by Marta Perry
“I’d like to hear that, too,” Adam said.
Ignoring him, she focused on Bishop Amos, since he was the only one looking at her without an accusation in his face.
She didn’t want to tell them. She was afraid of what else the box might contain.
But when an innocent like Ephraim was attacked, the time for caution was gone.
“I remembered seeing my mother put something in a hiding place under the floorboard in her bedroom. It didn’t seem likely that it was still there, but I couldn’t ignore the possibility.”
“How did you get in?” Adam asked. He probably suspected her of breaking a window.
“I noticed the lock-box code Link used the other day. It hadn’t been changed.” She took a breath. “If the box was there, it belonged to me.”
“And was it?” Adam’s tone was even now, giving away nothing of the suspicion he must feel.
“Yes.” She pulled it from her bag, holding it carefully between her hands.
“But what about Ephraim?” William clearly couldn’t be silent any longer. “Why was he there?”
“I don’t know. Really. I heard a sound in the kitchen. I… It sounded like someone in trouble. I went and saw him.” Her throat tightened as she relived that moment. “I called the paramedics.”
“Did he say anything? Anything that would tell you what happened?” Adam pressed.
“He was unconscious. I rode with him to the hospital, but he didn’t wake up.” But he will, won’t he?
“Why? Why was Ephraim there?” William took a step toward her.
“Didn’t you send him?” She would not let William intimidate her.
“I send him? Why would I do that?”
She gestured with the box. “To get this. To keep me from reading the note to my mother from you.”
She opened the box and took out the topmost paper. She didn’t want to part with it, but she forced herself to hand it to Adam.
He read it, frowning, and held it up so that William could see it. “How about it, William? Did you write this?”
William’s face worked. They all stared at him now, even his friend, Ezra. Expecting an answer. “Ja,” he said finally. “I wrote it.”
“I think you must explain,” Bishop Amos said.
William nodded. “Ja. All right. I see I must tell it all. I heard from Barbara. She said she had to see me. That she was in trouble and I was the only one who could help.”
Behind him the door opened. Link came in, and Adam held up a hand commanding him to silence. He looked faintly rebellious, but he obeyed.
“I went to that house, in the evening. She came out to the backyard to talk to me.”
“It was you I saw then.” Marisa knew it was true the instant she said the words. “You and Mammi were arguing.”
“You saw?” He gave a short nod. “She said she had to get away. That I had to help her. But she wouldn’t tell me what it was all about.”
“What was she afraid of?” Adam’s question was sharp.
“You think I didn’t ask her? She wouldn’t answer. Said it was dangerous. That I was safer if I didn’t know anything. That she had to go away for the sake of her family.”
Marisa’s tension eased ever so slightly. If that was what Mammi had said, it sounded as if she was trying to protect them. But from what?
“You’re sure that’s what she said?” Adam probably didn’t want to hear that. He was busy looking for evidence against her father.
“Ja.” William shrugged. “So I said I would help.” He nodded to the letter. “I said I’d pick her up, but…” He stopped, looking as if he struggled with himself.
“But what?”
“I was delayed. So I sent Ephraim to Allen Morgan’s house to tell her I would be late, so she wouldn’t be standing there at the crossroads.”
She could feel Link’s tension even through the distance that separated them.
“What happened?” He grated out the words.
William pressed his lips together, as if holding back something painful. “Ephraim came back when I was harnessing the horse. He was that ferhoodled we couldn’t make out a thing he was saying. Just kept crying when we tried to get him to tell us.”
Adam and Link exchanged looks, and she knew what they were thinking. Ephraim had seen what happened to her mother that day.
“I drove there, fast as I could.” William shook his head. “The house was empty. I looked, I called for Barbara, but she was gone, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“Ephraim…” Her heart hurt for the little boy in a man’s body. “He never spoke?”
William shook his head, the movement heavy. “When we tried, he’d get so upset he couldn’t sleep for days. It was cruel, to treat him so.”
“You should have gone to the police,” Adam said. Probably he felt he must say that, but she could see the sympathy in his eyes.
“Ja, for sure. But then…” William shrugged. “It seemed best to let it be. I thought maybe Barbara had gotten an Englisch friend to take her to a bus station.”
She wanted to blame him. Wanted to blame someone. But she understood. He’d been afraid for his younger brother and had assumed Barbara had gotten safely away.
“Why do you think Ephraim went to the old Angelo house today?” Link put the question, frowning as if he tried to piece things together.
“I don’t know.”
Ezra moved slightly. “If he wanted to see Marisa, that’s where he’d go, because he knew that was where she lived then, ain’t so?”
It made a certain amount of terrible sense to Marisa. “He was trying to warn me. That’s it, isn’t it?” Her voice broke. “The man…whoever it was, must have found him there.”
“Or followed him there.” Link seemed to be on the same wavelength. “He may have feared what might happen if you and Ephraim came together.”
“That’s speculation,” Adam said. “When—”
The door opened. This time it was the doctor. His gaze searched the room until he found her face.
“How is he?” She held her breath, afraid of the answer.
