Vanish in Plain Sight (21 page)

“Ja, for sure. But then…” William shrugged. “It
seemed best to let it be. I thought maybe Barbara had gotten an Englisch friend to take her to a bus station.”

She wanted to blame him. Wanted to blame someone. But she understood. He’d been afraid for his younger brother and had assumed Barbara had gotten safely away.

“Why do you think Ephraim went to the old Angelo house today?” Link put the question, frowning as if he tried to piece things together.

“I don’t know.”

Ezra moved slightly. “If he wanted to see Marisa, that’s where he’d go, because he knew that was where she lived then, ain’t so?”

It made a certain amount of terrible sense to Marisa. “He was trying to warn me. That’s it, isn’t it?” Her voice broke. “The man…whoever it was, must have found him there.”

“Or followed him there.” Link seemed to be on the same wavelength. “He may have feared what might happen if you and Ephraim came together.”

“That’s speculation,” Adam said. “When—”

The door opened. This time it was the doctor. His gaze searched the room until he found her face.

“How is he?” She held her breath, afraid of the answer.

“He’s not out of danger yet. He has a severe concussion, and there may be some brain swelling.” The doctor glanced at the three Amish men. “You’re family, too?”

William nodded. “Will he get better?”

“We’ll have to monitor him closely for the next twenty-four hours, but if nothing more serious develops, I think he’ll recover.”

“Can he talk?” Adam went straight to the point that mattered to him.

“He hasn’t recovered consciousness, but he is muttering a little. You can’t question him, if that’s what you mean, but you can see him. And the family can sit with him.”

Adam gave a terse nod. “Larson, come along. I want a guard on his door at all times.” He went out, trailed by the patrolman. William and Bishop Amos followed.

Ezra made as if to go after them, but then he stopped. “There is something I must say to you.” His voice rasped, as if the words hurt him. “You were right. I was in the Millers’ yard those nights.”

It took an effort to bring her thoughts back to the moment when she’d looked out the window and seen someone. Seen Ezra. Her instinct had been right.

“But why? What did you want?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I chust…” That trailed off. He seemed to struggle to start again. “I heard Barbara’s daughter was there. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to see you, but it didn’t seem right.” He held up his hands, palms empty. “I cannot explain very well. But I never meant you any harm. You are Barbara’s child.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and went out the door.

Barbara’s child, her mind repeated numbly. After all these years, he still grieved.

She blinked back tears, not sure she could take any more. “I’m going.”

Link put his hand on her arm. “Wait a minute, Marisa. Please.”

She fought against the warmth that went through her at his touch. There was no future in letting herself hope.

“I should go. Ephraim doesn’t need me, now that William is here.” She pulled her arm free.

“Tell me something first. What on earth possessed you to go there without telling anyone? Are you trying to put yourself in danger?”

Anger came to her rescue. “Who would you suggest I tell? You?”

He took a step back, emotions battling in his face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want to take responsibility for anyone. Fine. I get that. You’re not responsible for me. And if you want to become the same kind of unhappy loner your uncle was, I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

She yanked the door open and rushed through it. But there was no need to hurry. He wasn’t coming after her.

The tide of anger carried her along until she reached the ground floor of the hospital. She was following exit signs down an empty corridor when
she realized the truth—she had left her car parked in front of the house in Springville.

She’d have to call for a taxi. She turned, ready to go back to the lobby. She certainly wouldn’t ask Link for a ride, not after what she’d said.

What had possessed her? It might be true, but that didn’t mean she should have said it.

Her footsteps echoed on the tile floor, and she was so tired that the hallway seemed to stretch on indefinitely. She had to find Dad, tell him what had happened.

A sense of movement behind her…a vague shape glimpsed from the corner of her eye. And a blow sent her tumbling into blackness.

A
DAM TUGGED
L
INK OUT
of Ephraim’s hospital room, where William and Bishop Amos sat on either side of the boy’s bed while Ezra stood at the window.

Link glared at him. “Ephraim could say something that will solve this whole thing. Someone should be listening.”

“Bishop Amos will tell us if that happens,” Adam said. He frowned at the Larson kid, who looked like he was playing dress-up in his uniform. “No one goes in but family. Check with Bishop Amos. Right?”

The kid nodded. Gulped. “What about the doctors and nurses?”

Adam suppressed a sigh. “Yes, let them in. But make sure you check their ID badges.”

“Yessir. You can count on me.”

Adam didn’t look as if he found that reassuring. He glanced at Link. “I’ve got to get back to the scene. Why don’t you go home?”

“We’ve got to talk first.”

The elevator doors opened, letting out a group of Amish who were probably looking for Ephraim.
A nurse scurried after them, herding them into the waiting room.

“I don’t have time—”

“Make time.” Link all but snarled the words, impelled by a sense that time was just what they were running out of. “In here.” He propelled Adam through the door to the chapel. Thankfully it was empty.

