Vanish in Plain Sight

The woman nodded, eyes filled with sympathy. “Of course you want to know more.”

“Rhoda.” There was warning in Eli’s voice. “This is not our concern.”

His wife answered him in the dialect, her voice filled with urgency. He seemed to argue with her. Finally he shook his head, mouth set.

Rhoda looked back at her. “Eli feels we should not interfere. That you should talk to your mother’s kin. It is for them to tell Barbara’s story, not us.”

She saw her chance of learning anything fading away, if they were anything like the people she’d encountered in Indiana. “But I don’t even know how to find them. Or if they’ll talk to me.”

Another quick exchange of glances. Eli pushed his chair back.

“You should talk to Bishop Amos. He can help you, if he thinks it the right thing to do. Rhoda will tell you how to find him.” He rose, dropped his napkin on the table and walked out.

She glanced at Rhoda. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“Ach, he is not upset. He chust isn’t sure what is right, and that makes him annoyed with himself.”

“Isn’t it right for me to know about my mother?”

Rhoda looked down at her plate. “You’ll talk to the bishop. He’ll know what’s best. I’ll write down for you how to find him.”

Door closed, it seemed. She didn’t pin much hope on this bishop, whoever he was, wanting to help someone like her.

She tried to marshal an argument that might sway the woman. “You understand what I feel. I know you do. If you know something about my mother, please tell me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Because her husband had told her not to, Marisa supposed. She wanted to argue, but obviously that wouldn’t do any good. Maybe, if she approached Rhoda when they were alone, she’d have better luck.

Her cell phone rang, and she dived into her bag to find it. Maybe her father—

But it wasn’t Dad. It was the police chief, Adam Byler.

“Wonder if you might stop by my office some time this morning, Ms. Angelo? No hurry.”

“Why? Have you found out something?” It was all she could do to stay in her seat, and she realized that Rhoda and her daughter were both looking at her with slightly scandalized expressions. Surely they were used to guests with ever-present cell phones, weren’t they?

“No, not really.” Byler sounded evasive. “There’s just something I’d like to talk over with you, that’s all. Come by anytime.”

He rang off before she could ask him anything else, and she stared at the phone for a moment, her mind teeming with questions.

Despite his denial, she couldn’t stop a feeling of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, she was about to learn something.

CHAPTER FOUR

LINK PARKED IN FRONT of Straus’s Hardware in Springville, got out and hesitated, glancing down the street in the direction of the tiny office that housed Spring Township’s police station. The village and the surrounding countryside that made up the township were served by the same small police force.

Forget it, he ordered himself. Pick up the hinges you need, go back to the house, get on with the work.

But forgetting wasn’t as easy as all that. Lying in the military hospital, day after day, he’d had no choice but to accept the fact that he’d survived when the others had died. He’d made his plans. He just hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be to carry them out.

First his family, so sure they could turn him back into the person he’d been before. Then there was the old house that had sheltered generations of Morgans, and even Springville itself, little changed since he’d trotted down Main Street at eight or nine with a dollar in his pocket, intent on spending it as soon as possible. All demanded he be the person he was before he left.

He could resist them. He wasn’t so sure he could go on resisting the appeal of that little girl’s pictured face. Or that same little girl hiding in grown-up Marisa Angelo’s eyes.

He wheeled, striding down the street toward the police station. He needed to understand what was going on. Adam would level with him.

He swung open the door, and a woman seated at the counter swung around to look at him, eyes widening.

“Well, if this isn’t a blast from the past. Link Morgan. I heard you were back in town. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks, Ginger. I didn’t know you were working here.” Ginger Morrison had been class comedian, cheerleader and the girl most likely to cut class if anything more interesting beckoned.

“Yeah, my youngest went off to school this year, so we figured I’d better start bringing home a paycheck.”

“You? A kid?” He perched on the corner of her desk. Ginger didn’t look much older than she had the day they’d ditched school together and headed for a rock concert in Baltimore on his motorcycle, which had conked out thirty miles short of their destination. “You have a kid?”

“Three.” She grinned. “I’ve been busy. You know I always—”

But he wasn’t destined to hear the rest, as the door opened behind him and Ginger assumed a professional expression.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

He swung round, instinct telling him who it was even before he saw her face. “Marisa. Ginger, this is Marisa Angelo. I imagine she’s here to see Adam.”

“Good morning.” Dismay at the sight of him was quickly masked, and Marisa focused on Ginger in stead. “Chief Byler asked me to drop by.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Angelo. He’s on the phone right now, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes.” Ginger raised her eyebrows at him. “You here to see Adam, too, I suppose. It’d be too much to think you stopped by to chat about old times with me.”

He managed a grin, glancing at Marisa. “Ginger and I used to cut class together, back in the day.”

“Not just me,” Ginger said. “The wonder is that this boy ever managed to graduate, let alone get into college.” She winked at Marisa. “Any girl he could talk onto the back of that junker of a motorcycle would do. I figured he’d go off the road at Horse shoe Bend one night, and that’d be the end of him.” A buzzer went off on her phone. “You folks can see the chief now.”

Link fell into step with Marisa. “You look as if you didn’t sleep well.” Purple shadows were like bruises under her eyes.

“I’m fine.” The words were snapped off so quickly they denied their meaning. She gave a quick nod back toward the desk. “Nice for you to see old friends.”

He grimaced. “Especially when they go on saying the same thing they did ten or twelve years ago.” He opened the door to Adam’s office and let her precede him.

Adam rose when Marisa entered, then looked over her shoulder at Link with an expression that suggested he’d be better off elsewhere. Link gave him a bland smile. Adam should know better than to think he’d be discouraged by a look.

“Ms. Angelo, thanks for stopping by.” Adam pulled out his only visitor’s chair for her. “Link, I wasn’t expecting you, as well.”

“Why not?” He perched on the corner of Adam’s desk. If Adam thought he’d come with Marisa, so much the better. “I’m an interested party.”

Adam didn’t respond. Marisa leaned forward in her chair, hands gripping the strap of her shoulder bag. “What’s happened, Chief Byler? Have you found something?”

“No, nothing like that.” Adam wore that stolid mask he did so well…the look that had sometimes fooled people into calling him a “dumb Dutchman,” that being the sort of sophisticated epithet folks around here came up with. Adam was not that.