Murder in Plain Sight (9 page)

She opened her laptop and switched it on, sink
ing into the padded desk chair. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to have the use of your office.”

“Motel room getting you down?” he asked.

She nodded, opening her e-mail. “Too small, terrible lighting and a desk that wobbles hopelessly.” To say nothing of too many uncomfortable…well, scary…moments that reminded her of how alone she was.

The truth was, quite aside from the convenience of the office, she enjoyed Leo’s company. Unlike the premises of Henderson, Dawes and Henderson, this office wasn’t permeated with the aroma of ambition.

“I enjoy having you here,” Leo said. “Brings a little life into the old place.” He glanced around the comfortably old-fashioned office, giving a sigh that he might not have been aware of. “I have to confess, I’ll miss it.”

“People will miss you, I’m sure.” She’d already seen the parade of people with problems who came through Leo’s office and left convinced their affairs were in good hands. Maybe they weren’t the kind of cases Henderson, Dawes and Henderson dealt with, but they were important to the people involved.

“Ah, well, no use looking back. I’ve made my decision. It’s time to retire.” As if to belie his
words, Leo sat down with a sheaf of papers from the discovery box and began going through them. “How did you make out with Thomas’s parents yesterday?”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “Not bad, although I’m not sure I’d have gotten anything out of them if not for the combined efforts of Trey and Bishop Amos. And even at that, the family didn’t have anything really helpful to say. I think the father would have jumped at a plea bargain, not that one will be offered, just to have it over with.”

“I suspect his feelings are more complicated than that. Being separate from the world, living humbly—those things are the essence of the Amish. To be caught up in the English legal system and find themselves on the front page of the paper…”

Leo shoved his glasses up on his white hair and nodded toward the morning paper on the edge of his desk. The front page bore a photo of Trey pulling the Esch children away from the press. “Trey has a certain amount in common with the Amish in that respect. I don’t suppose he’s any too happy this morning to see that picture.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Trey insists he doesn’t want to be involved. Declares he’s only in it to protect Geneva. But the instant he saw those
children surrounded by reporters, he charged in like Sir Galahad.”

Leo chuckled. “That’s Trey all right. He inherited his mother’s caring combined with his father’s sense of duty. That can put a heavy load on a person, trying to take responsibility for everyone else all the time.”

“Not everyone wants to be taken care of.” The words came out sharply enough that she was afraid she’d given herself away.

Leo slid his glasses into place and gave her a speculative glance. “I suppose that’s true, but you’d have a hard time convincing Trey of that.”

She didn’t intend to try, but maybe it was time to change the subject. This one was getting into uncomfortable territory. Her feelings on that subject went too deep—back to her mother’s death, back to her sense of abandonment when her father sent her away. She’d survived by learning to stand on her own. Independence was a good thing. She didn’t want, or need, to lean on anyone.

“Trey is going to exercise his need to take care of people by helping me interview the Amish kids that Thomas runs around with, especially those who were at that party. And I have to talk to the English kids, as well.”
English
—she was starting to talk
like these people. “I notice the police interviewed a man named Charles Fulton. Apparently he was an on-again/off-again boyfriend of Cherry’s. Do you know anything about him?”

“Chip Fulton? I know who he is. Trey might be able to tell you more, since he’s closer in age.”

Naturally. Everything she needed, someone expected her to turn to Trey.

“He works at Walbeck’s Garage and lives outside of Springville,” Leo continued. “He’s been in trouble with the law once or twice, as I recall, although nothing very serious. DUI, maybe assault.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “He might be a more likely candidate for murderer than Thomas, but you can’t get away from the physical evidence. You know as well as I do that ‘I don’t remember’ isn’t going to be an adequate defense. I have to provide the jury with a version of the crime they can buy into.”

“Juries can be unexpected.” Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, every potential juror in the county is being affected right now by the press coverage.”

“I’ve thought about filing a change-of-venue motion, but there are as many things against that as for it. At least here the potential jurors probably understand the Amish culture. I’m barely
beginning to understand it myself, and trying to explain to a jury…” She let that trail off, sure that Leo understood.

Frustrated, she turned to the box. She had to go through it carefully, searching for the bit of wheat among all the chaff it undoubtedly contained.

A few minutes later she sank back in her chair, looking in disbelief at a sheet of paper from the evidence box. She glanced over at Leo, to find him watching her, obviously noting the change in her expression.

“Something interesting?” he asked.

“Something that explains why the D.A. was so slow in releasing the evidence, I’ll bet. This was buried at the bottom of the box. The results of the blood tests on Thomas and Cherry.”

