Marta Perry - Murder in Plain Sight

Stupid, she scolded herself. You’re just not used to the country, that’s all. Get you away from streetlights and traffic signals, and you panic.

The stern lecture settled her nerves, but she was still glad when she rounded the flank of the hillside and the lights of Springville came into view. Once she got a bit closer, there’d be enough light to see the car behind her.

But that wasn’t to be. The car turned off at the next intersection. All she could say for sure was that it was a car, not a truck, and it was dark in color.

The car didn’t mean anything, any more than that ridiculous attraction she’d felt for Trey meant anything.

She drove down Springville’s main street, turned in at the sign for the Willow Brook Motel and drove around to the back toward her unit. The motel must be full tonight. Most of the spaces were taken, and a laundry truck took up the one in front of her unit.

Annoyed, she went around the first rank of cars in the lot, finally finding a space two rows back. She slid out, locked the car and headed for the motel.

Her briefcase-she’d left it in the trunk. Annoyed with herself, she stopped-and heard an echo of her step, as if someone else were in the lot, someone who stopped when she did.

Nonsense, she told herself briskly. An image of the knife stuck in her tire slid unpleasantly into her mind, like a snake slithering out from beneath a rock.

She would not let that vandalism turn her into a basket case. She walked quickly back to the car, took the briefcase from the trunk and slammed the lid defiantly.

Several large motor homes were parked in the middle row of the lot. Why would someone want to stay at the Willow Brook Motel when his or her home on wheels had all the modern conveniences? Maybe RV drivers got the urge to spread out once in a while. She walked between two of them, their high sides forming a tunnel, and heard it again.

It wasn’t an echo. Footsteps. Distinct footsteps, keeping level with her on the far side of the motor home. A chill slithered down her back. Maybe it was nothing, but it paid to take precautions, especially after the incident with her tires. If someone would slash her tires, what might he do to her?

She reached into the pocket of her bag where her cell phone lived. Her fingers groped fruitlessly, and her stomach cramped. The phone wasn’t there. It was on the seat in the car, where she’d dropped it.

Going back for it wasn’t an option, not when she was aware of the person on the far side of the motor home. His footsteps had stopped when hers did, and she could almost imagine that she heard him breathing.

She pulled the key card from her bag, making sure she had it turned in the right direction. Then, before she could scare herself into immobility, she started walking again. When she stepped into the open, the other person would, too. She’d see that it was someone perfectly innocent, some late traveler headed for his or her room.

But when she stepped into the lane, the other person didn’t. He stayed where he was, invisible in the shadow of the vehicle.

Then the shadow moved, and panic swept over her. She spun and ran for her room, unable to hear anyone for the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, too breathless to cry out. She reached the door, shoved the key card in and stumbled inside.

She slammed the door and shoved the bolt home. She could breathe. Had she just made a complete idiot of herself? Probably.

Not turning the lights on, she sidled to the window and moved the drape just enough to peer out. If she’d imagined this…but she hadn’t. Beside the motor home she saw a shadow shift, detach itself and then move backward, disappearing into the darker shadows beyond.

SHE HADN’T CALLED the police, and Jessica was still wondering whether that decision had been the right one the next morning. They’d have come, but even after the incident with her tires, how seriously would they have taken her account?

Someone followed you in the parking lot, Ms. Langdon? Can you describe that person? Oh, all you saw was a shadow.

She could imagine the looks they’d exchange over that. No, she’d done the right thing. Maybe it had been nothing more than someone else going to his or her room.

She’d called Sara instead, and Sara’s common sense had reassured her. Jessica frowned. She’d intended to ask Sara to do a little research for her on past cases involving the Amish, but she’d forgotten after that episode in the parking lot. She’d have to try to catch up with her later.

Trey’s truck pulled up, and she hurried out to meet him, double-checking to be sure the door locked behind her. She’d said she could drive herself to this meeting with Thomas’s parents, but Trey and his mother between them had battered down all her arguments. Besides, she didn’t doubt that the Esch family would talk more freely with him there.

“Good morning.” She slid in quickly, circumventing his move to get out and open the door for her. “You’re right on time.”

“My father taught me to be punctual.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And my mother taught me to open a door for a lady.”

“I’m perfectly capable of opening a truck door,” she said.

She couldn’t keep from glancing toward the spot where she’d realized someone was there, keeping step with her in the darkness. But it wasn’t dark now, and the motor homes had vanished, their drivers off on their travels, presumably.

She turned back around in her seat, feeling Trey’s gaze on her. She didn’t intend to tell him, any more than she’d told the police, but for a completely different set of reasons.

Trey might believe her. And if he did…well, he’d jump in and try to take control, of course. She’d learned that much about him already. After that treacherous moment of weakness she’d felt with him last night, she had to keep her guard up.

“Is something wrong?” Trey frowned as he pulled out onto the street from the parking lot. “You look as if you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

She hadn’t. “I’m fine.”

She would not appear weak in front of him. She’d started learning self-reliance the day she’d gone, a weeping eight-year-old, to boarding school. She wasn’t going to regress now.

“You sure?” She could almost feel his gaze probing.

“Positive.” She managed a smile. “Is it far to the Esch place?”

“Just a couple of miles down the road from our house.” He didn’t sound convinced, but at least he’d accepted her answer.

“Any words of wisdom about dealing with these people?”

He shot her a cold look. “First off, don’t say ‘these people’ in that condescending way.”

“I didn’t mean-I don’t look down on them. I just don’t understand them.”

“Amish aren’t all the same.” He sounded exasperated with her. Or annoyed. “They may dress alike and look alike, but they’re individuals. Aaron, Thomas’s father, has always been pretty strict with him, maybe because Thomas is the oldest child. Molly, his mother, well, I’d say she dotes on him a bit, maybe for the same reason.”

She was tempted to ask if the same was true between him and his parents, but she didn’t quite dare.

“There are seven younger children.”

“Seven?” she murmured.

He grinned. “The Amish tend to have big families. I’m not sure how many of them you’ll meet today. Aaron and Molly are trying to protect the younger ones from this. Oh, and Amos Long will be there. He’s the bishop of the local congregation.”

That news landed on her with a thud. “After our experience with the minister, I don’t think I want a bishop mixed up in this case. It’s complicated enough as it is.”

“Trust me, you do want Bishop Amos involved. Without his urging, I doubt Aaron would even have agreed to talk with you. Aaron’s pretty hidebound, and the Amish don’t get involved with the law.”