Murder in Plain Sight (16 page)

Trey nudged him. “Quit trying to build up suspense. Just tell us.”

Leo gave him a mock affronted look. “I am telling you.” His face warmed with a smile. “I can’t help getting excited. How often do my antiquarian and legal interests coincide? Anyway, back in the 1700s, this—” he tapped the image on the page “—was the sign of a secret society so powerful it controlled virtually the whole area.”

“Secret society?” Was he making a joke? “That sounds like something out of a comic book, Leo. You’re not serious.”

“It was serious business all right.” Leo pushed his glasses up with the tip of his finger, and his voice had taken on a lecturing tone. “Secret societies were rampant in Europe and the colonies in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It made a certain amount of sense in an era when rulers could control the lives of their subjects. Banded together, committed to the group by its secret signs
and rituals, people had more power than anyone could individually.”

“You’re serious.” She found it hard to believe. “This group really had significance?”

“Very much so. Supposedly they became so large and so powerful that they controlled most of the business and political life of the area. Undercover, of course. It was one of those things everyone knew and no one talked about.”

Trey stirred. “So what happened to them?”

“A number of the secret societies became perfectly respectable and well-known, like the Masons and other fraternal orders. Others, including the Brotherhood of the Raven, faded from view.” Leo frowned. “It’s odd, actually, that the brotherhood disappeared. I suppose, in all the turmoil of the American Revolution, things like that came to seem unimportant.”

“Sheds a new light on the things our forefathers got up to, doesn’t it?” Trey obviously took it lightly. “So what does that tell us? That the person who wrote that threatening note to Jessica was a history buff?”

“Or that he saw the symbol someplace and decided to copy it,” she said, trying to chase away the unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“He thought it would add a creepy tone to his threats.”

“Could be. Must be,” Trey said, but she could see that he was troubled. “It can’t be anything else. Still, I don’t like the premeditation and the violence implied in wringing the neck of that bird and throwing it at your window.”

Leo glanced at her face and then, warningly, at Trey.

“I’m not going to go into hysterics at the idea that this joker is prone to violence,” she said, irritated. “So you two can stop trying to protect me from facing facts. Anyway, it may have nothing to do with proving Thomas’s innocence.”

“Maybe not, but Cherry had that piece of jewelry, and the raven reappeared as a motif in the threats against you. That can’t be coincidence,” Leo said.

“It may just mean that Cherry’s secret lover doesn’t want the person he sees as her killer to get off,” Trey said briskly. “Anything else we should know about this raven thing, Leo?”

“The Brotherhood of the Raven crumbled to dust a long time ago. Still, it’s odd that it should recur in such a context. Among other things, the brotherhood supposedly controlled the legal system. Just
a glimpse of the symbol would be enough to keep witnesses from testifying and sway juries to deliver the verdict the brotherhood wanted. So using it to scare away an attorney would fit right in.”

Trey plucked the book from Leo’s hand and closed it with a slap. “Like I said. Interesting, but as Jessica said, it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with defending Thomas.”

Jessica’s grip tightened on the back of the chair as Trey’s words set up an echoing response in her mind. There was something—some reason why the sign affected her as it did, some connection she hadn’t yet made.

She turned, images clicking together in her mind like tiles. She picked up her briefcase, found the file she wanted and dumped its contents onto Leo’s desk.

“Jessica?” There was a question in Trey’s voice. He and Leo were looking at her with identical expressions of concern. “What is it?”

She shuffled through the crime-scene photos. There it was, the picture showing the area around the body. She pointed to an object in the picture—an object she hadn’t consciously remembered until now. It was a necklace, a thin gold chain that had apparently been ripped from Cherry’s neck in her
final struggle. It lay next to her body on the rough wooden floor of the barn.

She pointed. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

But now that she studied it, she knew. The chain hadn’t just been tossed aside. It had been arranged—its fine gold links formed into an exact replica of the symbol of the raven.

H
IS MIND STILL
preoccupied with the image of the crime-scene photo, Trey barely noticed when his cell phone rang. He answered automatically, but the sound of Bishop Amos’s voice startled him to attention. His frown deepened as he heard what the bishop had to say, and when he hung up, he realized that Jessica and Leo were both staring at him.