She handed it to him then went and stood behind him, reading it again as he scanned quickly down through the results.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “According to this, there was a whopping amount of Rohypnol in Thomas’s system. Thomas’s. And none in Cherry’s.”

“Date-rape drug,” she said slowly. “That explains why Thomas doesn’t remember anything. I’ve done some research on it in relation to a case.” One of
Henderson’s wealthy clients, in fact. She’d been expected to make the case go away. “Victims experience amnesia in regard to anything that happened while under the influence.”

He nodded. “Like Thomas. It wasn’t the drinking. It was the drug. But it’s all the wrong way around. Why would Thomas be drugged?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not sure it would be possible for Thomas to have performed a violent act while under the influence, although I suppose the D.A. could argue that the murder happened before the drug had taken effect.”

Leo reached for his address book. “We need an expert opinion. I know someone in Harrisburg, unless you have a person the firm uses.”

“No, go ahead and call your guy.” She wasn’t sure how Henderson would respond to that request. He’d obviously thought this case would end in a simple plea bargain. If he’d imagined it could have turned into much of a case, he wouldn’t have sent her. “In the meantime, I’m going to call the D.A. He can’t be as sure of his case now as he was.”

A spurt of enthusiasm flowed through Jessica, and her mind began ticking over possibilities. The D.A. might come forth with a more reasonable plea-bargain offer, although she doubted that
Geneva would want to accept any deal. And maybe Geneva had been right all along. Thomas just might be innocent.

T
REY WAS BACK BEHIND
the wheel of the truck again, ferrying Jessica in search of kids who’d been at the party. Working together like this had begun to feel familiar—maybe too easy and familiar.

“Thanks again for helping out with this.” Jessica sounded cool, as if she were as intent as he was on setting boundaries. “I’m sure I’m taking you away from work.”

He shrugged. “I went into the office early to go through some papers that needed my attention. I’ll catch up, eventually. And you’ll get through this faster with someone who knows his way around. Besides, I know a few of these families, so it might help to have me along.”

The truth was that he’d been ignoring a lot that should be done at the office because of this situation. But if he didn’t help Jessica, he had a feeling his mother would, and he shuddered at the thought of Mom playing Nancy Drew.

“Your office is in Springville?” She glanced at him. “I confess, I hadn’t pictured you in an office setting.”

“Because of the khakis and sport shirt? This is considered dressy around here. Anyway, I’m the boss. I can wear what I want. You should see casual Friday.”

That got a faint smile from her. “I’d intended to talk to Cherry Wilson’s employer and coworkers today, but this drug-test report makes it more crucial to talk with people who were at the party.”

“You figure that’s where Thomas was given the drug?”

“I think so.” Her forehead wrinkled. “According to the research I’ve done, Rohypnol causes a sleepy, relaxed, drunk feeling, and the victim may forget everything that happened. The last thing Thomas remembers about that night was being at the party.”

“Makes sense.” His fingers tightened on the wheel at the thought of someone doing that to any kid, let alone one as inexperienced and trusting as Thomas. “If that’s the case, you might argue that he couldn’t have become violent.”

“We talked about that, but we need more than supposition. Leo is contacting an expert to go over
the findings for us. The problem with experts is that juries tend to distrust them. The prosecution brings on theirs, we bring on ours…it can just be a wash. We need to find someone who saw Thomas either being drugged or under the influence. Unfortunately, teenagers tend to clam up in the face of authority.”

He shot another glance at Jessica, reading the determination in the set of her jaw. “That sounds like the voice of experience speaking.”

“Me?” She looked startled. “I had the most boring adolescence of all time. We lived in Boston, but I didn’t go to public schools. My father sent me to a strict girls’ boarding school. Most of us were too scared of the administration to party, even if we could have gotten off-campus.”

“That sounds a little…lonely.” In comparison with his childhood, certainly. His younger brother and sister had kept things lively. And even though Mom and Dad could have sent them to private school, as far as he could tell they’d never even considered it.

Jessica shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. My mother died when I was young, and with my father’s career…well, he didn’t have much time.”

He’d looked up Jessica’s illustrious father when
he was trying to find out more about her. It sounded as if his only child had been sacrificed to his judicial advancement.

“No other relatives?”

“No one we were close to.” She seemed to shake off childhood memories. “Anyway, I’m sure you know more about the party scene around here than I ever could.”

He had to respect her changing the subject. “I went to a few in my time,” he admitted. “But I think those were pretty tame in comparison to what kids get up to now.”

“That may make it even harder to get any of them to open up,” she said.

