Danger in Plain Sight (14 page)

How merry a Christmas could it be for Esther’s family, with doubt about her recovery hanging over their heads? To say nothing of the expense of her treatment—the Amish didn’t believe in commercial insurance. The family and the church would take care of their own.

Was there any way her family could help? The Zooks wouldn’t accept charity from outsiders, but maybe her mother could think of something.

Still, whatever happened, the faith of Esther’s family was strong, and they had a belief in God’s will that wouldn’t be easily daunted. But an attacker might take advantage of that belief.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CANDLELIGHT FROM THE branched candelabra mounted at the ends of the pews cast a radiant glow on the faces around Libby. The organist launched into “Oh Come All Ye Faithful,” and the congregation rose, the movement sending the candle flames flickering.

The candlelight service in the small clapboard church in Springville didn’t seem to have changed since she’d been a small child, breathless with excitement. She remembered standing on tiptoe between her brothers to peer between the bodies ahead of her, trying to see the Baby Jesus in the manger.

A lump formed in her throat, making it more difficult to sing the familiar words, and she tried to think of anything other than the fact that it was Christmas Eve, and Dad was not here for the service.

She was squeezed between Link and Mom, with Link’s fiancée, Marisa, on his other side and their guests, Leo Frost and Adam, sitting beyond Mom. Libby had done a certain amount of shuffling as they’d filed into the pew, determined to be sure she wouldn’t be sitting next to Adam. She didn’t want to be that close to him at a time when her emotions were as near the surface as they were tonight.

The carol ended, catching her by surprise since she’d been singing the words somewhat automatically, and she sat down half a beat behind the others.

The small sanctuary was as full for Christmas Eve as it would be for Easter Sunday, maybe more. The candlelight service was a tradition in Springville, and even those who never darkened the door of a church the rest of the year seemed to show up. It was almost like a reunion, with kids and grandkids home to visit. She’d already spied half a dozen people from her graduating class.

The reading of the next lesson began, and she tried to corral her straying thoughts. None of Spring Township’s Amish were here, of course. Christmas Eve was a quieter observance in their homes, and Christmas Day was a time of worship and reverent celebration. The next day, Second Christmas, was the time for visiting and gift-giving. The holiday would be even quieter for Esther’s family, probably.

Her thoughts formed a silent prayer for Esther…for her safety, for her recovery. And for light to be shed on the darkness that surrounded her injury.

It hadn’t done all that much good, maneuvering herself away from Adam. She was still too aware of him, sitting on the other side of her mother. His strong hands, tanned even at this time of year, were within view each time she let her gaze slip that way.

The choir began to sing “The First Noel,” and she had to blink back tears. That had been her father’s favorite carol, and he’d belt it out in a mellow baritone at odd times during the holiday season.

Was her mother thinking of him, too? Impossible to tell. Geneva Morgan came from a tradition which said that a lady did not show her sorrow in public, no matter how much she might weep in private.

It was stupid, Libby told herself, to resent the changes time had brought here. After all, she was the one who’d moved away. She could hardly expect that everything would stay the same, waiting for her return.

The service moved through the familiar passages…the angels, the shepherds, the kings. Finally the congregation sang one final triumphant verse of “Joy to the World” and, clutching their candles, moved out into the cold night.

Libby was so intent shielding her candle flame from accidental contact with someone’s coat in the crowd that she’d reached the sidewalk before she realized it was snowing.

“How beautiful,” she breathed, more to herself than anyone else, as she watched the flakes swirl in the lights and coat the branches of the evergreens on either side of the church walk.

“As long as no one decides to ignore a patch of ice and plows into a tree.” Adam’s deep voice was so close that her hand holding the candle jerked, setting the flame flickering wildly. Fortunately he seemed too intent on checking his cell phone to notice.

“Don’t tell me you’re on duty Christmas Eve,” she said.

Adam shrugged. “I’m always on duty. Have you forgotten how small the township police force is?”

She watched him slide the cell phone into the pocket of his heavy jacket. Even when Adam wasn’t in uniform, he wore that air of being in charge like a second skin.

“But surely someone else could be on call tonight,” she protested.

“I gave them the night off. They’ve got family or girlfriends to spend Christmas with. Since I don’t have either—” He cut that short, as if he regretted saying it. “Anyway, it’s just a matter of taking any calls that come in.”

In all the years she’d known him, she’d never heard Adam speak, even obliquely, about his family. His father was buried in the church cemetery, just as hers was, and the falling snow rendered all the markers anonymous.

“Do you ever hear from your mother?” The question was out quickly and just as quickly regretted when the mask came down over Adam’s expression.

“No.” The word was so curt that it was almost painful, and Adam’s lips twisted. He seemed to make an effort to turn away from whatever bitterness burned toward the mother who’d been more interested in herself than in protecting her son from his drunken father.

“Sorry. I wish…” She let that trail off, because there was really nothing she could say.

“Were you thinking about your dad in there?” Adam jerked his head toward the sanctuary, his voice gentle.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes, and he clasped her cold fingers in his warm hands.

“He was a good man.” His voice was deep.

People milled around them, greeting each other, welcoming visitors, reminiscing about past Christmases. But it was as if she was alone with Adam in their own private circle.