“Two minutes,” Adam said. “I have to get back. There’s got to be some evidence pointing to the identity of the third person who was in that house. Assuming there was anyone else there.”

Link fought down an intense desire to grab him by the shirt. “If you think Marisa hit that boy, you’re crazy.”

Adam sighed. “Personally, I think that Marisa Angelo is exactly what she seems to be. But I have to do my job. And I’m not so sure about her father. We haven’t located him yet this evening. He seems to drop out of sight just when he’s wanted.”

Link shook his head, hoping that would clear away the clouds. “I know you have to suspect the husband, but I think we’re missing a piece.”

“Missing?” Adam snorted. “If anything, we’ve got too many pieces—the husband, the Amish angle—either the boyfriend or the cousin, to say nothing of this whole business of the Brotherhood.”

“That’s just it. There are so many possibilities that we’re forgetting how we came to find Barbara’s body. The raven tile.”

Adam frowned, but he gestured with one hand. “Go on. I’m listening.”

Link tried to order his thoughts. “If I hadn’t remembered finding that tile years ago near the cave, we’d never have gone looking there. That has to mean something.”

Adam lifted an eyebrow. “You realize that train of thought leads back to your uncle.”

He knew, only too well. “Nothing but the truth is going to do for us now. When you combine the tile I found near where the body was hidden with those cryptic mentions in Allen’s journal, where does it lead?”

Adam’s impassive expression sometimes fooled people into thinking he was dumb. He wasn’t. A keen mind worked away at the problem.

“Okay. Just supposing. Suppose Allen was involved in a small group that was trying to resurrect the Brotherhood. A group of people who’d advance each other’s interests in any way, including bending the law. If someone—Barbara, say—overheard or saw something, one of those people might think she had to be gotten out of the way.”

Link nodded. “Here’s what I’m thinking. This person attacked her at Allen’s house while she was waiting for it to be time to meet William. Hid her suitcase in the wall, but he’d be smart enough to know he couldn’t get away with putting the body there. And he thought of the quarry.”

“Your uncle is the most likely person to fit that scenario,” Adam said.

Link frowned, dissatisfied. “What could she know that would threaten him? He never worried about his reputation, as far as I know. He didn’t have to worry about losing a job or a family if something adverse came to light.”

“True. But other people in his little group might not have been in the same position,” Adam said. “Someone could have had a lot to lose.”

“If Ephraim saw the person who killed Barbara…” Link frowned. “The killer might not have been sure how much he’d seen. Or he might have felt safe, knowing Ephraim’s condition, believing he’d forget all about it or didn’t understand what he saw. But then Marisa came back, and her presence upset Ephraim—maybe made him remember.”

Adam nodded slowly. “I like it. It uses more of the pieces than any other scenario. But we still need evidence, so I’ve got to get back to the house. You going home, or to see Marisa?”

Edginess had him almost twitching. “I don’t think Marisa wants to see me right now.”

“She’s been through a rough experience. She cares about you. Who else would she want to see?”

Link shrugged him off. “Don’t play Cupid, Adam. The role doesn’t suit you.”

Adam pulled the door open. “Deny it all you want. I know what I see.” He went quickly down the hall, headed for the stairs.

Link followed more slowly, taking the elevator down. Adam meant well, but things between him and Marisa were more complicated than Adam would believe.

Even so, he wanted to see her. Reaching the ground floor, he headed for the parking lot. It was just that he was smart enough not to start anything between them.

Smart enough?
a small voice inside inquired.
Or scared? Scared that if you get too close, you’ll let her down?

That didn’t have any good answer.

He crossed the parking lot toward his car, zipping up his jacket against the light rain that was falling. Forget it for now. By this time, Marisa would be falling into bed back at the Miller place. Tomorrow…well, maybe tomorrow things would be clearer.

Just as he reached the car, the text signal sounded on his cell.

He jerked it from his pocket impatiently and realized it was from Marisa. No, not Marisa. Just her phone.

He stared at it, disbelieving, for a long moment. Then he flung himself into the car, mind churning with incoherent prayers, started the car and peeled out of the parking lot.

Adam would kill him for not calling, but he couldn’t take the chance. Not with Marisa’s life.

If this was a trick—he grabbed the cell phone from his pocket, steering with one hand on the rain-wet road. Punched in her number.

The phone rang. And rang. No answer.

No sooner had he clicked off than it rang. He snatched it up, heart pounding. “Marisa?”

“This is Russ Angelo. Where’s Marisa? She hasn’t come back to the B and B, and I can’t get her on her phone. I got your number from your mother.”

“I don’t…know.”
No police,
the text had said.

“What’s wrong?” Russ’s voice sharpened. “I can hear something’s wrong. What is it? Has something happened to her?”

Link hesitated. But she was Russ’s daughter. He had a right to know.

“I got a text from her phone. Someone has her. He told me to meet him at the quarry. No cops.”

Russ absorbed the blow with a sharp intake of breath. “Where are you?”

