by Marta Perry
But now he had to focus on what was important. This might well be a wild-goose chase. Still, he had the feeling that much of what happened lately had its roots in the relationships of those four people. He couldn’t look at the theft, if that’s what it was, in isolation. If he could get an honest insight in the way those people worked together, it could go a long way toward explaining what had happened.
It wouldn’t resolve the question of where Paul Hartline and the missing material were, but it was hard to tell what might be important. Besides, there was nothing he could do in Philly that Logan and their staff couldn’t do as well.
A couple of hours’ drive brought him to the small city in New York State that was home to Michael Leonard. He exited the interstate and followed the GPS toward the thriving electronics division of a major company.
The facility was so spread out that he wasted time trying to find the right building, but eventually he was seated in a bland conference room that looked just like every other one he’d been in. Across from him, Michael Leonard sat, frowning. He’d agreed to meet, but looked like he wasn’t happy about it.
Clint took a couple of minutes to assess the man before plunging into the topic of his visit. Midthirties, he’d guess, with already thinning hair and a slightly stooped look, as if he spent his time bending over schematics. He seemed fit enough, though, and gave the impression of someone suited with his place in life and not eager to take on anything that might upset it. Too bad he hadn’t invited Clint into his office—a personal office told a lot more about a man.
“You wanted to talk to me about Paul Hartline.” Leonard seemed to get tired of waiting for him to begin. “Is Paul in some sort of trouble?”
He hesitated, but he sensed he wouldn’t get much unless he was relatively forthcoming. “He may be. It looks as if he might have tried to share Attwood Industrial secrets to another firm.”
Leonard’s frown deepened. “That isn’t what I thought you were going to say. People change, of course, but I’d have said Paul would be loyal to Attwood’s clique no matter what personal failings he had.”
Clint raised an eyebrow. “You knew about his gambling habit, did you?”
The man relaxed. “If you know about it already, then I don’t have to be tactful. Yeah, even as far back as when I first met him, he couldn’t resist making a bet on anything and everything...whether you were going to have a pop quiz in class, whether it was going to rain on Saturday...especially the results of any sporting event. He even organized betting on the football team.” His mouth slid into a slight smile. “He’d bet against his own college team if he thought he’d win.”
“But you still say he’d be loyal to Attwood?”
Leonard looked down at his hands for a moment. “I would, yeah. Thing was, Attwood needed that kind of loyalty.”
“Needed?” His ears perked up at that.
Leonard met his eyes, suddenly suspicious. “I thought it was Hartline you wanted to know about.”
“All four of them, in fact.” He hesitated. “Like I said on the phone, our security company is supposed to sort this situation out. It’s hard to do that without understanding the dynamics among those four.”
“I get that. It always was.” He smiled suddenly. “But you’ve got it wrong in one way. Originally there weren’t four, there were five.”
“Five,” Clint repeated. “Including you, then.”
“That’s it. Five of us, planning how we’d conquer the world over beers in the tavern and in late-night gab sessions. We figured we could do it all, and among us we’d have the different talents we needed to make a go of it.”
“You were in the same field as Attwood, then?”
He nodded. “Me, James and Ian were the scientific brains, of course, but Ian always took the subordinate role. He knew he didn’t have that spark of invention James and I had, but he had a gift for testing the most unlikely ideas until they were proved or disproved. Claire was our business manager, and Paul could sell anything, including himself.”
Clint realized the man was enjoying his reminiscences, smiling a little at the thought of those days. Still, something had clearly gone wrong.
“So what happened?” he asked bluntly. “They’re in Philadelphia running the company you planned and you’re here.”
“This is a good place to be.” He said it defiantly. “I’ve got a decent lab and plenty of money behind me. To say nothing of a wife and kid. I don’t need to chase jackpots anymore.”
“I can see that,” he said. “Most people settle into the lives they want eventually. Still, it isn’t what you’d planned. So what happened?”
Leonard’s face hardened. “What happened was that I discovered all that loyalty to each other only extended so far. When push came to shove and a big grant was in the balance, someone sabotaged the work I was ready to present.”
“Attwood?”
He shrugged. “It could have been any of them. We’d gone out celebrating, and my computer was accessible to all of them. In any event, the grant went to Attwood. He swore he had nothing to do with what happened. Maybe he didn’t. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to figure that James Attwood was the better meal ticket. Anyway, that ended our relationship. Good thing, too. I’m better off.”
Clint suspected Michael Leonard wasn’t quite convinced of that himself—maybe still suffering from a sense of having been done out of what was his. But whether he meant it or not, it might well be true. Someone was going to take the fall for what had happened at Attwood Industrial, and Leonard might consider himself well out of it.
* * *
RACHEL SPENT ANOTHER good day with the family, but she couldn’t help thinking about Paul. Where was he? How likely was it that he could resolve his problems in a way that left her in the clear?
And what was Clint finding out from that college friend? She realized she was hoping he’d return to the farm before heading back to the city. Only so she’d be kept up to date, she told herself. Not because she wanted to see him again.
