I have an appointment with Mrs. Geneva Morgan. Her address-
Ach, everyone knows the Morgans. His face split in a grin, blue eyes crinkling. Anyone would help a friend of Mrs. Morgan.
His sister was nodding agreement. Evidently Mrs. Morgan was well-known in the area.
You chust go down the road past the Stoltzfus farm-
She wont know which is the Stoltzfus farm, his sister said, elbowing him. Go about a mile and youll see a big red barn on the left-hand side of the road. Turn right there-its the first paved road you come to. Follow that for about five miles, and it will take you to Dale Road. Then go left, and youll see the Morgans mailbox only a little piece down the road.
Right at the first paved road, go five miles, left on Dale Road, she repeated.
Ja, thats it. Anna beamed down at her.
Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help.
It makes no trouble. Aaron gestured her to go ahead of them, sitting back on the seat again.
Wellgoodbye. It seemed an oddly abrupt way of ending a conversation, but what did she know about Amish ways?
She pulled back onto the road, lifting her hand in a wave, and watched the buggy recede in her rearview mirror. Shed just met her first Amish people. She could only hope that the boy she was supposed to defend was as cooperative as that pair.
LAST CHANCE. THE WORDS echoed in the back of Jessicas mind as she got out of the car, squared her shoulders and headed for the door of a sprawling Pennsylvania farmhouse. The drive into the pastoral reaches of Lancaster County had taken longer than shed expected even before shed gotten lost, and shed delayed leaving the city in an attempt to obtain a few more facts.
A futile attempt, as it turned out. The file had contained little to prepare her. It contained only the baldest listing of the defendant and the name and address of the woman whod retained her. The Philadelphia paper hadnt had much more.
She raised her hand to knock, but the door jerked open before her fist reached it. The introductory speech shed so carefully prepared during the long drive vanished from her mind. The person who stood there could not be the woman whod sent for her.
Tall, male, glowering. Definitely not someone named Geneva. The khakis and open-necked shirt said casual, but the square jaw and the fierce glint in the mans golden-brown eyes said, Keep out. As if to reinforce the message, he braced one hand against the door frame, effectively stopping her from entering.
Shed faced worse in the courtroom, she reminded herself. Good afternoon. Im Jessica Langdon. I have an appointment with Geneva Morgan.
He gave a short nod. Blake Morgan. Geneva is my mother.
Still he didnt move, and his gaze was as frosty as if shed just crawled out from a crack in the stone wall that surrounded the nearby flower bed overflowing with tulips and roses.
Is Mrs. Morgan in? She kept her tone polite but put a sliver of ice in it.
Not at the moment. Level brows drew together forbiddingly. Im sorry to tell you this after youve driven out from Philadelphia, but the family has decided we dont require your services.
The words hit her like a slap in the face. Was that a polite way of saying they didnt think her competent? Mrs. Morgan wouldnt have hired her in the first place if she thought that.
There must be some misunderstanding. I spoke briefly to Mrs. Morgan just before I left the city, and I gave her my cell-phone number. Surely she would have called if she didnt want me to come.
He didnt move. Didnt speak.
Do you mind if we discuss this someplace other than the porch?
He took a step back, with an air of giving ground reluctantly. I suppose you can come in.
But not for long, his body language said.
Jessica stepped into a center hallway, cool and shady after the June sunshine outside. Yellow roses spilled from a milk-glass pitcher on a marble-topped table, and a bentwood coatrack was topped with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Morgan gestured toward an archway to the right, and she walked through it.
In the moment before she faced the man again she had a quick impression of Oriental carpets against wide-planked wooden floors and ivory curtains pulled back from many-paned windows. The furniture was a mix of periods, comfortable and well-used but holding its beauty.
She faced Morgan, tilting her chin. He must top six feet, and his height gave him an unfair advantage. That, and the fact that he was on his home turf. Still, she was the professional, called in when things went wrong.
Mrs. Morgan retained me to defend a client named Thomas Esch on a charge of murder. She asked me to come immediately, which I did. If you have decided on another attorney- She let the thought hang. He owed her an explanation, and he must know it.
Its not a question of that, he said quickly. Not at all. Weve simply decided that its wrong for us to be involved in the case. Naturally we expect to be billed for your time and trouble. Now if youll excuse me
It was an invitation to go. She didnt take it. Blake Morgan had that air of command down to an art. He was the type you had to stand up to at the start or always be steamrolled, not that she expected to have enough of a relationship with him to care.
When she didnt move, a glint of anger showed in his face. Ill have to ask you to leave now, Ms. Langdon.
Fight back? Or roll quietly away and say goodbye to what was left of her career? Not much of a choice.