“Just coming off the highway toward Springville.

On my way to the quarry.”

“It’s a trap,” Russ said flatly.

“Yeah. I’m still going.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Link could think of a whole host of reasons why that was a bad idea. “You won’t know the way. I’m not waiting.”

“I don’t want you to wait. I know where it is. Just go.”

“Right.” Link clicked off, shoving the cell phone back in his pocket. What did he have in the car that could be used as a weapon, if it came to that? A tire iron. A flashlight. That was about it. All he could do was get there.

And pray he’d be in time.

S
OMEONE GROANED
pitifully. Marisa would help, but the pain in her head was so intense she couldn’t move to go to them. Then she realized that she was the one who had groaned.

No wonder. Her head felt as if it would fall off. As if that would be a relief.

She had to open her eyes and make some sense of this. Was she in the hospital? Her eyelids were as heavy as her head, but finally she got them open. She couldn’t see.

Panic ripped through her. Was she blind? She blinked, trying to focus. Or trapped in a place where the darkness was so intense that no light could penetrate?

She had to concentrate. To beat back the panic before it controlled her.

Please. Please. Help me.

She closed her eyes. Opened them again. Was it her imagination, or had the blackness thinned just a little?
Think, Marisa. Think.

Air moved over her, stirring her hair. She was
outside, then. The rain had stopped, but the ground beneath her was saturated. She shivered from the cold. She had to get up. No matter how her head hurt, she couldn’t just lie here, a rock cutting into her cheek.

She tried to push herself up. Couldn’t. Her hands were tied in front of her—her feet bound, too. Panic came again; the panic of being helpless, at the mercy of the person who’d brought her here.

Help me.

She listened, straining her ears. Wind rustling the leaves of a tree. The call of a night creature. Nothing that sounded man-made.

All right. She wasn’t helpless. If she could move, she might loosen the bonds on her feet. She could get out before he came back.

She swung her legs, trying to get enough leverage to get her knees under her. Move, move.

The ground disappeared from beneath her feet. For a terrifying moment she was falling…and then she got her feet back on solid ground. Panting, afraid to move, she dug her fingers into the dirt.

She knew where she was now. On the edge of the quarry where her mother had been buried. A sob choked her. She battled for control, trying to think. To remember.

The hospital. She’d been there with Ephraim… Ephraim, who’d been struck down in the kitchen of the old house. And then the man who attacked Ephraim had come after her. The empty corridor, the
sense of someone behind her, a faint, oddly familiar presence. He’d struck her. Brought her here to the quarry. The person who killed her mother attacked Ephraim, attacked her. He was cleaning up loose ends. Who next? Link?

Her heart seemed to crack. That bitter accusation would be the last thing she said to him.

No. She wouldn’t give up—lie here and wait to be killed.

Flexing her fingers, she pressed her hands against the ground. She edged her bound hands forward.
Slow, easy, don’t tip toward the side.
An inch at a time, she moved her hands. Finally she was up on her elbows.

She could see now—stars, bright against a dark sky, a sliver of moon, the dark abyss that was the quarry. Close—even closer than she’d realized.

She had to get farther away before she could attempt to work her hands and feet free. Wriggling? Rolling? Either had a risk if she overbalanced, but she had to try.

Holding her breath, she listened. Was there a change in the night sounds? If so, she couldn’t detect it.

She edged her feet and legs over, a precious couple of inches farther from the edge. Then the rest of her body, her shoulders and head.

Again. Wriggle, shift, gain ground. Confidence rising, she pressed her feet against the ground. If she could roll…

The edge crumbled, falling away beneath her feet, too fast for thought. Clutch her fingers into the ground, grasping at roots, clinging tight, seeing the steep drop to the rocks below.
Please, please.

A last rock fell, sounding a distant punctuation as it hit the quarry floor.

She pressed her face against her hands, scarcely daring to breathe. Terrifying to think of moving again, even more terrifying to lie here, helpless.

If she could find a sharp rock, maybe she could cut the bonds on her wrists. She explored them with her fingertips. Not rope. Strips of cloth. Why would…

And then she realized. He didn’t want rope marks on her wrists when she was found. Her death was meant to look like an accident.

No.
Desperate, she pressed her palms down. She’d have to risk rolling, praying—

Fierce light pierced the darkness, pinning her to the spot. Heart thudding against her ribs, she narrowed her eyes, trying vainly to see against it. He was here.

“I wouldn’t struggle.” The voice was a gruff male whisper. “You’ll fall.”

Help me.
From somewhere deep inside, courage welled. “That’s what you intend anyway, isn’t it?”

“Smart girl. Too smart.”

Not much, but things began to click together in her mind. Scent, sounds, a vague impression of size and shape.

“You may as well stop hiding behind the light. I know who you are.”

Silence for an instant. Then the beam flickered upward in a quick flash, and she saw the face she knew she’d see. The district attorney, Preston Connelly.