by Marta Perry
“Thank you. I understand you worked on the project at Allen Morgan’s house that September my mother disappeared.”
He nodded. “That’s right. I was just out of high school, actually, and construction was a stopgap job until I found something more suited to my talents.”
“I see.” Obviously he considered working at the inn better than working with his hands. “According to Mr. Sylvester, on the day that my mother vanished, he was called away. He left you and another man to continue work on the drywall.” Maybe it wasn’t tactful to bring up that Sylvester had expected them to finish it.
“That’s right. Len Barnhart and I. The two of us stayed until quitting time.”
“Was my mother there the whole time?”
He glanced down, lashes hiding his eyes. “I’m not sure. We were working in the addition, you see, and she was someplace in the house. I remember she was in the kitchen for a while, because she brought us a pitcher of lemonade.”
“And did you finish the drywall?” Leo put the question.
“Not all of it. That was too big a job for two men.”
This last was added quickly, as if someone had questioned it.
“Was my mother still there when you left?” She held her breath. This might be as close as she’d come to reconstructing that last afternoon.
He frowned, seeming to concentrate. “Well, I’m not positive, you understand. I know she was there when we were having lunch, because that’s when she brought the lemonade. And she must have been there a bit later, because she had a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Her heart jolted.
He nodded. “I happened to be taking a smoke break, standing at the window. Somebody was outside, talking to her through the kitchen door.”
“Did you see who it was?” Urgency must have shown in her voice.
“He was turned away from me, so I didn’t get a really good look. About all I can say is that it was a man. Oh, and he was Amish.”
Amish. Her breath caught. Barbara had told her cousin she was in trouble. She’d brought a suitcase with her to work that day. And an Amish man had come to see her that afternoon. Ezra Weis? Her cousin William? Or someone else Marisa didn’t know about?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LINK PACED ACROSS the living room and back again, glancing out the front windows as he passed, watching for headlights announcing that Mom and Marisa were back. Stupid, to be so stressed about their being out at night. This was Springville, not New York City.
Given the things that had been happening, he didn’t actually find that very comforting. Bad things could hit innocent people anywhere, anytime. Nobody knew that better than he did.
His thoughts slid backward in time…back to Afghanistan. When they’d started rebuilding the school, they’d been told that four young girls had been killed in the original attack.
His heart twisted. Innocents, living in a dangerous place. At least he and his men had been professionals, out to do a difficult job.
The nightmares hadn’t come in over a week, maybe because he’d been so preoccupied with the present danger. Was that the cure for post-traumatic stress—to get involved in something equally dangerous? He’d hate to think so.
Please… But he found he didn’t know where that instinctive prayer was going. Please let me forget? That was the coward’s way out. Please protect Mom and Marisa? That he could say with a whole heart.
He made another circuit of the living room, earning a glare from Trey, who was trying, or pretending, to read the newspaper.
“Mom won’t thank you for wearing a hole in that rug.” Trey tossed the paper aside. “What are you so jittery about? Nothing can happen to them at the historic-association dinner except that they might get bored into a coma.”
“I’d have said nothing could happen to Marisa at the Miller’s guest house. And it’s a dark ride back from town. I should have taken them and picked them up.”
“You offered, remember? And Mom said that when she got old enough to require a chauffeur, she’d hire her own.”
“Right.” The memory of his mother’s expression provided a moment of humor, but it was short-lived. “You know Mom. Do you actually imagine she’s being discreet? We have to face the possibility that someone at that meeting tonight could have been involved in Barbara Angelo’s disappearance.”
Could have been the person who attacked Marisa.
His hands clenched. He’d been a fool to put his arms around her this afternoon. A fool to let himself think he loved her.
At least he hadn’t said those words to her. It was bad enough saying them to himself.
“You can relax,” Trey said. “I see the reflection of the lights.”
Link spun, staring out the window. Sure enough, the car was coming down the driveway. He suppressed the urge to go out and meet them. He’d been giving himself away far too much where his feelings for Marisa were concerned.
He heard the slam of the car doors, followed by their footsteps crossing the porch.
“We’re home.” Mom sounded exuberant. “I knew you boys would be waiting up for us.”
“It’s only nine-thirty, Mom.” Trey gave her a quick hug.
“Really? I’d have said that speech lasted for at least three hours.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Marisa followed them into the living room. “I found it rather interesting.”
“That’s because you haven’t heard Gerald Price’s lecture on the Underground Railroad several hundred times,” Mom said. “You’d think he’d want to freshen up his research, at least.”
“Enough with the speech critique. How did you make out?” He looked questioningly at Marisa. She looked tired. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”
“I’ll take something. I’ll be fine.” She sat down in the corner of the sofa with a barely suppressed sigh. “As for the more crucial aspect of the evening…well, it was interesting, wasn’t it?” She glanced at his mother.
“It certainly was.” Mom perched on the arm of the sofa, looking like a hummingbird pausing in flight. “Everyone we talked to acted suspiciously. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they were all in on Allen’s little group.”
