don’t know what it was, but I think it’ll make me sleep tonight.” She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, her lashes making dark crescents against her cheeks.

The urge to talk about what had happened was strong, but he managed to beat it down. “Let yourself drift off, if you want. I’ll wake you when we get to the house.”

Jessica was obviously in no shape to go over the accident again tonight. Besides, what could she add to what he knew himself?

The hay bales had toppled over. Despite his doubts, he had to admit that it could have happened accidentally. Vibrations, maybe, caused by the number of people going in and out of the barn. Or she’d leaned on it, somehow dislodging a bale.

Trouble was, he didn’t believe any of that. If someone had been up there in the loft, watching them, biding his time until Jessica was alone…

He glanced toward her. He didn’t like thinking that way, but they couldn’t ignore the warning notes she’d received. Someone wanted Jessica off the case. How far would they go to make that happen?

He sensed, rather than saw, her move. “Are you okay? Am I going too fast?”

“You’re fine. I’m just feeling guilty, coming in on your mother like this.”

“There’s nothing my mother likes better than company. And at least-”

“At least what?” she asked, when he didn’t finish the thought.

“At least while someone’s there with her, she won’t be as apt to do something foolish.”

“Your mother doesn’t strike me as a foolish person.” Jessica’s voice stiffened.

“My mother is one of the sanest people I know,” he said. “But she imagines she can do almost anything she thinks of. A month ago I found her up on a ladder, trying to move a bird’s nest from the eaves. Sam was at the bottom of the ladder, trying to follow her up. It’s a wonder they didn’t both break their necks.”

He said it lightly, but he couldn’t forget the panic he’d felt when he rounded the house and saw her. He’d already lost his father too early. He didn’t intend to lose his mother.

“That does sound a little rash. But if there was no one else to do it…”

“There were a dozen people within a mile radius who’d have run over to help her. She just didn’t want to ask.”

“I can understand that, I think.” Jessica’s voice was drowsy. “She doesn’t want to be a burden.”

“She could never be a burden.” He almost snapped the words. Jessica was the last person in the world he should expect would be on his side. She was as independent as his mother, and probably twice as stubborn.

She fell silent, and he thought she did doze a little. When he pulled up at the front door, she stirred. “There already?”

He nodded. “Don’t move. I’ll come around and help you down.”

Predictably, she already had the door open and was starting to slide out when he reached her. He caught her around the waist and lowered her gently to the pavement.

“How do you think that would feel when your feet hit the ground?” he scolded.

“Not too great,” she admitted. She steadied herself, holding on to his arms. “I can walk.”

“Stubborn,” he muttered, and she looked up and smiled at him.

“Just a little.”

With his arm around her waist, they made short work of the distance to the door. As he put his key in the lock, Sam greeted them with a single, full-throated bark.

“Good boy,” he said as they went in. He guided Jessica down the hallway to the family room. “Let’s settle you on the sofa in the family room until Mom arrives. She’ll insist on fussing over you. Take my advice and let her. It’s easier than arguing about it.”

“Right.” She sank down on the sofa with a little sigh, and she didn’t object when he guided her to lean against a pillow and lifted her legs to the sofa.

He pulled the knitted afghan off the back of the sofa and tucked it over her. “Do you want anything? Some tea, maybe?”

“I’ll wait and let your mother fix it.”

“Now you’ve got the idea,” he said approvingly. He pulled the hassock over so that he could sit down next to her. “I’m sure your mother would be the same way. It comes with the territory.”

“I don’t know.” Her gaze slid away from his. “My mother died when I was two.”

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help it-he put his hand over hers where it lay on the covering. Maybe that explained the instant bond she’d seemed to form with his mother. “You must miss her.”

“I don’t have many memories.” She frowned. “Sometimes I think I can remember her face, but I’m never sure if it’s real or a photo.”

“Who took care of you then?”

“I had a nanny. An honest-to-goodness proper English nanny, like Mary Poppins.”

“Did she dance on the rooftops and fly with her umbrella?”

Her eyes warmed when she smiled. “Not quite, but I always half expected her to. Nanny Grace was a wonderful woman-hugged me, comforted me, scolded me, trotted me off to Sunday school, went to all the mother-daughter affairs.”

“She sounds ideal. I’ll bet you’re still close.”