“He’s not out of danger yet. He has a severe concussion, and there may be some brain swelling.” The doctor glanced at the three Amish men. “You’re family, too?”
William nodded. “Will he get better?”
“We’ll have to monitor him closely for the next twenty-four hours, but if nothing more serious develops, I think he’ll recover.”
“Can he talk?” Adam went straight to the point that mattered to him.
“He hasn’t recovered consciousness, but he is muttering a little. You can’t question him, if that’s what you mean, but you can see him. And the family can sit with him.”
Adam gave a terse nod. “Larson, come along. I want a guard on his door at all times.” He went out, trailed by the patrolman. William and Bishop Amos followed.
Ezra made as if to go after them, but then he stopped. “There is something I must say to you.” His voice rasped, as if the words hurt him. “You were right. I was in the Millers’ yard those nights.”
It took an effort to bring her thoughts back to the moment when she’d looked out the window and seen someone. Seen Ezra. Her instinct had been right.
“But why? What did you want?”
“Nothing. Nothing. I chust…” That trailed off. He seemed to struggle to start again. “I heard Barbara’s daughter was there. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to see you, but it didn’t seem right.” He held up his hands, palms empty. “I cannot explain very well. But I never meant you any harm. You are Barbara’s child.”
He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and went out the door.
Barbara’s child, her mind repeated numbly. After all these years, he still grieved.
She blinked back tears, not sure she could take any more. “I’m going.”
Link put his hand on her arm. “Wait a minute, Marisa. Please.”
She fought against the warmth that went through her at
his touch. There was no future in letting herself hope.
“I should go. Ephraim doesn’t need me, now that William is here.” She pulled her arm free.
“Tell me something first. What on earth possessed you to go there without telling anyone? Are you trying to put yourself in danger?”
Anger came to her rescue. “Who would you suggest I tell? You?”
He took a step back, emotions battling in his face. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve made it clear you don’t want to take responsibility for anyone. Fine. I get that. You’re not responsible for me. And if you want to become the same kind of unhappy loner your uncle was, I’m certainly not going to stop you.”
She yanked the door open and rushed through it. But there was no need to hurry. He wasn’t coming after her.
The tide of anger carried her along until she reached the ground floor of the hospital. She was following exit signs down an empty corridor when she realized the truth—she had left her car parked in front of the house in Springville.
She’d have to call for a taxi. She turned, ready to go back to the lobby. She certainly wouldn’t ask Link for a ride, not after what she’d said.
What had possessed her? It might be true, but that didn’t mean she should have said it.
Her footsteps echoed on the tile floor, and she was so tired that the hallway seemed to stretch on indefinitely. She had to find Dad, tell him what had happened.
A sense of movement behind her…a vague shape glimpsed from the corner of her eye. And a blow sent her tumbling into blackness.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ADAM TUGGED LINK OUT of Ephraim’s hospital room, where William and Bishop Amos sat on either side of the boy’s bed while Ezra stood at the window.
Link glared at him. “Ephraim could say something that will solve this whole thing. Someone should be listening.”
“Bishop Amos will tell us if that happens,” Adam said. He frowned at the Larson kid, who looked like he was playing dress-up in his uniform. “No one goes in but family. Check with Bishop Amos. Right?”
The kid nodded. Gulped. “What about the doctors and nurses?”
Adam suppressed a sigh. “Yes, let them in. But make sure you check their ID badges.”
“Yessir. You can count on me.”
Adam didn’t look as if he found that reassuring. He glanced at Link. “I’ve got to get back to the scene. Why don’t you go home?”
“We’ve got to talk first.”
The elevator doors opened, letting out a group of Amish who were probably looking for Ephraim. A nurse scurried after them, herding them into the waiting room.
“I don’t have time—”
“Make time.” Link all but snarled the words, impelled by a sense that time was just what they were running out of. “In here.” He propelled Adam through the door to the chapel. Thankfully it was empty.
“Two minutes,” Adam said. “I have to get back. There’s got to be some evidence pointing to the identity of the third person who was in that house. Assuming there was anyone else there.”
Link fought down an intense desire to grab him by the shirt. “If you think Marisa hit that boy, you’re crazy.”
Adam sighed. “Personally, I think that Marisa Angelo is exactly what she seems to be. But I have to do my job. And I’m not so sure about her father. We haven’t located him yet this evening. He seems to drop out of sight just when he’s wanted.”
Link shook his head, hoping that would clear away the clouds. “I know you have to suspect the husband, but I think we’re missing a piece.”
“Missing?” Adam snorted. “If anything, we’ve got too many pieces—the husband, the Amish angle—either the boyfriend or the cousin, to say nothing of this whole business of the Brotherhood.”
“That’s just it. There are so many possibilities that we’re forgetting how we came to find Barbara’s body. The raven tile.”
Adam frowned, but he gestured with one hand. “Go on. I’m listening.”
Link tried to order his thoughts. “If I hadn’t remembered finding that tile years ago near the cave, we’d never have gone looking there. That has to mean something.”
