Danger in Plain Sight (Hqn) Read online

  “Yes.” Doubt flickered in her eyes. “But that would be awfully coincidental.”

  “Why?” Frustration was getting the better of him. “How could your computer possibly link up with Esther’s letters?”

  Her jaw set with typical Morgan stubbornness. “I don’t know. But I still say it’s odd.”

  She wouldn’t admit it, he knew, but at least he’d succeeded in planting some doubt in her mind. “You just want to find a mystery in everything. Natural enough. You’re a reporter.”

  “Not anymore.” She clamped her lips together, looking as if she regretted saying the words.

  “Oh?” He stood. Waited. He could see she wanted to say more, but if he urged her, she’d back off. Libby hadn’t changed all that much, and he knew her too well.

  She smoothed still-damp hair back from the perfect oval of her face. “Yes, well, I lost my job. Quit, actually, but it came to the same thing.” Concern drew her brows together. “I haven’t told my mother yet, so don’t say anything.”

  “I won’t.” He waited, knowing there was more.

  “It had been coming on for a long time, actually.” She shrugged, moving restlessly around the kitchen table to the counter. “Too many crime scenes, too many photos of mangled cars and mangled bodies and burned-out buildings and…

  “The last straw was the scene of a gang shooting. The mother, crying over her son’s body. I was snapping shots, trying not to register what I was seeing, and all of a sudden the woman raised her head and looked right at me.”

  Her lips trembled, making him want to put his arms around her. She pressed her lips together, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

  “I told her I wouldn’t run the photo. I told my editor that. But he did it anyway. Said that was what a news reporter did, and if I couldn’t hack it, I should quit. I just stood there looking at him, and it all gelled in my mind. I didn’t belong there, taking pictures of one disaster after another. So I’m officially unemployed.”

  He couldn’t stay away from her any longer, but he contented himself with going to lean against the counter next to her, looking down at her averted face. “Why haven’t you told your mother yet? If I know Geneva, she’s likely to want to give you a medal for that.”

  Libby shook her head, still not looking at him. “I…I didn’t want to distract from the wedding. I’ll tell her. Then I’ll figure out what I’m going to do with my life.”

  His heart lurched at the bereft sound in her words. He leaned closer, needing to comfort her, wanting to tell her everything would work out—

  “Hello?” The front door banged. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?” Geneva’s light voice echoed in the hallway, and then she erupted into the kitchen. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s nothing, Mom.” Libby spoke quickly, before he could explain. “I thought I heard someone in the house earlier, so Adam came to check it out for me, but it was nothing.”

  Geneva eyed her searchingly, and then she turned the same gaze on him. “Is that all? Are you sure?”

  “I checked the whole house,” he said. Obviously Libby wanted to protect her mother from knowing anything about this. Admirable, but not very realistic. Geneva always found out about things, and she could never be persuaded to stay out of anything.

  “Nothing was missing?” Geneva glanced around, running a hand through her short gray curls. “How could someone get in?”

  “Through the doors you so obligingly left unlocked.” He gave her a stern frown. “What do you suppose Trey would say about that?”

  “Well, Trey’s off on his honeymoon, so he won’t know.” She gave him the winsome smile that had half the township ready to do whatever Geneva asked. “And you won’t tell him, will you?”

  “Not if you promise to be more careful in the future.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to the office. If anything turns up missing…”

  “We’ll call you,” Geneva said promptly. “But why don’t you come for supper? We can talk it over then. Along with whatever you two are trying to keep from me.”

  “We’re not—” Libby began, but let it drop at her mother’s look.

  “It’s nice of you to invite me, but I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he said quickly, moving toward the door.

  “You still have to eat,” Geneva said. “Come back around six. Link and Marisa will be here by then, and we can talk it over while we eat.” She smiled, seeming confident that he’d obey.

  Which he would. He couldn’t refuse Geneva anything. He owed her too much for that. She’d looked at the ragged, angry son of the town drunk and seen a person worth cultivating where the rest of the township had seen trash.

  He’d never forget what he owed her, as well as the rest of the Morgan family. Which was why any feelings he had for Libby were best buried…too deep to be found.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LIBBY GLANCED LONGINGLY at her bed, something she seemed to be doing a lot lately. She’d spent what was left of the day trying to get her operating system reloaded so that she could start downloading the files from her off-site storage. It had, of course, been a frustrating experience, but once she started, she hadn’t been willing to stop.

  Adam would probably say she was being obsessive about it, just as he so clearly thought she was obsessive about the attack on Esther.

  Why was she thinking about Adam again? She attacked her hair with the hairbrush. Being home, seeing him again, had brought up feelings she was sure she’d banished ages ago. Well, she’d just have to chase them back out. Anything else just led to problems—witness the fact that she’d opened up to him about her job, when she hadn’t told anyone else yet.

  She stared blindly into the mirror, seeing, instead of her own face, an image of that grieving mother. When their eyes met, it was as if she’d seen herself as she must appear to that poor woman.

  She’d seen a Libby she didn’t know. A Libby she didn’t like much. It wouldn’t have taken the final indignity of that fight with her editor. That moment had been the end of her career.

