I dropped the stack of files onto the bench beside me. “Yes—I mean, no—I mean not for myself, for a friend who is in some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“She was in a car accident and the person in the other . . . um . . . vehicle died.”
I heard the lawyer’s deep intake of breath. “That is serious. When was this?”
“Last Friday.”
“She was driving the car?”
“Yes.” I paused. “And she doesn’t have a license.”
Hart clicked his tongue. “This doesn’t sound good for your friend.”
“I know.” I straightened the files sitting next to me on the bench, but only succeeded in making the stack less tidy.
“Was the accident in Knox County?”
“Yes.”
The sound of typing came though my cell phone. “I’m at a computer now, and the only fatal accident that happened in the county last Friday was an auto-buggy collision.”
“That’s the one.”
He whistled. “Her name is Rebecca Troyer.”
“That’s right. Will you take the case? Billy from Uncle Billy’s Budget Autos recommended you.”
He laughed. “Billy’s one of my best clients. I wish he was able to stay out of trouble though. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you and Miss Troyer stop by my office later today?”
“Are you available after five?”
“Sure. I’m usually in the office well past seven.” He rattled off the address.
I hung up my cell and gathered the files into my lap. I would need to do more research on Tyler Hart before our meeting. I wanted to make sure he was the right lawyer for Becky. I stood, trying to concentrate on the different places that I could search for Hart online, but thoughts of Joel peering under the hood of my rental car hood weren’t far from my mind.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Before I left campus to pick up Becky from the greenhouse, I drove a lap around campus, testing my brakes. Testing the brakes every time I started the car had become a habit. They seemed fine, and the telltale brake light was unlit. Then again, I wasn’t entirely sure the Prizm had a functioning brake light.
Could Joel have really been the one who cut the brake line?
At the greenhouse, I inched through the glass door. No one was at the cash register. “Becky?” I waited. “Cookie?” No one replied.
Crash! The sound came from the hothouse.
I ran through the shop to find Becky standing over a broken ceramic pot. Dirt scattered across the cement floor, and a cactus stalk lay in pieces.
I rushed toward her. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes were wide, sad. “I can’t do anything with this stupid cast.”
I pulled a large garbage can close to the broken pot and started tossing pieces of broken pottery into it.
“Careful,” Becky said. “Don’t let the plant stick you.” She grabbed an extra pair of heavy-duty leather gloves off the utility shelf and tossed them to me.
I put them on, but because my hands were so small, the fingertips extended an inch past where mine ended.
Becky also wore a glove on her good hand and began throwing broken pieces in the can. She groaned. “Cookie and Scotch left me in charge of the store. They had a meeting at the bank. I knew Scotch wanted to change this display table to highlight our cacti, so I wanted to do it before they got back as a surprise. I should have known I can’t do anything right.”
“That’s not true.” I examined the cactus. “But I don’t know why you tried to move such a huge plant by yourself. That pot must have weighed thirty pounds.”
“I’ve carried things much heavier than that.”
I glanced up at her from where I crouched on the cement. “Not with a broken arm.”
Becky took a deep, staccato breath as if she might start crying again.
I offered her a smile. “When will they be back?”
Her eyebrows inverted. “I don’t know. They’ve been gone for three hours.”
“And you watched the store by yourself the entire time?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. I had one customer, and she only wanted to buy fertilizer. Yesterday we only had four customers all day.”
That didn’t sound good. Again, I wondered why Cookie and Scotch hired Becky. They didn’t have the foot traffic to need the help.
Becky and I cleaned up the rest of the mess, and following her direction, I arranged the plants on the display table. By the time we finished I was covered in sweat.
Cookie’s voice floated into the hothouse. “Hello?” She and Scotch entered the room.
Scotch used a cane to support himself. He examined the display table. “Becky, did you do this?”
Becky swallowed, and nodded, her eyes still wide. “I know you wanted to do it, Scotch, but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you and . . .”
“It is a nice surprise.” He clapped his hands together. “You’re a jewel, Miss Rebecca.”
Becky beamed.
Cookie perched on a gardener’s stool. “Chloe, you didn’t like the makeover I did on Becky.”
I licked my lips. “Well, it’s not that I didn’t like it—”
“You think she looks better now?”
I glanced at Becky’s outfit. She wore a plain pink T-shirt, her first pair of jeans, and light makeup. I looked back to Cookie. “She looks more like herself.”
Cookie sniffed. “I suppose you are right. Not everyone can pull off my style.” She removed a compact mirror from her long skirt pocket and admired her reflection. In the muggy hothouse, her eye makeup ran down her cheek. She powdered her nose and seemed unconcerned by her reflection.
“That’s so true,” I said.
Becky bowed her head to hide a smile.
Scotch hooked his thumbs through the belt loops in his overalls. “Any customers?” Scotch sounded hopeful.