Adam lifted an eyebrow. “You realize that train of thought leads back to your uncle.”
He knew, only too well. “Nothing but the truth is going to do for us now. When you combine the tile I found near where the body was hidden with those cryptic mentions in Allen’s journal, where does it lead?”
Adam’s impassive expression sometimes fooled people into thinking he was dumb. He wasn’t. A keen mind worked away at the problem.
“Okay. Just supposing. Suppose Allen was involved in a small group that was trying to resurrect the Brotherhood. A group of people who’d advance each other’s interests in any way, including bending the law. If someone—Barbara, say—overheard or saw something, one of those people might think she had to be gotten out of the way.”
Link nodded. “Here’s what I’m thinking. This person attacked her at Allen’s house while she was waiting for it to be time to meet William. Hid her suitcase in the wall, but he’d be smart enough to know he couldn’t get away with putting the body there. And he thought of the quarry.”
“Your uncle is the most likely person to fit that scenario,” Adam said.
Link frowned, dissatisfied. “What could she know that would threaten him? He never worried about his reputation, as far as I know. He didn’t have to worry about losing a job or a family if something adverse came to light.”
“True. But other people in his little group might not have been in the same position,” Adam said. “Someone could have had a lot to lose.”
“If Ephraim saw the person who killed Barbara…” Link frowned. “The killer might not have been sure how much he’d seen. Or he might have felt safe, knowing Ephraim’s condition, believing he’d forget all about it or didn’t understand what he saw. But then Marisa came back, and her presence upset Ephraim—maybe made him remember.”
Adam nodded slowly. “I like it. It uses more of the pieces than any other scenario. But we still need evidence, so I’ve got to get back to the house. You going home, or to see Marisa?”
Edginess had him almost twitching. “I don’t think Marisa wants to see me right now.”
“She’s been through a rough experience. She cares about you. Who else would she want to see?”
Link shrugged him off. “Don’t play Cupid, Adam. The role doesn’t suit you.”
Adam pulled the door open. “Deny it all you want. I know what I see.” He went quickly down the hall, headed for the stairs.
Link followed more slowly, taking the elevator down. Adam meant well, but things between him and Marisa were more complicated than Adam would believe.
Even so, he wanted to see her. Reaching the ground floor, he headed for the parking lot. It was just that he was smart enough not to start anything between them.
Smart enough? a small voice inside inquired. Or scared? Scared that if you get too close, you’ll let her down?
That didn’t have any good answer.
He crossed the parking lot toward his car, zipping up his jacket against the light rain that was falling. Forget it for now. By this time, Marisa would be falling into bed back at the Miller place. Tomorrow…well, maybe tomorrow things would be clearer.
Just as he reached the car, the text signal sounded on his cell.
He jerked it from his pocket impatiently and realized it was from Marisa. No, not Marisa. Just her phone.
If you want to see her alive again, come to the quarry. No police, or she dies.
He stared at it, disbelieving, for a long moment. Then he flung himself into the car, mind churning with incoherent prayers, started the car and peeled out of the parking lot.
Adam would kill him for not calling, but he couldn’t take the chance. Not with Marisa’s life.
If this was a trick—he grabbed the cell phone from his pocket, steering with one hand on the rain-wet road. Punched
in her number.
The phone rang. And rang. No answer.
No sooner had he clicked off than it rang. He snatched it up, heart pounding. “Marisa?”
“This is Russ Angelo. Where’s Marisa? She hasn’t come back to the B and B, and I can’t get her on her phone. I got your number from your mother.”
“I don’t…know.” No police, the text had said.
“What’s wrong?” Russ’s voice sharpened. “I can hear something’s wrong. What is it? Has something happened to her?”
Link hesitated. But she was Russ’s daughter. He had a right to know.
“I got a text from her phone. Someone has her. He told me to meet him at the quarry. No cops.”
Russ absorbed the blow with a sharp intake of breath. “Where are you?”
“Just coming off the highway toward Springville.
On my way to the quarry.”
“It’s a trap,” Russ said flatly.
“Yeah. I’m still going.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Link could think of a whole host of reasons why that was a bad idea. “You won’t know the way. I’m not waiting.”
“I don’t want you to wait. I know where it is. Just go.”
“Right.” Link clicked off, shoving the cell phone back in his pocket. What did he have in the car that could be used as a weapon, if it came to that? A tire iron. A flashlight. That was about it. All he could do was get there.
And pray he’d be in time.
SOMEONE GROANED pitifully. Marisa would help, but the pain in her head was so intense she couldn’t move to go to them. Then she realized that she was the one who had groaned.
No wonder. Her head felt as if it would fall off. As if that would be a relief.
She had to open her eyes and make some sense of this. Was she in the hospital? Her eyelids were as heavy as her head, but finally she got them open. She couldn’t see.
Panic ripped through her. Was she blind? She blinked, trying to focus. Or trapped in a place where the darkness was so intense that no light could penetrate?
She had to concentrate. To beat back the panic before it controlled her.
Please. Please. Help me.