Danger in Plain Sight (32 page)

He gave her a skeptical look. “Because you know so much about investment fraud?”

“No, because she couldn’t bring herself to go to the police,” Libby snapped back. “She’d have expected that I’d consult with Trey probably, or even have gone to Leo Frost for her. And somehow Bredbenner found out and decided to silence her.”

That was Libby, jumping ahead to conclusions. She was a lot more like Geneva than either of them could see.

“An Amish man, driving a black van,” he said.

His commonsense tone didn’t seem to deter her any. She waved his comment away. “It’s not any more unlikely than an Amish person creating a scheme like this to begin with. And we know he’s done that.”

His instincts told him she was probably right on target, but the law didn’t operate on instinct. “We still don’t know exactly what Bredbenner promised his investors. It’s possible the photos on the brochure are meant to represent what the resort will look like when it’s finished. If so, and if he can show he’s making a good-faith effort to build what he’s promised, I’m not sure we’d have a case of fraud.”

“I should have tried to get more information from Isaac.” Her forehead wrinkled. “But I didn’t want to cause trouble with Rebecca for having told me. I do know Bredbenner told them the place would be open this spring. That’s not likely, is it?” She gestured toward the ramshackle buildings.

“No, not likely. At least this should get the justice department moving. I don’t suppose you have a camera, do you?”

Her smile flashed. “Of course I have a camera.” She darted back to the car, reappearing a moment later with a camera bag. “What do you want shots of?”

“Anything and everything,” he said. “Enough to show that no improvements have been made.” He nodded toward the log cabin. “I’m going to check inside.”

He watched Libby move off, her expression intent as she adjusted camera settings. Then he strode to the cabin. He was prepared to do a little housebreaking if he had to, but the door wasn’t locked. That argued he wouldn’t find anything of value, but he had to look.

The furnishings were sparse—a few broken chairs, a scarred kitchen table, a bureau against one wall. Clearly no one had lived here in a long time, if ever.

The bureau was the only place where anything could be stored. He pulled open a drawer, disclosing some faded newspapers and a few mouse droppings. Through the dirty front windows he glimpsed Libby’s red anorak, bright against the snow. He shouldn’t have brought her along, but short of locking her in a cell, he didn’t know how he’d have stopped her.

He knelt, pulling out the bottom drawer. Nothing. He’d have to—

The shot was obscenely loud, shattering the mountain stillness into a thousand echoes. He was at the door in seconds, weapon in his hand, heart beating so loudly it thundered in his ears. Libby—

He bolted outside. Saw her—facedown on the ground, red anorak like blood against the snow. His heart stopped entirely.

He ran to her, gaze searching for the shooter’s location even as every fiber of his being focused on Libby.

Another shot, wide of him, a flash of movement giving away the shooter’s location some hundred yards off in the woods. Adam squeezed off a couple of shots and dropped to the ground, grabbing Libby. Had to get her to safety, see where she was hit—

Then he realized she was struggling in his grip, fighting him, and thankfulness swept over him in a tidal wave of relief.

“You’re alive. Can you walk?” He crouched over her, shielding her with his body, alert for any movement from the woods.

“I can if you get off me,” she muttered, sounding reassuringly normal.

“When I roll free, you run for the car. Get inside and on the floor, you hear? Don’t stop.”

“But you—”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he lied. “Just go. Ready?”

He felt her body tense as she gathered herself to move. “Yes.”

“Go.” He rolled off her, weapon steadied in both hands as he pulled off a volley of shots toward a flash of movement in the trees. He spared a quick glance at Libby. Good, she’d reached the car.

Jumping to his feet he bolted after her, his back muscles tense as he prepared for a shot. None came. Maybe he’d scared the guy off. Maybe.

He dived into the car, shoving Libby to the floor. He turned the ignition. Libby popped back up, and he shoved her down again.

“Stay down,” he barked. He threw the gearshift into Reverse, backing until he reached the lane. Grabbed the door as it swung wide, slammed it and shot off down the narrow road.

The shooter had been using a rifle. Adam sent the car bucketing down the lane. He didn’t dare stop. They reached the main road and he swung out on it, narrowly missing a truck headed the other way. Around several bends—the shooter couldn’t possibly spot them here. He pulled into a farm lane and hit the brakes.

“Where are you hit?” He reached for Libby, helping her up into the seat, running his hands down her arms.

“I’m not.” She pushed his hands away and brushed snow off the front of her jacket. “I’m fine.”

“Then why were you lying in the snow?” Relief made his voice harsh.

“That first shot barely missed me. Playing possum seemed like a good idea.” Libby managed to smile, but her face was pale and the fear hadn’t entirely vanished from her eyes.

“I thought—” He stopped. He couldn’t betray his feelings.

Not now, not ever. This was how he repaid the Morgan family for all their kindness, nearly getting Libby killed not once, but twice.

“Put your seat belt on,” he said, pulling out his cell phone.

She grabbed the belt to pull it over and frowned at his phone. “What are you doing?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “We just got shot at, remember? I have to report it.”