A shadow crossed her face. “I…we lost touch. When I was about eight, my father decided I’d be better off at boarding school.”

“That seems young to go away to school.” He was responding to the feeling under the words, and he discovered that he knew exactly what those feelings were. Loss. Loneliness. Abandonment.

“It was.” Her mouth moved as if she made an effort to smile and couldn’t quite manage it. “Well, anyway. Enough about the past. Just cherish your mother.”

“I do.” He brushed a lock of hair back from her face with a gentle finger. It flowed through his hand like silk. “It sounds as if you got the short end of the stick when it came to parents. I’m sorry.”

She could have responded with a tale of a wonderful relationship with her father, but he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t. Any man who would send a small child away from the only security she knew couldn’t be much of a father.

She settled a bit deeper into the pillow. “I did all right.” There was an edge of defensiveness in her voice. “Everybody doesn’t have the picture-perfect American family like you do.”

Before he could react, her eyes flew open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I forgot.”

“No wonder. You’re half-asleep from those pills they gave you.” He stroked her hair. “It’s okay. I guess everybody has something rough in their family to deal with. At least I had my dad for a lot of years.” Time to form a lot of good memories, unlike Jessica’s situation with her mother.

“And your mother…”

Whatever else she was going to say seemed to drift away. More than half-asleep, he decided. Ninety percent of the way, maybe.

He stroked her hair. “Just rest.” Obeying an impulse, he bent to touch her lips gently with his.

It was meant to be nothing-a comforting gesture, nothing more. But she woke at his touch, her lips warming, coming alive under his. He slid his arms around her, feeling her touch as her unbandaged hand stoked the back of his neck, drawing him even closer. He was falling into the embrace, they both were, and where-

The front door swung open, and Sam gave a welcoming bark. “Trey, Jessica, we’re here,” his mother called unnecessarily.

He pulled back. Jessica’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and dark.

“Trey…” She whispered his name.

THEY HAD ALL GANGED UP on Jessica the next day, insisting she spend it being coddled by Geneva instead of working. Geneva had fixed her favorite things to eat and smoothed the covers over her in the four-poster bed in the cozy guest room. Rather guiltily, she’d enjoyed it.

But by midafternoon, Jessica’s mind had begun churning over the facts of the case. She had a little more ammunition now, thanks to the drug tests and to Peggy’s willingness to testify, but was it enough to convince a jury?

Leaving the bedroom behind, she wandered into the family room, sunny and pleasant with its white wicker and flowered cretonne slipcovers. The television set in the corner was turned on to a game show, the sound muted.

Jessica sat down at the desk, trying to organize her thoughts. There were avenues yet to explore, if only she could ignore the throbbing in her head long enough to make a list.

“Jessica, what are you doing out here?” Geneva hurried into the room, her tone scolding. “I thought you were resting.”

“I’m rested out.” That sounded too blunt, and she patted Geneva’s hand in apology. “I can’t stop thinking about the case. Usually I can compartmentalize business, but not this time.”

Geneva nodded, pulling over a bentwood rocker and sitting down. “I know. I do understand. Some things are just so consuming you can’t get your mind off them.” Her eyes misted, and she rubbed the smooth surface of the chair arms. “After my husband’s death, I couldn’t think of anything else. People tried to take me out, distract me, as if that would make me forget.”

For a moment Jessica couldn’t speak. Then she put her hand over Geneva’s. “I’m sure you never could.”

“No.” Geneva sighed. “The police say he killed himself. I couldn’t believe Blake would do that. It haunted me. It still does, but I’ve learned to accept what can’t be changed.”

“I’m so sorry.” The words were inadequate. She hadn’t expected such a confidence. Geneva was giving her the gift of being open with her, and she sought for a response. Probably the only fitting one was to be open in return. “My mother died when I was very small. I don’t really remember her, but I still feel her absence, if you know what I mean.”

Geneva nodded, her grip tightening on Jessica’s hand. “I know.”

“But you…you’ve accepted your loss.” She was trying to grope her way to an understanding of something she rarely allowed herself to think about. “How have you done that?”

“Turned it over to God,” Geneva said. “Each time the burden seemed too heavy, or I didn’t think I could go another step without Blake, I just reached out for His hand. It was always there.”

“That must be very comforting, to know you have someone to lean on.”