She looked into his face, seeing the sympathy there. “I can’t help thinking what a jerk I am to resent the changes that took place while I was away. After all, it was my choice to leave.”

“I understand. Leo is good for your mother, but she never forgets your dad. Not for a minute.” Adam’s hand tightened on hers in silent comfort.

“I know. It’s just…hard.”

“Yes.” His touch was gentle, but there was strength in it, as well. That was who Adam was, all through.

* * *

THE CROWD BEGAN to thin out as the snow thickened. “I thought maybe you had been looking around in church, speculating on which of them might be guilty.”

His words jolted through her like an electric shock. “I guess I hadn’t thought that it could be someone I know.”

“Most likely would be.” Adam said the words absently, his gaze moving over those who lingered on the church walk. “How would Esther learn anything dangerous about a stranger?”

Libby gave herself a mental shake. “I can’t even guess. I’ve been gone so long—you’d think everyone here would feel like a stranger to me. But some of them haven’t changed at all.” She nodded toward the Smalley family, just exiting the church. “Sandra Smalley’s personality hasn’t changed. Just intensified, if anything.”

“Did you know their son is a township supervisor now?” Adam’s voice grew hard.

“Jason? He never struck me as very civic-minded.” Not that she’d thought much of him at all.

“He likes power.” Adam’s mouth clamped shut, and he shook his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not? The police chief is allowed to have opinions, isn’t he?”

“Not about local politicians.” His smile flickered. “Or at least, not to voice them out loud.”

The Smalley family passed them then, not stopping, thank goodness, although it seemed to her that Jason took a long look at them. He couldn’t have known they were talking about him, could he? She was watching them walk away when a voice sounded.

“Well, look who’s here. If it’s not the little princess.”

She had to compose her face before turning to face Tom Sylvester. “Hello, Tom. Merry Christmas to both of you.” She smiled at Tom’s wife, trying vainly to remember her name.

“Same to you. And you, Adam.” Tom’s ruddy face creased in a broad smile. “Libby, I hear you’re interested in that project of mine.”

Now, how exactly had he known that? She hadn’t mentioned her name to the man who’d chased her off the building site, and he hadn’t given any sign he recognized her.

“Just naturally curious, I guess.” She kept her tone light. “Link mentioned the new motel to me, so I had to stop and see for myself.”

“Great, great.” There seemed to be an edge behind the jovial smile. “I’d love to show you around, anytime. Just give me a call.”

“I’ll do that, as soon as the holiday is past,” she said promptly, feeling Adam tense next to her. But he could hardly criticize when Tom himself invited her.

Tom looked taken aback for an instant before he regained his smile. “Sure thing. I just thought maybe you were too busy, with your friend in the hospital and all.”

“I have been.” Now she was the one who had to force her smile. “But I can spare the time.”

“Fine, fine. Stop by my office or give me a call, and I’ll take you out to the job site myself.”

“Great. I’d like that.” And she’d like asking a few hard questions, as well.

“Say, I hear Esther is doing better, breathing on her own and all,” Tom said. “She’ll probably be sitting up and talking before long.”

For a moment she could only gape at him, praying her face didn’t betray her feelings. “Where did you hear that?”

Tom shrugged. “That’s what people are saying.”

“I’m afraid that’s too optimistic,” she said, with no expectation that it would do any good. Nobody ever succeeded in stopping a rumor, even with the truth, and she felt almost superstitious about trying to make Esther’s condition sound worse.

“Well, you give her our best when you see her.” Tom patted his wife’s arm. “Guess we’d better get on home.” They headed down the walk toward the street.

Libby turned to Adam, realizing that she was instinctively looking to him for reassurance. “I had no idea people were saying that.”

“Rumors go around. You can’t stop them.” He didn’t seem to grasp the importance.

“No.” She shivered, suddenly feeling the cold. “But don’t you see? If people think Esther is regaining consciousness, she could be in even more danger.”

* * *

ADAM STEPPED ONTO the hospital elevator on his way to Esther’s room. The day after Christmas meant back to work in the English world.

Not so for the Amish, though. For them, this was Second Christmas, a time for visiting friends and relatives to celebrate the season.

That meant Esther’s room would probably be crowded with people—not really the best time for the police to barge in. But he hadn’t been able to rid his mind of the fear Libby had voiced on Christmas Eve. If rumors were going around about Esther’s recovery, someone might think she could remember…the same someone who’d been behind the wheel of the van or truck that hit her.

He realized he was tensing and deliberately relaxed his muscles. It was useless to get angry over the fact that they’d found no trace of the vehicle. Logic said that indicated the driver wasn’t from the area, which swung the odds toward accident.

But that would be ignoring the man who’d entered Esther’s room, and he couldn’t forget the image Esther’s mother had planted in his mind—the masked figure bending over Esther, pillow in his hands.

He also couldn’t forget the fear in Libby’s eyes at the danger to Esther.

No use kidding himself. What he wanted at this point was to have Libby safely out of this situation. Too bad she’d lost that job on the West Coast and didn’t have to rush back. Then he wouldn’t have to run into her everywhere he turned.