Murder in Plain Sight by Marta Perry

raised an eyebrow at her. “And my mother taught me to open a door for a lady.”
    “I’m perfectly capable of opening a truck door,” she said.
    She couldn’t keep from glancing toward the spot where she’d realized someone was there, keeping step with her in the darkness. But it wasn’t dark now, and the motor homes had vanished, their drivers off on their travels, presumably.
    She turned back around in her seat, feeling Trey’s gaze on her. She didn’t intend to tell him, any more than she’d told the police, but for a completely different set of reasons.
    Trey might believe her. And if he did…well, he’d jump in and try to take control, of course. She’d learned that much about him already. After that treacherous moment of weakness she’d felt with him last night, she had to keep her guard up.
    “Is something wrong?” Trey frowned as he pulled out onto the street from the parking lot. “You look as if you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
    She hadn’t. “I’m fine.”
    She would not appear weak in front of him. She’d started learning self-reliance the day she’d gone, a weeping eight-year-old, to boarding school. She wasn’t going to regress now.
    “You sure?” She could almost feel his gaze probing.
    “Positive.” She managed a smile. “Is it far to the Esch place?”
    “Just a couple of miles down the road from our house.” He didn’t sound convinced, but at least he’d accepted her answer.
    “Any words of wisdom about dealing with these people?”
    He shot her a cold look. “First off, don’t say ‘these people’ in that condescending way.”
    “I didn’t mean—I don’t look down on them. I just don’t understand them.”
    “Amish aren’t all the same.” He sounded exasperated with her. Or annoyed. “They may dress alike and look alike, but they’re individuals. Aaron, Thomas’s father, has always been pretty strict with him, maybe because Thomas is the oldest child.Molly, his mother, well, I’d say she dotes on him a bit, maybe for the same reason.”
    She was tempted to ask if the same was true between him and his parents, but she didn’t quite dare.
    “There are seven younger children.”
    “Seven?” she murmured.
    He grinned. “The Amish tend to have big families. I’m not sure how many of them you’ll meet today. Aaron and Molly are trying to protect the younger ones from this. Oh, and Amos Long will be there. He’s the bishop of the local congregation.”
    That news landed on her with a thud. “After our experience with the minister, I don’t think I want a bishop mixed up in this case. It’s complicated enough as it is.”
    “Trust me, you do want Bishop Amos involved. Without his urging, I doubt Aaron would even have agreed to talk with you. Aaron’s pretty hidebound, and the Amish don’t get involved with the law.”
    She kept hearing that, and it was starting to exasperate her. “I appreciate the bishop’s influence, but in my experience, religion and the courtroom don’t mix well.”
    “You can’t separate the Amish from their religion.” Trey’s expression was that of someonepushing a rock up a steep hill—the rock in this case being her ignorance of Amish culture, she supposed. “They are Amish because of what they believe.”
    “Even so—”
    “Look, I’m not saying this will come into the case.” His tone said exactly the opposite. “But you’d do well to accept any help the bishop offers.” He made the turn onto Dale Road. “Not far now.”
    He’d be relieved to be out of her company—that much was clear from his voice. She was tempted to feel the same, except for one thing. Right at the moment she needed Trey.
    He turned into a rough gravel lane leading between two fields. Brown-and-white cows looked up curiously as the vehicle passed then lowered their heads to continue munching.
    Trey stopped the truck behind a gray Amish buggy. Maybe alerted by the dust they’d raised coming down the lane, a small group stood