Geneva sighed again. “It’s harder for some people, I think. Trey, for instance. He’s so determined to be the strong one that he can’t admit he needs help, but he does.”

Trey would hate it if he thought she’d discussed him with his mother. Even though Geneva had brought it up, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d blame it on her.

“Trey seems to feel it’s his duty to take care of everyone else,” she said carefully. “Right now, he’s torn between wanting to protect you from involvement in the case and wanting to protect me by having me here, which is a really good reason for me to go back to the motel.”

“I won’t hear of it,” Geneva said instantly. “How on earth does Trey think he can keep me away from the case? I’m committed to seeing Thomas exonerated. That’s what’s right.”

“Unfortunately, being right isn’t enough in a court of law. We have to be able to prove it.” She gestured toward the television set in the corner. The noon news had come on, and Thomas’s face flashed on the screen.

Geneva lifted the remote to turn up the sound. The reporter, having nothing new to report, rehashed the case, sitting in front of a picture of Cherry Wilson, head thrown back, laughing.

“It’s disgraceful,” she muttered. “They take it for granted he is guilty.”

“The reporting hasn’t crossed the line, but each time people hear something like that, they become more convinced that Thomas is guilty. If we can’t find some way to counter the bad publicity, I’m afraid we’ll never find an impartial jury.”

“If…” Geneva stared at the television screen, her face curiously blank.

“Geneva? Is something wrong?”

Her usual smile erased the impression. “No, not at all. You just reminded me of something.”

The telephone rang. Geneva reached across the desk to answer and then handed the receiver to Jessica. “It’s someone from the courthouse.”

She took the phone. She listened, made the appropriate response and hung up, pressing her fingers against her throbbing temples.

“What is it?” Geneva reached out, as if prepared to comfort.

She shook her head slowly. “They’ve finalized a trial date. It’s only a month away.”

A month. She repeated the words in her mind. She’d expected to have until the next term of court, at least.

A month. Four weeks to find a way to prove that Thomas was innocent, or he could face spending the rest of his life in the state penitentiary.

TREY DIDN’T RETURN TO THE house until well after supper. Because he didn’t want to spend time with her? Jessica didn’t know. But she suspected that he was as blindsided by the feelings between them as she was.

He came into the study, where she’d been working on her laptop, giving her a frowning gaze. “I understand the trial date is set.”

She nodded. “Just a month. Although I’m not sure having more time would help.”

Trey sat in the chair next to her. She could feel his gaze on her face, so intense that he might as well be touching her skin.

“Where were you today?” She didn’t mean that to sound accusing. She just wanted to get him talking so that she could dismiss the intimacy of the moment.

“I had some work to do. Then I went over to Jonas’s place and had a look around the barn.”

The words startled her. “But I didn’t tell you-” She stopped, not sure she wanted to say the rest of it.

“Didn’t tell me what?” He clasped her hand in his. “What, Jessica? You can trust me.”

“I know.” Her smile flickered. “I just didn’t want to sound paranoid.”

His gaze met hers steadily for a long moment. “You don’t think it was an accident.”

She shrugged, not sure she wanted to go that far. “I heard…thought I heard…someone in the loft just before the bales fell over.”

“You didn’t see anyone?” His words came quick and hard.

“No. I can’t even be sure of what I heard. Maybe it was just a natural sound. The floorboards settling or something.”

“But someone might have been there. Someone might have given those bales a shove.”

“How could that happen?” She’d been over this in her own mind a hundred times today. “Wouldn’t he or she have been spotted?”

He frowned, turning her hand idly in his. “Not necessarily. Probably no one was looking at the loft. The kids were all intent on each other, and the few adults probably had their minds on their own chores. Besides, it was dark enough looking up there from below that a person might not have been visible.”

A shiver went through her. She’d much rather think it had been an accident, pure and simple. “How would he get up there? And get away?”

“Easier than you might think. There are several ladders that lead down to the barn floor.” He snagged a pen and tablet from the desk and paused, looked at the image she had doodled earlier that day-the odd little hex symbol that had been on the threatening note. “Is this worrying you?”

“Only because I don’t know what it means, if anything.”

He shook his head slowly, frowning, and she had the sense that he didn’t say what he thought.

“Well, about the barn.” He flipped the page over and drew a rough sketch. “Here, here and here there are ladders.” He pointed. “Somebody could come down while everyone was intent on you. There’s also another ladder over here at the far end. It leads into the equipment area, so if he came and went that way, he didn’t have to go into the main part of the barn at all.”

