Marta Perry - Murder in Plain Sight

“I did not pay heed to the clock,” Aaron said.

“About eight, it was.” Elizabeth murmured the words and then lapsed into silence again.

Elizabeth, Jessica thought, might know more than she was saying about her brother’s activities. The problem would be getting her away from her parents in order to hear it.

“And you don’t know anything else about where he went?”

Aaron’s face tightened still more, if that were possible. “In the morning, we saw that he had not come home. It was not a church Sunday, so we thought he stayed over at a friend’s house.”

He couldn’t have called, of course.

“We knew nothing until the police came.” Thomas’s mother finally spoke, and when she raised her face, Jessica saw the anguish hidden behind the stoic facade. “When will my boy come home? Can’t you tell them that they are wrong about him?”

She’d thought she was hardened to the inevitable conviction of families that their child could not be guilty, but Molly’s pain sliced into her.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” she said gently. She leaned forward to touch the woman’s hand. “I will do the best I can for him.” For a moment they were eye-to-eye, hands clasped, differences in age and culture and education falling away to leave only the caring of two women.

Realizing the others were watching, Jessica straightened. “Is there anything that you’d like to ask me?”

The Esch family didn’t speak, but the bishop nodded. Jessica turned her attention to him.

“I have heard talk of a plea bargain,” he said.

“What is that?” Aaron asked, his tone sharp.

“A plea bargain is an offer from the district attorney to settle the case without a jury trial.” Jessica couldn’t help noticing that Trey had tensed. He’d be in favor of that, of course. Anything that would get the case, and his mother’s involvement in it, out of the public eye. “The D.A. could offer a deal to Thomas, saying he’d reduce the charge if Thomas pled guilty.”

“Thomas should do that,” Aaron said immediately.

She studied his face, wishing she could read behind the stoic expression to the person. “Do you believe he killed Cherry Wilson?”

“No.” The single negative was oddly convincing.

“Then why would you want him to confess?” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. She didn’t understand these people, and they didn’t understand the law. That didn’t make for a good mix.

“He has brought shame to the community. If he went with that woman…” Aaron stopped. “He must confess that.”

“To the church, ja,” the bishop said. “That is not what concerns the law.”

Aaron looked unconvinced.

“First off, the D.A. hasn’t offered a deal, and I don’t think he’s going to.” Why should he? He had a great case and an election coming up. “And even if he did make an offer, Thomas would have to say he killed Cherry Wilson. The best Thomas could hope for would probably be eight to twelve years in a state prison.”

Molly seemed to choke on a sob, and Elizabeth’s face was as white as the cap that covered her hair.

“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” Jessica softened her tone. “But you have to understand how serious this is.”

Bishop Amos nodded gravely. “Denke. It is best to understand.” He touched Aaron’s shoulder lightly. “We must deal with the law first, with God’s help and Jessica’s. Once Thomas has been cleared of his terrible charge, he will make things right with the church, ain’t so?”

Aaron nodded.

Jessica felt herself relax, just a little. At least they seemed ready to go along with her recommendations. Or, more likely, their bishop’s.

“You’ll want to know what happens next,” she said. “There will be at least one pretrial conference, at which the judge will meet with me and the district attorney. That’s to decide some legal questions of procedure, and Thomas doesn’t have to be there. I’ll be working on building a case for Thomas, so I’ll see him often. And you can go to the jail to see him, if you want, during visitor’s hours. Or if there’s anything you want me to take him, I’ll be glad to do that.”

“Would you? I could make some snickerdoodles. They are his favorite cookies.” The mother looked relieved at having something concrete to do.

“I’m sure he’ll like that. You can let me know…” She stopped, remembering they didn’t have a telephone.

“I’ll come by tomorrow and pick them up,” Trey said quickly.

She’d have to be satisfied for the moment, but Jessica couldn’t dismiss the feeling that Elizabeth, at least, knew more than she’d said. She glanced at the girl, who had her arm around her mother’s waist and was talking to her softly.

Not now. But at some point, she’d have to find out what Elizabeth knew. She suspected it couldn’t be anything good.

THE URGE TO LEAVE WAS so strong that it nearly overcame Trey. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what caused the feeling.

Their grief. Their gratitude to him for what they imagined was his help. All it did was make him feel guilty, because he’d been thinking of nothing but protecting his mother.

What about the other people who needed protection? People like the Esch family?

He followed Jessica to the door. He’d like to blame her for getting him into this situation, but it wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t-

He stepped onto the porch and stopped dead. The lane behind his car was blocked by a television van and a couple of other cars. Two of the Esch children were surrounded by people, and the woman who was rapidly becoming his least favorite television reporter had stuck a microphone in their faces. He didn’t stop to think-he just bolted off the porch and raced toward them.

Shoving his way into the knot of bodies, he grabbed the kids. Their two small faces flooded with relief at the sight of him.

“Come on.” He turned to find that Jessica was right behind him. “Take them inside,” he muttered. Aaron and Molly were coming toward them, holding up their hands to shield their faces from the cameras that were swung their way. “And tell Aaron and Molly to stay in, too.”

Not waiting to see if she did what he said, he swung back to the reporters, glaring at a photographer who looked as if he might take a step toward the house. The man stopped in his tracks.

“Mrs. Esch, is your son guilty?” The television reporter shouted the question, and it seemed to ring in his ears.

“Mrs. Esch doesn’t have anything to say to you,” he said firmly, glaring at the woman.

Unconcerned, she shoved the microphone in his face. “This is the second time we’ve run into you while covering this case, Mr. Morgan. Care to tell us what your interest is?”

He’d asked for it, jumping to the rescue that way, but he couldn’t possibly have done anything else.

“The Esch family are neighbors of ours. Naturally I want to help out in a time of trouble.”

“So you’re trying to get Thomas Esch off?”

“I’m trying to be a good neighbor.”

“Does your mother agree-”

“All of you are trespassing.” Jessica’s voice sliced through the woman’s question. He turned to see that she had a cell phone in her hand. “Trey, I’m not sure of jurisdiction here. Should I call the state police or the township police?”

“I’ll do it,” he said, giving her a grateful smile as he reached for the phone. “I’m sure the township police chief would be happy to cite a few people for trespass.”

Several of the reporters started to back away, but the television reporter was made of sterner stuff. “You can’t do that. The public has a right to know.”

“Not when you’re on private property,” Jessica said. “Let me give you a little free legal advice. Leave now, or face misdemeanor trespass charges.”