Murder in Plain Sight by Marta Perry Page A

on the front porch. Motionless, their faces impassive, they waited.
    Swallowing the qualms she felt, Jessica slid from the car. She hesitated at the edge of the grass until Trey took her arm and propelled her forward.
    “Jessica, you remember Aaron Esch, Thomas’sfather, and Molly, his mother. This is Bishop Amos Long. That’s Elizabeth, Thomas’s sister. Everyone, this is Jessica Langdon.”
    Thomas’s mother nodded, her face as pale and strained as it had been in the courtroom. His father stood as if carved out of stone. The sister, who must have been about fifteen or so, gave her a tentative smile.
    Only the bishop, his face widening into a smile, came forward, extending his hand.
    Jessica shook hands, surprised by the strength of his grip. The bishop had to be well up in years, with a weathered, lined face and an impressively long white beard, but the lively curiosity in his eyes belied his age.
    “Wilcom, Jessica. Wilcom. You are the lawyer who is going to help our Thomas.”
    “I’m trying my best, sir.” She wasn’t sure how one addressed an Amish bishop, but that seemed a safe choice. Obviously, he didn’t share the minister’s opinion of her involvement.
    “Bishop Amos,” Trey murmured in her ear.
    “Komm, komm.” The bishop waved them into the house as if he were the host. “We must talk. Molly has the rest of the young ones busy so they will not hear.”
    Jessica had already glimpsed a small face peering at them from the barn behind the farmhouse, and another popped up from the vegetable garden momentarily and disappeared again. She had a feeling if she looked hard enough, she’d spot a few more, but already she and Trey were being ushered into the living room.
    She took a quick glance around, hoping she didn’t appear too curious. It looked like any farmhouse living room, she supposed, with bright braided rugs on polished wood floors and a tall bookcase next to a couch. No television, though, and the only ornament on the walls was a large, framed family tree.
    She took the chair Bishop Amos pulled out for her, and Trey sat down next to her. Trey looked solemn, which befitted the occasion, but relaxed and at ease.
    No butterflies danced in his stomach, obviously. Now that she was here, how was she going to communicate with the family? The father sat like a statue, and both the females stared down at their hands, folded in their laps, their prayer caps like white birds on their heads.
    “Now.” Bishop Amos settled himself in a highbacked rocking chair. “You must tell us how we can help you with Thomas’s defense.”
    The father stirred slightly at that. “It is not fitting. Amish do not hire lawyers.”
    She opened her mouth to answer, but Bishop Amos beat her to it. “You did not hire the lawyer. The Morgan family did, and we should be thankful.”
    “The Ordnung says…”
    Bishop Amos leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The Ordnung is meant to show us how to live separate from the world. It is not meant to allow one of our young ones to go to jail for a wrong he didn’t do. When we are forced into the English courts, we must accept the help of those who understand.”
    The weight and pace of the words, combined with the bishop’s grave stare, would have convinced her, had she been the target. Aaron stared back for a moment. Then he bowed his head in apparent agreement.
    Her tension eased, but… “I appreciate your cooperation. When I met Ezra Burkhalter at the county jail, he led me to believe that my help wasn’t welcome.”
    The lines in Bishop Amos’s face seemed todeepen. “Amish are not all alike,” he said, in an echo of Trey’s words. “Brother Ezra and I do not agree on this matter.”
    “And the rest of your congregation?”
    “Each has his own opinion,” he said. “That is only right. I trust that Aaron and Molly will be guided by me in this trouble.”
    She hoped so, but she didn’t miss the tightening of Aaron’s lips at the words.
    The bishop looked at