  Voices sounded from downstairs, and the clatter of china and silverware. She tossed the brush on the dresser. Time to stop going over these fruitless thoughts and get on with things.

  She hurried down the stairs, consciously trying for the usual spring to her step. The voices came from the dining room. She went in to find that Adam, Link and Marisa were all helping her mother get supper on the table.

  Of course. It was Sunday, and Mom’s usual Amish helpers didn’t work on the Sabbath.

  “You all look busy.” She forced the lilt into her voice. “What can I do?”

  “Put water in the glasses,” Link said promptly, glancing at her and then taking another, longer look and frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  So, maybe the twin connection between them hadn’t been entirely vanquished by his love for Marisa. “Nothing. I’ll get the water.” She escaped into the kitchen.

  Not that she wasn’t relieved to know the bond with Link still existed, but she hadn’t decided yet how much she wanted to tell her family. Always assuming that Adam didn’t take it out of her hands and tell them everything.

  With everyone helping, they had the simple meal on the table in no time.

  “Chicken potpie,” her mother said, taking her seat at the foot of the table nearest the kitchen. “Thomas Esch dropped it off from his mother right after church. She knew we’d be tired from the wedding, not that we did all the cooking, the way the Amish do for their weddings.”

  Libby frowned, trying to pick out the important fact from her mother’s tale. “Were you here when Thomas brought it, Mom?”

  Her mother gave her a wide-eyed look. “Of course, how else would I know what his mother said? Why? What difference does it make?”

  “None,” she said quickly, fearing she hadn’t been quick enough. She glanced at Adam, to make sure he hadn’t missed the implication. Whoever her mystery guest had been, it hadn’t been the neighbor bringing the ca
sserole. “How is Thomas?”

  The teenage son of their Amish neighbors had gone through a terrible ordeal during the summer, when he’d been accused of killing a woman. That was the case which had brought Jessica to Springville to defend him, and incidentally to fall in love with Trey.

  “He seems to be doing all right,” her mother said, frowning a little. “He’s very quiet, but at least he’s stopped refusing to leave the farm.”

  “Poor kid,” Link said. “If it hadn’t been for Trey and Jessica, I hate to think what would have happened to him.”

  “And your mother,” Adam added. “She’s the one who was determined to defend Thomas.”

  That action had had unintended consequences, as the investigation had eventually led to the man who’d killed Dad. Tough for all of them, but at least they no longer had to face the thought that he’d committed suicide.

  “Another case of the Morgan family butting into other people’s business,” Link said lightly. He put down his fork to cover Marisa’s hand with his. Marisa returned his look with one so tender that it nearly brought tears to Libby’s eyes.

  She didn’t envy them their happiness. Marisa was perfect for Link—gentle, kind, artistic, with a shy warmth that seemed to bring out Link’s gentleness. They’d met through a twist of fate just a few months ago, when Link had found a clue to the long-ago disappearance of Marisa’s Amish mother in the house their uncle left him.

  Link glanced at Adam. “I understand you made a house call this afternoon?” His tone made it a question.

  “Your sister heard someone in the house when she came back this afternoon,” Adam said, before anyone else could begin explanations. “She called me, so I came over and checked it out. Nothing seems to be missing.”

  She managed not to remind him of her computer. Pointless to keep going over it.

  Link’s expression darkened. “Are you sure? How did they get in?”

  Libby wasn’t going to give her mother away, but it seemed likely that Geneva’s guilty look had done that already.

  “Mom.” Link’s tone was close to a howl of frustration. “You left the house open again, didn’t you?”

  “It’s not going to happen again,” Adam said. “By the way, I thought you invited me here to pump me about the investigation.” He put a large forkful of chicken potpie in his mouth.

  “Not exactly that,” her mother said, clearly ready to change the subject. “But we do want to know what’s happening.”

  “We got a preliminary report back on the vehicle,” Adam said. “Based on the paint scrapings and the height at which the buggy was hit, we’re looking for a black pickup truck or van.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t exactly narrow it down a lot. I’d hate to guess how many there are in the county, and it doesn’t have to be someone local.”

  Link shook his head. “I’d think only a local was likely to be on Dahl Road at that hour. It’s not as if it’s midsummer, when you stumble over tourists everywhere you turn.”

  “I just don’t understand what Esther was doing there, for that matter.” Mom’s face crinkled in distress. “Where on earth was she going?”

  “Good question,” Link said. “It’s not on her way home from anywhere she’d be likely to go.” Everyone who knew the area and the Zook family would be bound to see that.

  “Your sister thinks Esther was coming to see her.” Adam’s tone expressed his doubt. “Based on Esther’s letters—”

  “Letters?” Mom was on that in an instant, as Libby had known she would be. “What letters?”

  Libby glared at Adam, but he spread his hands, as if to say that it had to come out. And he was probably right.

  “You know that Esther and I write to each other,” she said. “In the last few letters I received, Esther was worried about something. She was eager for me to get here, so that she could ask my advice about it. But by that time…” She let that trail off. It was obvious.

