Shes totally convinced that the boy-Thomas Esch-is innocent, but its based on instinct, not on facts.
Saras nose wrinkled. I wouldnt discount instinct, at least not if you thought her opinion reliable.
Im not sure. Geneva-well, she seemed a bit quirky, I guess. Warmhearted. I cant say what kind of judge of character she is on one brief phone conversation and an acquaintance of fifteen minutes or so.
But you liked her, Sara said.
Yes, I did. There was no harm in admitting that. She certainly has faith in the boy. And faith in my ability to prove him innocent. As for whether shes right-well, her son doesnt think so.
Her son? What does he have to do with it? Sara snuggled into the chair, grinning. Come on, give.
He tried to get rid of me, because he doesnt want his mother involved in something this nasty.
Overprotective, Sara said.
Overprotective, arrogant, used to being the boss, Id guess. And hes determined to dog my footsteps to make sure I dont do anything that reflects badly on the family.
Sounds like a pompous jerk. Sara dismissed Trey with a wave of her hand. If his mother retained you and the client agrees, he has nothing to do with it.
Easy for you to say. You dont have to deal with him. And besides, Sara had more assertiveness in her little finger than Jessica had in her whole body. Its curious that Mr. Henderson is so keen on pleasing the Morgan family. Id have said they were big fish in a small pond, frankly. Important enough in their little world, but hardly the type to impress Henderson.
Lets see who they are. Sara straightened, leaning toward the laptop. She looked at Jessica inquiringly. Geneva Morgan, you said?
Thats right. The sons name is Trey-well, actually Blake Winston Morgan the Third. But Im not sure its appropriate to be looking them up. It always made her feel like a stalker to do that, but Sara never hesitated to check Google even for casual acquaintances.
Saras fingers moved rapidly on the keys. Hmm.
Hmm what?
Her roommate grinned. Arent you afraid its inappropriate?
Never mind that. She crossed the room to perch on the arm of Saras chair. What did you find?
Geneva is from a Main Line Philadelphia family-the kind of people who go to the right schools, marry the right people and only appear in the newspapers when theyre born, when they marry and when they die. Thats probably the answer. Maybe she went to the same exclusive girls school as your Mr. Hendersons wife. Those people all know each other.
Jessica couldnt help but smile at the description, thinking of Geneva. She must have been the outlaw, then. She dresses like a 60s hippie. How did you get all that so quickly?
Sara shrugged, not bothering to point out that she was a pro when it came to finding information about people. I went on the assumption that Winston was Genevas maiden name. Easy enough to find her birth and marriage record. The rest of it is informed supposition, based on a lifetime of knowledge of Philadelphia society.
Come to think of it, she did mention something about Eva Henderson. What about Treys father?
Saras fingers clicked on the keys. Old county family, going right back to the original land grant from William Penn, it looks like. Nobody rich or famous, but solid citizens, all of them. Except The sassy tone in which shed been reciting her research died away.
Except what? Jessica leaned over, trying to read the screen.
Blake Morgan the Second. Your Treys father, I suppose. It seems he committed suicide about a year ago.
Suicide. Jessica repeated the word, shocked and saddened. I didnt think-well, how could I know? That would explain why Trey was so protective of his mother.
The obituary is carefully worded. A newspaper report wont be as tactful. If I can find anything else- Keys clicked again, and Sara frowned at the screen.
It took only a few more minutes to find a newspaper account of the tragedy. Sara turned the laptop so that Jessica could read it for herself.
Treys father had shot himself in an isolated hunting cabin belonging to the family a few days after receiving a diagnosis of cancer. The photo showed a rustic cottage surrounded by dense woods. His son had been the one to find his body.
Treys father had shot himself in an isolated hunting cabin belonging to the family a few days after receiving a diagnosis of cancer. The photo showed a rustic cottage surrounded by dense woods. His son had been the one to find his body.
Jessicas stomach twisted. Poor man, she murmured, not sure whether she was talking about Trey or his father. Maybe both.
Yes, Sara said, her normal ebullience muted. But you cant let it change how you deal with him. If hes interfering in your case, you still have the right to brush him off. Politely, of course.
She hadnt been able to brush him off even when shed resorted to rudeness. This made it a hundred times harder. She would have been better off not knowing. And poor Genevahow difficult that must have been for her.
What did you say the clients name is? Sara was clicking away again, undeterred.