By evening, Rachel felt a passionate desire to be alone. Solitude was one thing that was missing in Amish family life, and she’d grown used to having time on her own each day. So once the children had gone off to get ready for bed, she settled on the back porch swing. If Clint did call, she’d have a little privacy.
On the heels of the thought, her grandmother pushed the door open and stepped out on the porch. “It’s getting chilly out here. I brought you a wrap.” She swung a black shawl of her own around Rachel’s shoulders.
Rachel scooted over. “Sit with me, unless it’s too cold for you.” It was one thing to long for privacy and quite another to say so to someone who loved you.
Sitting, Grossmammi’s feet barely touched the floor. She noticed Rachel’s glance and smiled. “We grow smaller when we get old. Your grandfather teases me about getting a ladder so I can reach the kitchen shelves.”
“He’ll just have to get things down for you.” Rachel put her hand over her grandmother’s, realizing that the bones felt as fragile as a bird’s. She should be coming to visit more often, instead of just when she needed something.
“Have you heard from your friend yet?”
“Clint? No, nothing yet.” She wasn’t sure how to explain the relationship between herself and Clint, but she didn’t think it was friendship. “He may not be able to tell me everything he finds out, because it’s his job, you see.”
She nodded. “Josiah said he seems to be an honorable man.”
If her grandfather had said that, it was high praise based on a very short acquaintance. She’d have to hope he was right.
“You are still feeling sorrow for Paul, ain’t so?”
The simple question opened up a whole train of thought she’d rather not focus on. “I guess I am.” She tried to stop at that, but words seemed to force themselves out, almost against her wi
ll. “If I’d paid attention, I’d have known when I brought Paul here that a marriage between us would lead to grief. All of you tried, but you didn’t like him, did you?”
Grossmammi was silent for a moment. “Let us say rather that we didn’t trust him with our precious girl’s happiness.”
“I’d like to convince myself that you saw more than I did, but that wouldn’t be true. I knew, even then. The warning signs were all there, but I rushed ahead, anyway.”
“Yah.” Their hands were clasped, and Rachel felt her grandmother’s warmth. “We understood. You were longing for the settled home your mammi never gave you. We have always felt so guilty about it.”
“Guilty?” That shocked her out of her self-absorption. “You weren’t to blame for what happened. My mother rushed into marriage under the spell of infatuation, leaving behind everything that should have been important to her. And when it wasn’t what she expected, she rushed on to another relationship. It certainly wasn’t your fault. You did your best for her and for me.”
“Not enough.” She smoothed her palm over Rachel’s hand and patted it. “Is she... How is she now?” Pain threaded the words.
Rachel longed to say something that would make it better, but there weren’t any words for that. “She seems well,” she said carefully. “The place where she lives has lots of activities for older people, like card parties and trips. I’d say she’s as content as I’ve ever seen her.”
Tears glistened in her grandmother’s eyes. “Poor child. She spent her life looking for happiness. But happiness isn’t something you find. It’s something that comes along unexpected when you’re doing the right thing.”
Rachel’s throat was too choked for words. Her grandmother had summed up a whole philosophy of life in a few words. How much of her own regret came from looking for happiness as if it were a hidden treasure she could find?
Before she could find a way to respond, the phone buzzed. Rachel hurried to pull it out. “It’s Clint.”
Her grandmother slid off the swing and patted her cheek in what almost seemed a blessing. “I’ll leave you to talk.”
As the door closed behind her, Rachel connected, discovering that her breathing had quickened. Maybe Clint would have some answers.
“What took you so long to answer? Is anything wrong?”
Rachel didn’t want to be warmed by his concern or annoyed by his barking at her.
“My grandmother was leaving to give me some privacy to talk. Nothing’s wrong, except that I’ve been hoping to hear something from you all day. Where are you?”
“On my way back to the city. Any problems there?”
So he wasn’t coming back here, after all. She tried not to feel disappointed. “No problems. I realized that the name of the person you were looking for seemed familiar, but I don’t think I ever met him.”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t have. He was apparently fairly close to Attwood and the others when they were in school. In the same line of study, in fact.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. “Was he helpful? Did he know anything about why Paul did it or what he’s going to do now?”
There was a pause, as if she’d caught him by surprise. “He hadn’t heard from Paul in years, from what he said.”
“Right. I understand.”
She had to remind herself that Clint’s primary purpose was to regain the file. He’d want to learn anything that might help him with that, but she suspected he didn’t think Paul was likely to do the right thing in his situation. And he probably thought he already knew Paul’s motivation. Money.
“It’s natural to be worried when someone you care about is missing.” He sounded awkward. Strained, maybe. “But there’s nothing new on him.”
Did he think her concern meant that she was still in love with Paul? She hovered on the brink of trying to explain herself but rejected the idea. It didn’t matter what Clint thought of her motives. Nothing mattered except finding Paul and getting him to do the right thing before he took her down with him.
“If he doesn’t turn up soon, Attwood will probably go to the police, won’t he?”