“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration, and you can’t go around saying things like that,” Trey said. “I don’t want to have Jessica defending you on a libel suit.”
Mom waved that away. “Owen Barclay certainly found an excuse to dash away when I asked him about meetings at Allen’s house. Why would he do that if he didn’t know anything?”
“Probably because he thought you’d turned dotty,” Trey said. “You mean you came right out and asked him?”
“She did.” A ghost of a smile flickered across Marisa’s face. “And you should have heard her with the judge.”
“Judith Waller? Is she still active in the association?” He remembered Judge Waller from his misspent youth, when the thought of appearing before her and trying to explain himself had discouraged some of his crazier ideas.
“Somewhat.” Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “You know, that was odd. She jumped right into talking about Marisa’s mother before I’d had a chance to bring it up.”
“I’m sure it’s just because she knew who I was.” Marisa rubbed her shoulder absently.
“You ought to go to bed,” he said roughly.
“I’m fine.” She smiled at him, and behind the smile he read the memory of those moments when he’d held her and comforted her as she wept.
“No, but Judith did mention attending a meeting at Allen’s house, saying that was where she’d met Barbara. She claimed it was a historical-association committee,” she added darkly.
“Could have been,” Trey said. “You’re always going to committee meetings. Why shouldn’t she?”
“Well, I think—”
It was a sign of how wiped out she was that Marisa actually interrupted his mother. “Brad’s revelation was more important, it seems to me.” The fine lines around her eyes deepened, and he knew it wasn’t anything g
ood. “He remembered that day. He claimed that sometime in the afternoon, he saw my mother talking with an Amish man outside the kitchen door.”
“I see.” He kept his voice noncommittal with an effort and sat down next to her on the sofa. “Did he recognize the man?”
“No. Apparently he didn’t get a look at his face. But if she took her suitcase with her that day…” Her voice died out, as if she didn’t want to think about what that meant.
A love triangle? But that wasn’t the only possibility. “We know she was frightened about something,” he said. “And we know she was considering asking William Zook for help. It’s possible he came to talk to her there.”
“That’s true.” The look she gave him contained gratitude, probably because he hadn’t jumped to the obvious conclusion.
“Or it might have been Ezra Weis,” Trey said. “We know he was hanging around the Miller place at night. He could be afraid of what Marisa might find out about him.”
Marisa’s hand clenched…the only sign that prospect upset her. “It’s possible. But since she told Elizabeth she was thinking of contacting William, that seems more likely.”
“Either way, I’m thinking it’s something Adam should be told,” Trey said. “He can question people more effectively than we can.”
Link moved his hand on the sofa, so that it brushed Marisa’s, feeling the tension radiating from her. “Trey may be right. You said William wouldn’t talk to you, but I don’t think he’ll refuse to talk to Adam.”
He sensed her resistance. Finally she nodded.
“All right. Tomorrow. I’m too tired to think right now.”
“Sure thing,” Trey said. “Before you go up to bed, there’s something I’ve been meaning to show the two of you. When we were talking about the raven symbol, I forgot I still had this. It’s the pendant Bobby Stephens had, the one he apparently thought was his connection to the Brotherhood.”
He held out something that dangled from his hand. Link reached for it, feeling an odd revulsion as it touched his hand. He stared at the stylized symbol, memory stirring.
“With this new information, maybe we don’t have to worry about—”
“Where did you get this?” Link rasped the words, hardly able to form them.
“I told you. Bobby had it. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost.” He had better control of himself now, but dread was pooling in the pit of his stomach.
“But I’ve seen this before, or one just like it.”
“What? Where?” Trey sounded rattled, and Trey didn’t rattle easily.
Link sucked in a breath. “You remember the day I climbed down into the quarry? The day you had to pull me out?”
Trey nodded. Link could feel Marisa’s gaze on him, but he didn’t want to look at her, afraid she might guess at his half-formed fear.
“I made it as far as the mouth of the cave before I realized I couldn’t get any farther. Libby kept yelling at me to come back, but I was delaying, not wanting to give up. I started looking around for something to prove I’d been there. That’s when I spotted it. A tile, just like this one, half buried in the mud on the path outside the cave.”
“What? Are you sure?” Trey grabbed the tile, staring at it as if it had answers. “What happened to it?”
“I stuck it in my pocket. Then I realized I couldn’t get back up, and Libby started getting upset. I think it kicked around in my dresser for a while, but I don’t remember.” He met his brother’s gaze. “More important, what was it doing there?”
Trey didn’t speak for a moment, but Link could tell that his brother’s thoughts were running along the same train his were. If this crazy story of the Brotherhood was connected to Barbara’s disappearance—face it, to her death—then…
“How could anyone get a body down there?” Trey’s voice was as harsh as his had been.
Marisa gasped, her hand going up to cover her lips.