Becky nodded. “One.”
Scotch’s face fell. “It is toward the end of summer. The planting season is over. I’m sure it will pick up in the fall when people plant bulbs and need supplies to overwinter their plants.”
Cookie sighed. “You must be right, dear.”
“How was the bank?” Becky asked.
Scotch and Cookie shared a grimace.
Becky frowned. “Did I ask something wrong?”
Cookie forged a smiled, but didn’t answer the question. “The display is wonderful. Thank you, Chloe, for helping her.” Cookie’s overplucked eyebrows shot up. “Scotch, it’s already after five o’clock. We don’t want to keep the girls. I know they have lots of things they’d rather be doing, and you need to get ready.”
Scotch’s brow drooped.
“For the thing . . .”
“Oh! Oh! The thing,” Scotch said. “That’s right. Yes, you girls run along.” He stepped behind Becky and me and pushed us toward the exit. “Becky, we will pick you up tomorrow at nine like always.”
I dug my toes into the cement to slow the pushing. “I have an appointment after work tomorrow. Can you drop off Becky at our house, too?”
Scotch continued to usher us out. “Of course, of course. Now, run along.”
When Becky and I stumbled through the greenhouse’s front door, Scotch closed and locked it behind us. I scrunched my forehead. “What was that about?”
Becky shrugged. “They needed us to leave.” The girl doesn’t have a suspicious bone in her body.
As for me, suspicion ran deep. “I guess . . .” I mirrored her shrug and together we walked to the Prizm.
Inside the car, I programmed Pepper to find Tyler Hart’s office.
Becky cocked her head. “This isn’t the way home. Where are we going?
Hands on the wheel, I
turned to meet her gaze. “To meet your lawyer.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tyler Hart worked out of a barn. At least I think he did. There wasn’t a sign, but the address was right. Becky and I stood outside the white barn, waiting for the attorney to reply to my knock.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Becky asked. “Maybe that GSP thing broke in the crash.”
“The GPS is working fine, and this is the address he gave me.”
“It’s a barn.”
Just then, the barn door slid open. A stocky man a few inches taller than I grinned at us. “You much be Chloe and Becky.” He laughed his Santa laugh. “Don’t worry, you are in the right place. Come on inside.”
The outside of the structure may have resembled a barn, but the inside had been completely transformed into a respectable office. The ceiling’s exposed wooden beams were the only rustic remnant inside.
“Thanks for coming all the way out here. The farm belonged to my grandfather. I inherited it when he passed away seven years ago. I never thought much of manual labor, but I saw the barn’s potential for a law office.”
“Is it hard being so far away from town?” I asked.
“It’s only seven miles as the crow flies, and the location hasn’t hurt my business. Then again, my clients would rather others in town not know they need a criminal lawyer.” He pointed to a seating area that I suspected used to be a horse pen. “Let’s get started.”
Becky sat on the edge of her high-back armchair and clasped her small hands tightly in her lap.
“Before you got here, I read all the newspaper coverage of the accident, and I called your public defender, Becky, to get his take on the case. I have to say he was not especially helpful and seemed relieved when I said I was considering taking your case.” He leaned forward. “But I want to hear everything from the beginning from you. From the moment you decided to take the car until the collision.”
Becky looked to me, and I nodded to let her know it was okay.
As she spoke, I examined the lawyer. He had light brown hair, blue eyes, and he wore black plastic-rimmed glasses that made him look more like a high school chemistry professor moonlighting as a body builder. As Becky spoke, he tapped notes into his tablet.
Tyler examined his notes, then looked up. “The police said that the brake line was cut.”
“Yes,” I answered. “They believe the cut was recent, at least since the last time I had driven the RAV4.”
He peered at me over his glasses. “When was that?”
I thought for a minute. “Last Wednesday was the last time. After work.”
“Where did you go?”
“The small market in Appleseed Creek. Becky and I went grocery shopping.”
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary? When you came out of the grocery store was anyone hanging around your car?”
“No. Becky, did you notice anything?”
She shook her head.
Tyler sat back. “The good news is the police have decided not to charge Becky with vehicular manslaughter.”
“Chief Rose already told us that.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’ve spoken to Greta?”
“Yes.” More often than I would have liked to.
“Does she have any suspects?”
“She did, but they have an alibi.” I told him about Curt and Brock.
“I know them well.”
I pulled back.
“Don’t worry,” he said with that Santa Claus laugh, “I’ve never represented either of them.”
I relaxed. “What kind of charges will Becky face?” I reached over and squeezed my young friend’s hand, and she in turn gave me a brave smile.
“She is charged with driving without a license, without insurance, and there is a chance she can be charged with auto theft.”
“But she didn’t steal the car. I told the sheriff and the police chief that.”
He adjusted his glasses. “Did you give her permission to drive it?”