“All we can do is try. I didn’t realize defense attorneys had to be detectives, too.”

Her lips curved. “I admit, it’s not in the job description. But this isn’t an ordinary situation. Right now…” She lifted her hands, palms up. “Right now I don’t have much to take to trial.” Her eyes darkened, and he could feel the tension building in her. “Maybe I ought to be trying harder for a plea-bargain offer.”

“You said the only reason the D.A. would come up with an offer was because he didn’t want to have
to explain how the drug report fits into his version of the crime.”

He’d been surprised that Jessica had confided that much information in him. Maybe she’d felt that he had to know that much in order to help with the teens. Or maybe she was beginning to trust him.

“True, but I still have to come up with an alternate version of the story. If not—”

“We’ll find something,” he said. They had to.

“We?” Her gaze seemed to sizzle on his face. “You’re suddenly sounding like this is about more than keeping your mother out of trouble. I should think you’d be jumping at the chance to take a plea and get the case off the front pages as quickly as possible.”

“You must not think much of me if you assume I want to see that kid go to prison.” His fingers tightened on the wheel.

“If you still think he’s guilty—”

“I don’t.” He might as well get this said. “Or at least, I’m not sure. That drug report—maybe my mother had it right all along. If there’s a chance Thomas is innocent, I have to help.”

“A lot of people wouldn’t see it that way. A lot of people would say it wasn’t any of their business.”

“Those people weren’t raised by my parents. They lived their beliefs every day of their lives.”

“You were lucky, having parents like that.”

Something in her voice made him look at her. She’d turned her face away, but the curve of her neck looked…vulnerable.

“Your family—” he began.

“There’s the street.” She cut him off. Clearly the topic of her family was off-limits.

He made the turn, letting the subject drop. But not forgetting it. He was fortunate in his family. Maybe Jessica wasn’t so lucky.

Pulling to the curb, he took a moment to survey the house, a fairly new, upper-middle-class mini-mansion in one of the developments that had sprouted up recently on the outskirts of Lancaster. What was a girl from a house like this doing partying with an Amish kid?

Jessica was already getting out, and he followed her up the walk. The girl must have been watching for them, because she opened the door before they had a chance to knock.

“Hi. Are you Dani Cresswood?” Jessica struck a nice balance between formal and friendly.

The girl, in jeans and a T-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail, clutched the door. “I really can’t tell
you anything more than what I told the police. I don’t remember anything else.”

She meant she wouldn’t admit to knowing, he suspected.

“Let’s just go over it together,” Jessica said. “Something may pop into your mind that you didn’t think of before this. May we come in?”

Dani stepped back, still holding the door. She gestured them into the formal living room to the right of the center hallway. Probably the better to get them back out the door, he’d think.

“My mom will be back in half an hour. We’d better get this over before then. She doesn’t want me talking about it.” She rolled her eyes. “Like it will disappear if I don’t talk about it.”

“Let’s get on with it, then.” Sitting down, Jessica pulled a typewritten sheet from her leather briefcase. “I have here a copy of the statement you gave to the police.”

Dani’s eyes widened. “How did you get that?”

“The district attorney is required to turn over all evidence to the defendant’s lawyer,” Jessica said. “That’s only fair. You want to be fair to Thomas, don’t you?”

“If he killed Cherry…” She let that die out.

“If,” Jessica said. “That hasn’t been proved
yet. Everyone is entitled to a fair trial, don’t you think?”

“You have an obligation to cooperate.” Trey suspected Jessica wouldn’t appreciate his interceding, but that’s why he was here, wasn’t it? He wasn’t just a chauffeur.

That earned him a pout and a sideways glance from the girl. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s everybody’s business to help when they can.” What he’d said to Jessica about the Morgans wasn’t just a family custom. It was the belief he lived by, even when his worries about his mother got the better of him.

The pout deepened, and Dani shrugged. “Well, I’d help if I could, but I don’t know anything.”

“Did you see Thomas at the party that night?” Jessica had her pen poised over the police report, probably ready to spring on any inconsistencies.

“Well, yeah, I guess. But I didn’t talk to him.” She sounded as if she thought she should get points for that.

“Had you seen him at other parties?”

She considered. “I guess, maybe. There were a few Amish kids who came around.”

“And Cherry? Did you see her?”

Jessica sounded patient, even though it seemed
like slow going to him. He’d plunge right into the pertinent question. Did you see anyone slip something into Thomas’s drink? That was what they needed to know.

Dani nodded. “I didn’t know who she was at first, but somebody told me she liked to come to parties. I don’t know why.” Her nose wrinkled. “She was old.”