“Bishop Amos, calling from an English neighbor’s house. He wants us to meet him at the Stoltzfus farm as soon as possible.”

“The Stoltzfus farm,” Jessica echoed. “Why?”

“It seems there’s something Jacob has to tell us.”

She lifted the photo in a protesting gesture. “Can’t it wait? We really need to discuss this.”

“If Bishop Amos calls, it has to be serious. Maybe Jacob has remembered something important. Or decided to tell us something he’s been hiding. I think we should go now.” He nodded
toward the photo, its image of the dead woman’s necklace repellent. “We can talk that over later.”

“That’s right.” Leo weighed in on his side. “I agree that the symbol is significant, but I can do a little more digging while you’re out.”

Jessica looked as if she thought they were ganging up on her, but then she shrugged and reached for her bag. “All right. Let’s go.”

It took them twenty minutes to get clear of town and reach the Stoltzfus farm—twenty minutes during which he tried to keep Jessica talking and tried to keep himself from thinking about that crime-scene photo. Each time the thought intruded, he pushed it away.

Concentrate on the problems of the moment. That was enough to deal with.

“That’s Bishop Amos’s buggy,” he said, pulling the car to a stop in the driveway. “Let’s hope Jacob has something helpful to say.”

“We could use a bit of concrete evidence.” Jessica walked around the car to join him. “The recurrence of the raven symbol may seem significant to us, but I’m not sure I could explain it in a convincing manner to a jury.”

“Right.”

They crossed the lawn. Bishop Amos waited for
them at the door, looking unusually serious. “Trey. Jessica.” He inclined his head gravely. “It is kind of you to komm.”

He ushered them into the living room. Jacob sat between his parents, his hands dangling between his knees. None of them looked very happy at whatever was going on.

“Now.” Bishop Amos’s voice must have sounded like the crack of doom to Jacob. He jumped, the whites of his eyes showing. “Jacob, you muscht say the truth to Trey and Ms. Langdon.”

Jacob’s father intervened, speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, apparently in the hope that they wouldn’t understand. Jacob would confess to the church. Was it necessary that he also confess to these Englischers?

“Jacob has done wrong.” There was no give to the bishop’s tone. “He must make amends to the ones he has wronged.”

His father looked as if he would say more, but Jacob jerked to his feet like a puppet yanked by its strings.

“I never meant anyone to be hurt. I didn’t. I didn’t.”

Trey’s breath caught. Was the boy going to confess to the murder?

“What did you do?” Jessica put the question as calmly as if she were in a courtroom. “Who didn’t you want to hurt?”

Jacob stared at her, eyes wide. “You,” he said. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Jessica paled, and he took an instinctive step closer to her. “You?” Her voice held disbelief. “You slashed my tires and followed me to my motel? You left those notes for me?”

“No, no, no.” Jacob shook his head and went on shaking it as if he couldn’t stop. “I did none of those things. I only…I…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving. “I knocked over the hay bales.”

His mother made a small, pained sound. He shot her a look of apology. Of pleading.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any harm to anybody. I chust—” He stopped, clamping his mouth shut.

“Didn’t mean any harm?” Trey’s fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. “You could have killed her.”

“No!” It was an anguished cry.

“No.” Surprisingly, Jessica echoed him. “If I hadn’t started to get up just then, I wouldn’t have fallen at all.”

Tears spilled over onto the boy’s cheeks. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t see you for the hay bales. I didn’t know you were getting up. I was chust trying to get close to talk to you, but when I leaned against the bales, they fell, and then you screamed, and everyone was shouting.” He clutched his head with his hands. “I couldn’t think…I didn’t know what to do. I ran. I am so ashamed. Please forgive me.”

Jessica was moved by his words. Trey could see that. But he wasn’t so easily satisfied, not where her safety was concerned.

“You could have talked to us outside, Jacob. Why did you sneak up into the loft when Ms. Langdon was alone if you didn’t mean to hurt her?”