“But it had to be Bredbenner. Who else would care if we were snooping around up there? Although—” A thought gave her pause. “How would he have known we were coming here?”

“Given that your brother blurted it out in the diner last night, almost anyone might have heard it by now.”

“So Bredbenner found out and tried to stop us. You surely don’t want to bring the Maryland police into this.”

“I don’t have a choice. I’m out of my jurisdiction. I fired my weapon. I can’t just drive away and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“But—” A hundred objections seemed to bubble in Libby’s voice.

“Listen,” he said sharply before she could get going. “This is what we’re going to say. I’m collecting information for a complaint to the justice department about a possible scam centered in my jurisdiction. You’re the complainant, and I brought you to have a look at the site. I shouldn’t have done any such thing, but if we stick to that, maybe we can brush by without getting too involved. Understand?”

Libby looked a bit mutinous, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.”

Adam returned to the phone. All he wanted to do now was get through this as quickly as possible and get Libby safely back to her family.

* * *

LIBBY COULDN’T RELAX, even once their business with the local police was finished and they were on their way back to Lancaster County.

“Are you sure Esther is well-protected? Someone reckless enough to shoot at us might be in such a panic that he’d attempt to get to her in broad daylight.”

Adam didn’t take his gaze from the road. “I’ve sent someone to stand guard around the clock from now on. No one is going to get near her.”

Adam sounded as if he were trying to control his impatience. He was completely focused on the job at hand, so focused that he seemed to forget she was there.

It probably didn’t help that she had a tendency to babble when she was upset. At least she’d managed to contain that quality during their interview with the county sheriff.

The man had probably suspected that there was more to the story than they were saying, but he’d let them leave at last, with a few caustic comments on proper police protocol. Adam’s stoic face had seldom been more in evidence.

She glanced at him. Hands tight on the wheel, lips clamped together, he looked as remote and distant as the blue ridge of mountains receding behind them. He was eager to get on with the job. That was natural enough, but she wasn’t imagining the size of the wall he’d built between them. It had been bad enough after the attack on her in the stable. Now it seemed completely impenetrable. The moments when they’d kissed might never have been.

They’d nearly reached Springville before Adam roused himself from his abstraction and looked at her. “I’ll take you home. Then I have to meet with the district attorney.”

“You may as well drop me at the Zook farm. It isn’t any farther, and my mother will still be there.”

To her surprise, he didn’t argue. Maybe he figured she’d be safer at the Zooks’, with plenty of people around, than at home alone.

She stared out the window at the passing farms, most with smoke curling from their chimneys. Somehow, she had to find the words that would break through the barrier between them. If she didn’t succeed now, with that memory of their narrow escape so fresh, she probably never would.

Adam stopped behind the patrol car in the Zook driveway, keeping the motor running, obviously impatient for her to get out. She turned to him, longing to reach him and not knowing how.

“Adam…how do I thank you? You saved my life today.”

His gaze met hers, his eyes darkening. His hand lifted toward her face, and the air seemed to thicken until she could barely take a breath.

Abruptly his hand dropped. His expression closed. “I was the one who risked your life. Remember?”

She could feel him slipping away. This wasn’t the perfect time, but if not now, when?

“Please, Adam, listen to me. I know I’m not imagining things. We have feelings for each other.”

He was shaking his head, but she rushed on, afraid to let him speak.

“Look, I’m not that fifteen-year-old girl any longer. I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want.”

“Not me.” The words were as sharp as a slap. “I owe your family everything. I can’t do this. You’re out of my reach, and even if you weren’t, I’ve nearly let you get killed twice.” His lips twisted with what she thought was pain. “That’s enough to convince me to stay away from you.”

Grief formed a hard, cold ball inside her.

“This isn’t about my family. Whatever you think they did for you—don’t you know how much they love and respect you?”

“Libby…” He turned away, shaking his head.

Over. That’s all she could think. It was over.

“The problem isn’t what anyone else thinks of you, Adam. It never has been, even back in high school. It’s what you think of yourself.” Her voice choked on the edge of tears. “If you can’t get past that, there’s nothing anyone else can do.”

She groped for the door handle, found it and stumbled out of the car.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE LINEUP of official vehicles in the driveway of an Amish home had a disconcerting appearance. Eli Bredbenner’s house proved to be a modest ranch-style house on the outskirts of Paradise. Adam hadn’t even reached the front porch yet, but already cars were slowing on the road, drivers peering at them, and a woman stared from the picture window of the house next door.

“You should make the initial approach, Chief Byler.” Quinton Foster, the new district attorney, glanced at the state investigator for confirmation. “You have a better rapport with the Amish than anyone else here.”

The
anyone else,
in addition to Foster and James Donato, the state investigator, included two state police officers. At a signal from Donato, they hung back by their vehicle. This was a balancing act between jurisdictions and departments, and fortunately everyone was treading lightly at the moment. He’d seen this sort of thing go badly in the past, as people jockeyed for position.

With a brief nod, he stepped up to the front door and knocked, his muscles tense. He wouldn’t normally expect trouble from an Amish household, but if half what they believed was true, Eli Bredbenner was not the average Amish person.