Twenty-four. Well, to this kid that probably seemed ancient.

“Was Thomas drinking?”

“Yeah. Well, he must have been. Everybody was.”

“Think about it,” Jessica urged. “Try to picture him in your mind the way you saw him that night.”

Dani obediently closed her eyes. “Okay, yeah,” she said finally. “He had a beer can in one hand. He’d put it down when he was dancing, but I’m sure I saw him with one.”

And if he put it down to dance, anyone could have tampered with it.

“It looks as if someone put something in Thomas’s drink at the party,” Jessica said. “Did you see—”

“No!” Dani shied away from that. Apparently
beer was one thing, even though she was obviously underage, but drugs were another. “I don’t know anything about any drugs. Nobody was doing drugs at that party. They wouldn’t, and if they had been, I’d have left.” She rose. “I think I shouldn’t talk to you anymore without my folks being here.”

“Dani, I’m just trying to get at the truth about what happened. I’m not accusing you. If you saw anything to indicate that Thomas was under the influence—”

“I didn’t, okay? It’s not like I was watching him, but when I saw him, he looked fine.” She clamped her mouth shut. Then she marched to the door and opened it.

They followed her. Jessica paused on the doorstep to press a card into the girl’s hand. “If you think of anything, call me.”

No response. This kid was so intent on protecting herself, and probably her friends, that she wouldn’t do a thing to help.

And that was exactly what he’d been doing…so eager to protect his mother that he’d forgotten that there were other people who needed help. He glanced at Jessica as they walked toward the car. She needed his help, although she didn’t want to admit it. Thomas did, too.

What he’d said to Jessica was the simple truth. He’d been brought up to take responsibility. And from this point on, he was in this to stay.

J
ESSICA SHOULD HAVE SAID
no to the invitation to dinner at Geneva’s that night. Just as she should have done something to stop the growing attraction she felt for Trey. She missed on both counts.

She set the plate that had contained a slice of rhubarb pie on the end table next to her. The living room glowed with a mellow light from a pair of brass table lamps. The other three probably felt as sated as she did after the meal Geneva had served.

Trey sat in a worn leather armchair that must have been his father’s, although
sat
wasn’t exactly the right word. He’d slid down to the base of his spine, his long legs stretched out on the leather ottoman. He looked practically boneless in that position.

Geneva and Leo, on opposite ends of the sofa, were scanning the newspaper spread out between them. A golden retriever lay on the floor, his heavy head resting on Geneva’s foot, his graying muzzle a testament to his age.

If she didn’t say something, she’d fall asleep.
“I didn’t see Sam the last time I was here.” She nodded at the dog, and his plumy tail waved a bit at the sound of his name.

“He can get stressed if there’s company,” Trey said, not moving.

The likeness between dog and man, both stretched out in almost-comatose relaxation, made her smile. “He doesn’t look particularly stressed at the moment,” she observed.

“Like me, you mean.” Trey hadn’t moved, but he seemed to sense her smile, which was a disturbing thought.

“I didn’t say that.” She probably should stop looking at him.

“Sam was Blake’s dog.” Geneva, not seeming to notice the byplay, bent to ruffle Sam’s ears. His tail thudded against the Oriental rug. “He still misses him, don’t you, Sammy?”

The dog didn’t respond. But Trey’s muscles tightened so much that Jessica didn’t have to be looking at him to feel his tension. Wishing she hadn’t mentioned the dog, she sought for a change of subject.

“I take it you didn’t make much progress with the young people you interviewed today,” Leo said, coming to the rescue.

“Not much.” The reminder was discouraging. “It was the teenage wall of silence. No one would admit to anything more than seeing Thomas and Cherry at the party. No one saw anyone slip the drug to Thomas, or knows anything about any drugs, or will even admit to seeing them leave, either separately or together.”

“Kids watch too much television,” Leo said. “They know they don’t have to talk to you.”

“You’ll have better luck tomorrow night with the Amish kids.” Geneva was the eternal optimist. “If Bishop Amos told them to talk, they’ll talk.”

“I just hope somebody at that party was sober enough to notice something.” She stared down into the cup of coffee that Geneva assured her was decaf. “The trial date is coming on fast, and right now we have nothing.”

“Something will turn up.” Geneva closed the newspaper and tossed it aside. “Honestly, I’m going to cancel my subscription to that paper if they don’t stop printing all that garbage about Thomas.”

“It might make more of an impression if you canceled your advertising,” Leo said. “The Morgan name means something around here.”