Marta Perry - Murder in Plain Sight

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.

JESSICA 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.