I was retained by Geneva Morgan. If she no longer requires my services, Ill have to hear it from her.
His jaw hardened until it resembled one of the rocks in the stone fireplace that dominated one wall of the living room. Thomas Esch is accused of a brutal murder. I dont want my mother involved, even in the background, in such a thing.
Are you saying you speak for her?
Yes. He bit off the word.
Do you have a power of attorney to do so?
His teeth seemed to grind together, and he leaned toward her. Shed scored, but she wasnt sure she wanted to hear what hed say next.
Quick, light footsteps crossed the hall behind them. Trey, my dear, there you are. You must have gotten the message wrong, dear, and thats so unlike you.
Jessica watched, fascinated, as the woman trotted across to Blake and patted his cheek. She had to reach up, very far up. If this was his mother, he clearly didnt take after her.
You must write things down, the woman scolded gently, as if he were about six.
She spun, swooping toward Jessica and holding out both hands. Bright green eyes sparkled, and the full sleeves of the filmy tunic she wore fluttered. Silvery curls bouncing, she moved with the quick light step of a girl, although she had to be in her sixties.
Youre Jessica Langdon, of course. The woman caught Jessicas hands in a warm, surprisingly strong grasp. My dear, I cant tell you how delighted I am to see you. Youre the person Ive been praying for. Tears glistened suddenly in the green eyes. You are just the person to defend Thomas in this terrible matter.
That answered the question of whether Blake Morgan had really spoken for his mother. Jessica glanced at him over Mrs. Morgans shoulder. He had made one effort to get rid of the attorney his mother had hired, and Jessica suspected it wouldnt be the last. At the moment, his glare seared.
She stared back, unmoved. She had more to lose in this situation than he did, and she was in this to stay.
CHAPTER TWO
TREY WAS FLOODED BY his usual mixture of frustration, affection and bemusement at his mothers return. Hed been confident hed deflected her attention long enough so he could send this Philadelphia lawyer packing. If hed been able to get the womans name and cell number, hed have headed her off before shed ever reached here.
But Geneva Morgan, despite acting as if she had the attention span of a butterfly, inevitably disconcerted him by fixing on the one thing he wanted her to ignore. Shed been doing that since his first attempt to deceive her, having to do with a homemade slingshot and a broken window when he was six, and he shouldnt have been surprised that shed done it again today.
But todays problem was considerably more serious than a broken window, and he didnt want his mother to get hurt trying to defend someone the whole county thought was guilty of an ugly crime.
The Langdon woman stared at him, suspicion darkening blue eyes that had so much green in them they were almost turquoise. I thought your name was Blake.
His mothers irrepressible laugh gurgled. Blake Winston Morgan the Third, to be exact. Isnt that a pompous name to hang on a helpless little baby?
Mom Business, Mom. This is business, remember?
So I took one look at the pink cheeks and that fuzz of blond hair, and I decided to call him Trey. For three, you know.
Im sure Ms. Langdon figured that out, he said drily.
Its not my concern. To his surprise, Jessica Langdon looked faintly embarrassed. I just She paused, evading his gaze. Perhaps we could clarify whether Mrs. Morgan wants me to continue with the case or not.
Of course I do. His mother shot him a reproachful look. Trey, weve been through this already. That poor boy couldnt possibly have done what they say, and if no one else will stand up for him, I will. I spoke with his mother, and she agreed to let me handle getting a lawyer.
If Im going to represent the young man, it would be helpful to know a bit more about the circumstances. Ms. Langdon looked at his mother, probably figuring she wasnt going to get anything out of him.
Yes, of course. Do come and sit down. I dont know why were standing here. His mother led her to a seat on the Queen Anne chair and then perched on the arm of the sofa opposite, head tipped to one side, as if waiting for questions.
The Langdon woman opened her briefcase, took out a yellow legal pad and prepared to take notes. Trey couldnt help it-his lips twitched at the image of the two of them, despite the seriousness of the situation. Mom, still seemingly caught in the 60s of her youth, wore her usual filmy Indian-inspired tunic over a pair of jeans that were frayed at the knees. Her face was bare of makeup, and a favorite pair of turquoise-and-silver earrings dangled from her ears.
His gaze lingered on Jessica Langdon. The carefully tailored, lightweight gray suit, cream silk shirt and ridiculously high heels might be suitable for the womans usual round of clients, but not for an excursion deep into the country, where a pair of khakis and a button-down shirt were practically considered formal wear. She had auburn hair, worn in a shining, chin-length style, a heart-shaped face, skin so fair she probably didnt dare go out in the sun and deep blue eyes. Not quite beautiful, but striking enough that any man would notice-any man who liked the cool, sophisticated type, anyway.