“I…I…” Jacob sent a glance toward the bishop, but Bishop Amos stood, arms folded, watching. “It was because of Peggy.” Jacob hung his head, his cheeks reddening.

“Peggy Byler? What about her?”

“I think I know,” Jessica said. “You like Peggy, don’t you, Jacob?”

The flush reached his ears. “Ja.”

“But your friend Thomas liked her, too. Did you think maybe Peggy liked him better?”

“It…it wasn’t that.” Jacob stumbled over the words, and maybe no one in the room believed
him. “I heard what you said to her. She would go into an Englisch court. It’s not proper. Not fitting for her to do that.”

“It is if it helps save Thomas’s life.” Jessica stepped toward him and grasped his arm. “Look at me, Jacob. You climbed up into the back of the loft so no one would see you. You wanted to convince me not to bring Peggy into court. Is that the truth?”

“Ja.” He rubbed at his tears with his hands, like a little kid. “That’s it. That’s all I did. I am ashamed.”

“You will confess in church that you caused Ms. Langdon’s accident,” Bishop Amos said. “You will accept the punishment the brothers and sisters agree upon.”

“Ja,” he whispered.

“Gut.” Bishop Amos turned from his erring parishioner to Jessica. “Are you satisfied with what the boy has said?”

“Yes. Thank you, Bishop Amos. It is helpful to have this much cleared up.”

He nodded gravely. “You have gone through troubles to help one of us. We will not forget it.”

Trey walked back to the car beside Jessica, frowning a little. He stopped her before she could
open the door, his hand on her arm. “Did you really believe all Jacob wanted to do was talk to you?”

She considered for a moment. “Talk to me. Scare me, maybe. Judging by the father’s expression, he’s one of those who resent my involvement in Thomas’s case, don’t you think?”

“Probably.” That fit with what the man had said about Jacob confessing to Englischers. “What does that have to do with it?”

“Just that Jacob might have picked up on that disapproval from his father and thought it wouldn’t be all that bad if I had a bit of a scare. Maybe even enough to make me think twice about the case, although I suspect Jacob is more concerned about his love life than anything else.”

“Possible, but—”

“Look, whatever he intended, he seems genuinely sorry. Nasty notes I can handle, as long as physical violence is off the table.” She pulled the door open. “Let’s get back to the office and see if Leo has found anything.”

Jessica could be right. He hoped so. But he found he couldn’t quite believe it.

B
Y EVENING, THEY HAD
discussed the discovery of the raven symbol at the scene of the murder so
much that Jessica’s head was spinning. Geneva, predictably, was over-the-top excited. She was convinced that this was the key to securing Thomas’s release. In fact, she didn’t understand why they didn’t immediately rush to the police, show them the images and demand they let Thomas go.

Jessica had turned to Trey to enlist his support in explaining the situation to his mother, to find him oddly withdrawn. It was almost as if he hadn’t been paying attention to the discussion. Bobby and Leo had pitched in, helping her to convince Geneva that they still had a long way to go.

Finally Leo and Bobby had left, ducking under umbrellas to escape the rain that still pelted down. Leo promised to continue to search for any hint that the symbol of the raven had appeared in recent years, and Bobby insisted he’d track down where Cherry had obtained the raven pendant. Trey, muttering something about calls to make, disappeared into his home office.

Geneva looked after him, a perplexed frown on her face. “What’s wrong with Trey?” She turned to Jessica as if she should have the answer.

“I don’t know that anything’s wrong. He’s just busy with something else, I suppose. He’s taken a lot of time from the business to help me.” Trey’s
reaction disturbed her, too, but she wasn’t about to discuss it with his mother.

Geneva’s gaze held a certain amount of doubt, but she didn’t argue the point. Instead, she began gathering up coffee cups. “It seems to me…well, we’ve already been through that.”

Jessica rose. “I’m going to head back to the motel now. There are some things I should pick up.” Geneva had talked her into staying at the house another night, but the pretrial hearing with the judge was tomorrow, and she’d need her power suit for that, which was still at the motel room.

Geneva put the cups down with a clatter. “But it’s already dark out, and raining besides. I’m sure Trey wouldn’t want you to go alone. Let me get him.”