  “Elizabeth Amanda Morgan.” Mom was truly upset when she used all three names. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “Come on, Mom. When did I have a chance to? When we were rushing off to the rehearsal, or scurrying around hosting the rehearsal dinner? You’ve been so preoccupied with Trey’s wedding that there was no time for anything else. As you should be,” she added hastily. “I brought the letters with me because I wanted to hear what you thought of them, but…” She shrugged.

  “You think the hit-and-run was connected to this whatever-it-was that had Esther worried.” Link could connect the dots quickly when it came to how his twin thought.

  “I think so.” She darted a glance at Adam. “Adam doesn’t agree.”

  “You don’t have any idea what she meant?” Marisa’s brown eyes were warm with concern.

  Libby shook her head. “I asked Rebecca, Esther’s mother, if she’d noticed that Esther was upset lately, but she said no. She said…” She stopped, frowning.

  “She said what?” Adam’s tone demanded an answer.

  “She said Esther seemed fine, but that Isaac had been upset about something. But that can’t have been what Esther wrote to me about. She wouldn’t want my advice on handling her brother.”

  “No.” Link said the word slowly. “You’re right. If she wanted your help, it would have to be something that involved the English.”

  “The English and the Amish,” Mom amended. “If it was strictly an English concern, Esther wouldn’t be involved.”

  “True.” Adam looked as if he’d prefer not to be discussing this at the Morgan dinner table. “I’ve been thinking about it since Libby mentioned the letters, but I’m drawing a blank.”

  “Could we see the letters?” Marisa asked. “Maybe we’d pick up on…well, not anything you missed. But sometimes a different viewpoint helps in seeing something more clearly.”

  Libby made an effort not to resent that. Marisa meant well. “I’ll get them.” She slid from her chair.

  But getting the letters proved more difficult than she anticipated. She’d put them in the case she always carried on a plane, one that contained her laptop and any work she had with her.

  It wasn’t in her room. She came back down the stairs, not looking toward the dining room to encounter any skeptical stares, and hurried into the family room, hearing the familiar squeak of the board.

  It wasn’t there. Surely she’d left it next to the desk, hadn’t she, when she took the computer out?

  She went back to the archway into the dining room. “It looks as if something was taken after all this afternoon. My computer case is missing.”

  “Are you sure you looked everywhere?” Her mother sprang up, always ready to jump into the finding of lost objects. “Where did you last have it?”

  That was the same thing she’d always asked when homework was missing.

  “It had to be either in my bedroom or by the desk in the family room. It’s not at either place.” She couldn’t help giving Adam a challenging look. Maybe now he’d admit that she was right.

  “Oh, dear.” Her mother sounded guilty. “You know, when I was rushing around trying to make sure the house was picked up in case anyone came back here after the wedding, it’s possible that I moved it. I don’t remember doing that, but you know what I’m like when I clean up.”

  She did indeed. Mom’s clean sweeps were legendary. Things that were put away at Christmas sometimes didn’t turn up until Easter.

  “I’ll have a good look around for it later,” her mother said. “If it’s here, I’ll find it. And anyway, when Esther wakes up, she’ll be able to tell us all about whatever it was.”

  If, Libby thought, unable to help herself. If Esther woke up. If she remembered.

  A chill went down her spine. And if the person who’d hit her buggy heard that Esther was waking up, what might he do to keep her from talking?

  * * *

  LIBBY SLEPT LATER than she’d intended the next morning, and she hurried down the stairs, intent on grabbing something to eat before she went to
the hospital. The house was quiet. She could only hope Mom was sleeping in this morning. She’d been looking tired after all the festivities, though of course she’d never admit it.

  There was no sign of her mother, but when Libby reached the kitchen, Link was there, nursing a mug of coffee with the morning paper spread out on the table in front of him.

  “Hey, little sister.” He looked up, his lean face, tanned even in winter, relaxing in a grin. “I thought you’d sleep till noon today.”

  She gave him the light slap on the back of the head that had passed for a hug when they were teenagers. “We’re twins. I am not your little sister.” The familiar banter was comforting.

  Link caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m twenty minutes older. That makes you my little sister. Coffee?” He stood, lifting the coffeepot.

  “Sounds great.” She found a half grapefruit in the fridge, already cut the way she liked it, and set it on the table.

  Link put the coffee mug next to the grapefruit and shoved the sugar bowl in her direction. “How about a sticky bun? Or walnut streusel coffee cake?”

  “Coffee cake.” She sat down, eyeing her twin with suspicion. “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

  He put a slab of coffee cake in front of her, his grin sheepish. “How about an idea of what to get Marisa for Christmas?”

  “You haven’t done your shopping yet?” She stared at him with horror that wasn’t entirely teasing. “It’s only two days until Christmas. What on earth have you been doing?”

  He shrugged. “Getting my brother married off, same as you. Anyway, I can’t decide. It has to be just right. This is our first Christmas together.”

  Libby repressed a pang of envy. “Christmas did kind of get lost in the shuffle, with Trey and Jessica getting married the week before. But you know Marisa better than I do. What do you think she’d like?”

  Manlike, he shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe a flat screen television?”

  “So she could watch sports?” She let sarcasm creep into her voice. “That’s what you want. What about jewelry?”