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. “Someone in Amish dress wouldn’t have been noticed.”

“That’s ridiculous.” His words slashed back at her. “They wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“They…he…might not have intended to do much harm. If I hadn’t been getting to my feet when the bales fell, I doubt that I’d have been hurt. Startled, maybe. Scared.”

“What reason could any Amish person have for trying to scare you away? They want Thomas to be found innocent.”

“I don’t know.” Her hand twisted involuntarily, and he smoothed his fingers over it, as if he calmed a child. “But you can’t deny that some have been opposed to my involvement. And you must have been suspicious, or you wouldn’t have been out there looking over the barn today.”

“I suppose I was,” he admitted. “Jonas is a good friend, and I could see that he wasn’t satisfied, as well.”

“Did he think it was deliberate?”

“He didn’t say that, but I could tell it was in his mind.” He shook his head. “I can’t make any sense out of it. I suppose an outsider could have followed us, but how would they know you were in the loft? How would they know how to get up there without being seen?”

“That brings us back to accident,” she said.

“I guess.” He enclosed her hand in both of his. “Maybe I’m just spooked, worrying about you.”

She was suddenly breathless. “You…you shouldn’t. I’m used to looking out for myself.”

“And I’m used to looking out for the people I care about.” His voice deepened on the words, and her breath caught. She ought to look away from the intensity of his gaze, but she couldn’t. She seemed to be drowning in it. He leaned toward her-

“There you are, Trey.” Geneva hurried into the room, and Trey jerked back in his chair as if he’d been shot.

“Mom, we were talking.”

“Were you, dear? That’s nice.” She gave them a bright-eyed look and then switched on the television. “I won’t disturb you for long, but there’s something on the local news at seven that I want you to see.”

Jessica retrieved her hand. Lucky Geneva had come in when she had. An interruption was all that would have kept them from kissing again. From getting more entangled in a relationship she was afraid couldn’t go anywhere.

The television newscaster was giving a report on a three-car pileup. Jessica looked from Trey to his mother, but judging from Geneva’s expression, this wasn’t the news tidbit she was interested in.

A brief close-up of the reporter-the same one who’d waylaid her outside the jail and again at the Esch farm. The woman turned, and Jessica realized who she was interviewing.

Geneva. Geneva, big as life, smiling at the camera and telling the world that she believed in Thomas’s innocence, and that she was happy to be paying for his defense.

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, a TV 10 exclusive with Geneva Morgan, local business owner, revealing that she is providing representation for Thomas Esch, accused in the brutal murder of Cherry Wilson. A request for comment from Esch’s family and other local Amish was refused.”

The interview was short-that was the only bright spot Jessica could find. It ended, and Geneva switched the set off and turned to Trey with a smile identical to the one she’d worn on camera.

“There. Wasn’t that excellent?”

“Mom…” Trey often sounded frustrated when he talked with his mother, but for the first time since she’d known him, he seemed to feel helpless. “Why did you do that? What on earth possessed you?”

“The community needs to know that some of us believe Thomas is innocent. Now they do.” She beamed. “I’m so pleased about it, and it’s all thanks to Jessica. She gave me the idea.”

Jessica felt her mouth drop open. “I didn’t…”

Trey was looking at her with rage burning in the eyes that had been so warm only a few minutes ago. “Why would you do that? You know I don’t want my mother exposed to that sort of publicity.”

“I didn’t.” She was angry right back at him, but underneath the anger was pain. He judged her so quickly. “Geneva, for pity’s sake, I didn’t suggest that you do any such thing.”

Geneva finally seemed to wake up to just how angry her son was. “No, dear, of course you didn’t suggest it. Trey, stop looking like a thundercloud. We were talking about all the bad publicity, and Jessica said it was a shame there wasn’t anyone giving the other side.”

“I didn’t say that, exactly. Just that I’d like to find a way to counter the bad publicity.” She experienced the helplessness Trey seemed to feel so often with his mother. “Geneva, I certainly didn’t want you to do anything.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Geneva beamed, unrepentant. “I showed the community that we support Thomas.”

“Yes. You did.” Trey looked weighted down with the responsibility he took so seriously. “I just hope you don’t have cause to regret it.”