“No, don’t.” She caught Geneva’s hand to stop her instinctive movement. “Honestly, Geneva, I can certainly drive a few miles alone. Now that we know Jacob was responsible for the accident, I’m not worried.” She was about to add that she’d spend the night at the motel, but Geneva looked distressed enough already. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” She squeezed the hand she held. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

She had to repeat the words several times before
Geneva was convinced, and even then she stood looking after Jessica with a worried expression.

She hurried to the car, eager to get away before Geneva brought Trey’s wrath down upon her. She could stand to have a few minutes, at least, free of Trey’s presence. When she was with him, her mind had a deplorable tendency to flicker off to his thoughts, his feelings, the slightest change in his eyes. The fact that they warmed every time they rested on her did wonders for her emotions, but nothing at all for her powers of legal reasoning.

The dark shadows of the pines swallowed up her headlight beams as she pulled onto the road. She and Leo were agreed that they needed considerably more than they had in the way of a link between the note left for her and Cherry’s death, but at least now there was reason to hope. The thought filled her with energy. She had ammunition, and she was determined to dot every
i
and cross every
t.
No one would be able to claim that she’d been negligent in preparing this case.

Her stomach clenched, as always, when she thought of that accusation. She hadn’t been negligent, and Henderson Junior knew it. He was the one who’d failed to follow through on the papers she’d put in his hand, documents that would have
saved the firm’s client a tidy sum in damages from a disgruntled former employee. But Henderson had looked on blandly while she took the brunt of the blame, secure in his position as the son of the firm’s founder.

Trey would never let anyone else take the blame for his mistake. Instead, he’d very likely jump into the breach, accepting responsibility even for something that wasn’t his fault. A decent, honorable man…one a woman could count on. She hadn’t thought to find someone like him, had certainly never expected to trust her heart to anyone. But Trey—

Lights flashed in her rearview mirror, nearly blinding her. She blinked, moving her head a bit, trying to escape the glare. Where had that idiot come from? And why didn’t he have sense enough to switch to low beams? Didn’t he realize she couldn’t see with that high-powered light in her eyes?

She slowed instinctively, trying to concentrate on the road ahead. There was nothing at all in sight. Plenty of room to pass. He could—

The vehicle behind her hit her bumper hard enough to snap her head back. Her stomach clenched, adrenaline racing along her nerves. She
couldn’t think, could only react. He slammed into her again, metal shrieking. Her car swerved toward the edge of the road and the darkness beyond.

She fought the wheel for control, heart pumping, pain shooting though her injured wrist. This wasn’t an accident; this was deliberate. He wanted to make her crash. She had to get away.

The instant her wheels straightened she stepped on the gas. Stupid, stupid. She’d been distracted, her thoughts wrapped up in Trey, not paying attention to the road. She didn’t know how far she was from the edge of town and safety. If she could just get far enough ahead of him—

She rocketed down the narrow road, seeing nothing but the reflection of pavement in front of her and the intense glare of the headlights behind her. Nothing at the side of the road, nothing but darkness. She vaguely remembered pastures and cornfields on either side, a ditch running along the road. No lit farmhouses, no place to seek help.

The pursuer smashed her bumper again, jolting her down to her toes. Her car spun, out of control on the rain-slicked road. Headlights glanced crazily off a road sign, a kaleidoscope of images, and then she was off the road entirely, wheels bumping for
a moment before she went nose-down into a ditch, the air bag exploding in her face.

Brakes screeched behind her. She fought to shake herself free of the blackness that threatened to overcome her. She had to keep her eyes open, had to move, get out of the car, call for help… She reached, fumbling, trying to find her handbag and her cell phone in the smothering folds of the air bag.

Something bumped against the side of the car, sending a fresh spurt of terror through her. Someone was coming, climbing down into the ditch on the driver’s side.

But not to help. She knew that instinctively. He’d forced her car off the road. Now he was coming to finish the job.

A clang against the side of the car—metal on metal. A tire iron? Panic surged through her, clearing her head. She had to get out, get away, but she couldn’t even find the release for the seat belt through the muffling folds of the air bag.