“I’m sorry,” Trey said instantly. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes. You did.” Her voice was steadier than he’d have imagined it could be. “You think my mother died that day. You’re probably right. I don’t see any other explanation.”
His mother moved closer to Marisa, putting her arm around her gently. “If that’s what you think, well, it would have been possible. There used to be an easy path down into the quarry. After it was closed by a rock slide, we put up the barricades.”
“When, Mom?” Trey’s tone was urgent. “When did that rockslide happen?”
He saw the startled realization in his mother’s face.
“Why…I don’t know, not exactly. But your father discovered it while he was taking a walk, and he came back and told me. I remember…” She got up suddenly and hurried out of the room.
“Where is she going?”
He patted Marisa’s hand. “To look for Dad’s property notebook from that month. He was meticulous about things like that. He’d have jotted the information down when he discovered it.”
His mother was back in moments, holding the familiar brown leather notebook. She flipped through pages and then stopped, her face tightening.
“Here it is. ‘Rocks have blocked the quarry path.
No point in trying to clear it. Put up a temporary barricade, but I’ll get someone to fix a more permanent one.’” She looked up. “It’s dated September 30 of that year.”
“So someone could have…” Trey began, stopping when Link shook his head.
He cleared his throat. “We’ll have to check it out. Maybe it’s best to see for ourselves before we get a full-scale police operation going.”
Link nodded. His fingers wrapped around Marisa’s, holding on tight. “We’ll have a look first thing in the morning.”
MARISA WALKED BESIDE Jessica through the orchard the next morning. Ahead of them, Trey and Link wore hiking boots and carried ropes looped over their shoulders.
She glanced at Jessica’s somber expression. “Is this dangerous?” She kept her voice low, not wanting Link to hear.
“Not really, as long as they’re careful.” Geneva, close behind them, answered. “I still wish they’d let me bring the dog. He may be old, but he’d sound the alert if there are any snakes around.”
There was something else to worry about. “Maybe we should have called Adam and let him handle this.”
“If we had, the news would have been all over the township in about a minute.” Jessica’s forehead wrinkled, and Marisa realized that she was worried, too. “Trey didn’t want a stampede of people in here until we know for sure if…”
She let that trail off, but Marisa knew what she’d intended to say.
“If my mother’s body is there. That’s what we’re all thinking, isn’t it?”
Jessica shook her head. “The rational part of me says we’re building a lot on something that might be pure coincidence.”
“But it all fits,” Geneva said. “Allen’s comments in his journal, his obvious fear and anguish over something, the tile Link found, the date of the rock slide.”
“Not really evidence.” Jessica’s lawyer’s outlook was evident. “But, yes, we have to look into it.”
They fell silent. Marisa suspected that each of the other women was preoccupied with her own worries over where this was taking them, as she was. If they found nothing, that would simply be another dead end in a series of dead ends.
And if they did find what they all so obviously feared, she’d be plunged into grief and confronted with ever more serious problems. Where are you, Dad? Oh, Lord, I’m so worried about him. Please…
But did she really want to pray that she’d hear from him? She didn’t have much confidence in her ability to keep that from the police, and what would happen then?
The woods closed around them, and they were forced into single file. The trees were alive with birdsong and movement, seeming to clash with the fear that hung over her. From what she remembered of that earlier trip into the woods,
it wasn’t far to the quarry path. Her chest tightened, as if her heart were being compressed. They’d know. Before long, they would know.
Link’s tension was evident in every move he made.
He gestured toward the fallen log where she’d been sketching the day the shots were fired. Showing Trey the spot, she supposed. She expected to feel that fear again, but her apprehension was completely absorbed by what they’d find at the end of this trek.
“I’ve never seen the quarry,” Jessica said. “Trey said he’d bring me up here sometime this fall, but I didn’t expect it to be under these circumstances.” She touched Marisa’s hand lightly. “I’m sorry. I can imagine what you must be feeling.”
“For the most part, I just want to know. No matter how bad it is, knowing is better than wondering.”
“I’ve often thought that about those poor people whose teenage children run away,” Geneva said. “You read about it, and I can’t imagine how that must be, always wondering, never knowing.”
“If we do find something…” She let that trail off, her throat closing on the word. “I don’t know what will happen then.”
“We’ll have to call the police,” Jessica said. “And I can just imagine what Adam will have to say about our interference. They’ll launch a full-scale investigation, probably bringing in a forensics team from the state police, since Spring Township doesn’t have those facilities. They’ll rope off the area, but it will be a magnet for the curious, I’m afraid.”
The men turned onto the quarry path and stopped, waiting for them. When Marisa reached him, Link gave her a tight smile that was probably meant to be reassuring.
“It’s another thirty yards or so to the quarry. Don’t go near the edge until we’ve checked it out. It may have crumbled since the last time anyone was up here.” He gave his mother a stern look, probably thinking her the most likely person to dart ahead.
“We’ll behave,” Geneva said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Her sentiments exactly. As they started down the path, she managed to grab Link’s hand. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”