“No, of course not.”
He replaced the cover on this tablet. “It’s up to the prosecutor, then.”
I bit the inside of my lip.
“Don’t worry. If you are unwilling to press charges about Becky taking the car, it’s not likely he will charge her.”
“What happens now?” Becky’s voice quavered.
“I decide whether or not to take the case.” He remained silent for a full minute.
I glanced at Becky, then again at Tyler. “Well?”
A smile broke across his face. “I’ll take it. I can’t turn down a friend of Billy’s.”
Billy and I were barely acquaintances, but I didn’t correct him.
“Now, we need to devise a strategy.”
“A strategy?” What is this, playing chess?
He leaned his chin on his fist as he thought. “My advice is to plead guilty to driving without a license and without proper insurance.”
“I am guilty,” Becky whispered.
“What will happen if she pleads guilty?”
“The judge may be more lenient. I’m not sure though. I know all the prosecutors in this county.” He laughed. “Not all of them like me, but they respect me. I will ask for probation and community service. Also, I can guarantee you won’t be able to apply for a driver’s license in the foreseeable future.”
“I’ll never drive again,” Becky mumbled.
“What kind of community service will it be?” I asked.
“It can vary, but don’t worry, there are many options, and we will find what Becky might enjoy.”
I allowed myself a deep breath. “What’s your fee?”
“I’ll take this one pro bono.”
Becky’s brow knit together.
I caught eyes with her. “He means he won’t charge us anything.”
Becky’s shoulders relaxed.
I was skeptical. “That’s kind of you, but why would you do that?”
He smiled. “My grandfather, the one who left me this farm, grew up Amish. Since I’m no use in farming, this is something he’d want me to do.”
Tyler removed the cover from his tablet. “Chloe, I want you to go home and write down everywhere your vehicle might have been over the last week and a half. Even if you stopped at the post office for two minutes, I want to know about it.” He pointed at Becky with the edge of his tablet. “I want you to write down everywhere you’ve been in the last week and a half. I want to know who you think might have a reason to sabotage Chloe’s car.”
“I haven’t gone many places,” Becky said.
“Everything counts. Did you tell anyone you planned to borrow Chloe’s car last Friday.”
Becky rung her hands.
“Did you, Becky?” I asked.
“I told my sister Ruth. She called the house from the shed phone. The phone is only for business or emergencies, and she surprised me when she called. I saw Ruth in town the Tuesday before the accident and gave her the number in case of emergency.” She paused. “Ruth’s upset I left home. She said I abandoned her.”
The phone call was news to me. “When did she call?”
“Thursday, while you were at work.”
“And you told her about your interview?” Tyler asked.
Becky nodded. “I didn’t mean to tell her. It just came out. I wanted to show her I was doing okay.”
“She didn’t see a problem with it?” I asked.
Becky flinched. “She knew I could drive. My friend Isaac taught me.”
“Isaac Glick?” Tyler asked.
Becky nodded.
Tyler wrote something down. “Would she tell anyone?”
“Who would she tell? She’s only twelve,” Beck
y said.
“You need to find out if she told anyone.” He plopped his pen into the holder on his desk. “It could have something to do with the accident.”
“Ruth would only talk to someone in the district.”
“Do you think that person who tampered with my car was Amish?” I asked.
Tyler shrugged. “We can’t rule it out at this point.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped on his desk. “It’s too circumstantial that the intended victim was the bishop. It’s too unlikely the car and buggy would converge on Butler Road at the exact same time. My gut feeling is one or both of you was the intended victim. The question is, was the saboteur’s intention to scare you or hurt you?”
I tasted blood from biting down on the inside of my lip too hard.
Outside, Becky closed the door to the Prizm carefully so that the duct-taped side mirror would not fall off again. “Let’s just go to the farm and ask Ruth if she told anyone.”
I sighed. “It’s not that easy.”
“What do you mean? It’s suppertime. Everyone will be home now. Mamm would love to feed us.”
“Your father doesn’t want us there.”
“Why not?”
I told her what happened when Timothy and I stopped by the farm on Monday. Tears gathered in the corners of Becky’s eyes, and she turned her head toward the window.
“Your family loves you. I’m sure this is hard for them. The deacon forced them to choose between you and the district.”
“They chose the district.” The hurt in her voice cut deep. It was the hurt of a rejected child. I knew it well.
“If they loved me, they would help me. Instead, they’ve turned their backs on me.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
She took a deep breath. “If Daed won’t let Ruth speak to me, call Timothy. He can talk to Ruth.” Her tone was bitter. “They still accept him.”
“Timothy was in Sunbury today. I’ll talk to him when I see him tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? What are you doing tomorrow?”
I told her about Timothy’s and my meeting with Hettie Glick. “Tomorrow, we are going to Columbus to talk to the developer.”
“Why can’t I go?”
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