She cringed away from that thought. Attwood had threatened to prosecute her. If that happened, even if nothing was ever proved against her, the resulting publicity could destroy her teaching career. Worse, it could hurt the school she and Lyn had worked so hard to build. A small private school like theirs lived and died by its reputation.
She wouldn’t take that risk. If the worst happened, she had to separate herself from Lyn and the school.
“He doesn’t want to go to the police. My partner says he’s still determined not to unleash any negative publicity, especially since, according to him, the idea they were developing might turn out to be a dud, anyway.”
“I hope that’s true. I mean, not that it’s a dud, but that it doesn’t become public knowledge. About this man you saw today...”
“Look, we’d better wind this up.” Clint’s tone was hurried. “Your grandparents...”
She got the message. He didn’t intend to share what he’d learned, if anything. She tried to convince herself that was only to be expected.
“They understand that I have to cooperate with you, under the circumstances. Anyway, I’m out on the back porch where there’s no one to be bothered.”
“Bad idea,” he said quickly. “I told you not to go off on your own, and...”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m perfectly safe sitting on the back porch within shouting distance of the whole family.”
“Go inside, and then you won’t have to shout.” He sounded exasperated again.
“Fine. Goodbye.” Thoroughly annoyed, she ended the call. Maybe nobody had ever told Clint that snapping at someone wasn’t a great way to gain their cooperation.
She stowed the cell phone away. She’d have to charge it again soon—the generator that ran the milk cooling tanks should work, but she wasn’t foolish enough to go wandering out there after dark, no matter what Clint thought of her judgment.
She would not hurry inside just because Clint thought he knew better than she did. She’d sit here and enjoy the peace and stillness. Wrapping her grandmother’s thick black shawl around her, she settled back on the swing.
The stars were so much brighter here than they could ever be in the city, and the sliver of a crescent moon hung above the ridge. It was quiet...so quiet that even from this distance she could hear the movement of the buggy horses in their stalls.
And something else. Focusing, she tried to isolate the faint rustling noise, realizing it came from the row of blueberry bushes off to her right. An animal of some sort, moving in search of prey under the cover of darkness. At the moment, all her sympathies were with the hunted.
The relaxation she’d hoped for eluded her. If only she could pick up the phone and talk with Lyn, her friend’s common-sense attitude might bring the world back into something approaching normal, but she didn’t dare.
Telling herself she was being paranoid didn’t help. If she couldn’t do anything else about this mess, she could stop turning to Lyn, involving her. It was too hard to separate Lyn’s role as head teacher from her role as good friend.
She had to act on her own. It was the right thing to do. It was also very lonely.
Another rustle came from the blueberry bushes. She turned, the swing creaking as she did, trying to see what was there. The rustling noise ceased in that instant, as if the hunter were alarmed by her presence.
Hunter. Hunted. She didn’t like that train of thought. No one could know where she was, she reminded herself. But her peaceful moment was destroyed, and her nerves jangled with alarm. The memory of arms grabbing her from behind was suddenly too vivid to be ignored.
She stood, leaving the swing lurching, and hurried into the house.
* * *
CLINT FROWNED AT the phone. Now w
hat did she have to be annoyed about? He was just trying to keep her safe. Almost at once another call came through. He hit the answer button.
“Hey, what’s up, Logan?”
“I just got a report. Paul Hartline’s car has been found abandoned in St. Davids.”
His adrenaline began to pump. Finally, a break. “Stolen?”
“It doesn’t look like it. I’m going down to check it out, but I figured you’d want to see for yourself. What’s your ETA?”
He checked his watch. “I’m nearly to the blue route. I’ll meet you there.”
After getting the address, he focused on what came next. Search the car, and maybe there’d be a lead on where Hartline had gone. And maybe he’d come back for it. Wouldn’t that be nice if he’d walk right into their hands?
An hour later, he shoved himself away from Hartline’s car and glared at it. “Finding the car should have led us somewhere, but it’s just another dead end.”
“This case is full of dead ends,” Logan muttered. “I could do with seeing a little daylight.”
“Yeah. Well, let’s get out of here before some helpful neighbor decides to call the cops. It’s not leading us...” Clint stopped, looking at the idea that had just popped into his head. “We didn’t check underneath.”
Logan blinked. “What for? You think he rigged the car in some way?”
“Not that.” He knelt and swung the flashlight beam under the vehicle.
A car drove slowly past and then pulled into a driveway a few houses down. “Hurry up,” Logan muttered. “We’re going to have company in a minute.”
“Just wait.” He had to stretch to reach it, but his fingers closed around the object attached to the frame. With a quick jerk, he pulled it free and got to his feet.
Logan gave a low whistle. “So somebody wanted to know where Hartline went.”
“Who?” This raised more questions than answers. “More important, did they find him?”
Logan ran a hand through his hair. “Inquiring neighbor headed this way. Let’s find some coffee before we start analyzing. I don’t want to explain what we’re doing to the local cops.”