Thomas Esch. But youre not going to find anything about him. I told you-hes Amish. I dont know much about them, but Im pretty sure they avoid publicity. The original account I read gave only his name and age.
Sara nodded, scanning quickly down through her search results. Youre right about that. Theres nothing here except accounts of his arrest. He was taken into custody right after the body was discovered. He was still at the scene, either asleep or unconscious.
Right. That was what Trey had said. Ill read through the rest of the coverage later. If it came to asking for a change of venue, shed need that ammunition. She rose, stretching. Is there anything left of that chicken soup your mother sent over?
Since Sara was a native Philadelphian, Jessica had benefited from her mothers apparent conviction that they both needed quantities of home-cooked food every week in order to survive.
You can have the rest of it, Sara said absently, her gaze still intent on the computer screen. Wait a minute. Heres something you didnt mention. Did you know that the barn where the body was found actually belongs to the Morgan family?
Jessica stopped in the middle of a yawn. Are you sure?
Thats what the paper says. They didnt tell you?
No. Neither of them did. Her mind whirled for a moment then settled. Geneva, in all her protestations of how innocent Thomas was, in all her talk of the gardening he did for her-was that only meant to establish that Thomas had access to the barn they owned?
And Trey. How could Trey have talked about the case as much as he had without mentioning the fact that he owned the barn where the murder occurred? Hed glossed over the finding of the body without so much as a hint of it.
The sympathy shed been feeling for Trey after learning of his fathers suicide vanished. Hed lied to her. Well, maybe not lied, exactly, but hed omitted an important piece of the truth. Which meant that she couldnt trust Trey Morgan any farther than she could throw him.
TREYS STOMACH CHURNED mercilessly as he pulled into the rutted track. Not because of the road. Because it led to the cabin where his father died.
Jonas Miller waited, leaning against a tree as if he had all the time in the world to spare, although Trey knew perfectly well that any Amish farmer had a long list of chores. Still, Jonas took all his responsibilities seriously, including looking after the Morgan hunting cabin and the surrounding property. It was a message from Jonas that had brought Trey here so unwillingly this morning.
He stopped the truck and climbed out, trying not to look at the cabin. Morning, Jonas. I got your message.
Jonas nodded gravely, his blue eyes serious in a weathered face above the beard that marked him as a married man. Trey. I wish I had not had to bring you out here already.
Trey shrugged, trying to ease the tension out of his shoulders. Its all right. I know you wouldnt have sent for me unless something was wrong.
The last thing that had been wrong at the cabin had been his fathers lifeless body, slumped over the table, the gun fallen from his fingers.
Jonas was silent, as if he knew and respected what Trey was thinking.
Trey took a breath and blew it out. So. You came over and found the door open.
Chust cracked a bit, it was. Jonas sounded troubled. The padlock was lying on the porch floor.
Did you look inside? The longer they stood and talked, the longer he could put off the moment at which hed have to go in.
Jonas inclined his head. I took a look, ja. Thinking it might have been teenagers, tearing places up. It did not seem anything was disturbed, so I thought it best to let it be until you could see.
He couldnt delay any longer. Lets have a look, then.
He strode toward the cabin. The hunting cabin, theyd always called it, although Dad had never had much taste for hunting. Trey and his brother had gone through a phase of wanting to bag a buck when they were in their teens, and Dad had gone along with them, more to see them safe, he supposed, than because Dad wanted to shoot anything.
Still, theyd come out here often enough, whenever Dad wanted to get away from the telephone and have a bit of quiet. Theyd fish the stream, cook out over an open fire and go to sleep watching the stars.
Good memories, plenty of them. Unfortunately they didnt seem to cancel out the one terrible one.
Jonas stood back to let him go up the steps first. Trey crossed to the door and bent to examine the padlock. It wasnt obviously damaged. He put his hand on the rough wood panel of the door, blanked out his thoughts as best he could and opened it.
At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. His gaze touched the kitchen table and skittered away. Nausea rose in his throat. He wanted to leave. The need pushed at him, pounded in his temples.
He couldnt. Jonass sense of responsibility had brought him here. Treys own sense of responsibility forced him to stay, even though he ought to be back at Leo Frosts office right now, keeping tabs on Jessicas activities.
The cabin wasnt large-a big room downstairs, divided into kitchen and living area, three tiny bedrooms upstairs, the smallest not much bigger than a closet.