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small town people were always ready to believe the worst of someone like him.
Old news, Adam reminded himself. Past history. They’d both been over it a long time ago.
He turned to the computer, focusing on whether or not an answer had come through on the paint fragments the CSI guys had scraped off the buggy. Nothing yet, but they’d agreed to rush it.
Running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, he looked at the large-scale township map on the wall behind his desk.
What were you doing, Esther? Where were you going that time of night?
The phone buzzed. Ginger, the dispatcher, must be trying to impress someone. Usually she just shouted for him. Ginger had come in unasked this morning to see what she could do to help.
“Libby Morgan here to see you, Chief.”
He’d think of an excuse if he could, but it was too late. Ginger must have waved Libby on back, because the office door was already opening. He rose, shoving his chair back, and it hit the wall in protest.
“Libby. I didn’t expect to see you this early.” His gaze sharpened on her face, drawn and exhausted-looking. “You look beat,” he said abruptly. “Didn’t you get any rest?”
She shook her head, the blond ponytail and red ski jacket making her look about fifteen if you didn’t look at the lines of tension and pain around her eyes.
“I stayed at the hospital until morning. It seemed to comfort Esther’s mother to have me there, and I was able to run interference with the medical people.”
He nodded, knowing the truth of that. As far as Rebecca Zook was concerned, Libby was like another daughter. Their relationship had deep roots, and even though Libby lived far away, it was still solid. “Is there any change?”
He gestured to his visitor’s chair. Libby sat down but perched on the edge of the seat, as if she’d fly off again any minute.
“No change as far as we could tell.” Her voice thickened on the words. “The doctor on duty seemed to be surprised that she had survived the night.”
He tried to think of something comforting to say and couldn’t. “I’m sorry.”
Libby’s dark blue eyes looked even darker with emotion. “She did get through the night, so I’m taking that as a good sign. Maybe when I get there—”
“You ought to be home, getting some sleep.” His voice was gruff as he tried to conceal an uprush of concern.
“You sound like my mother.” There was a snap in her voice.
He tried to smile, wanting to ease the tension between them. “Speaking of your mother, I’m surprised Geneva let you go.”
“She knows I’m only doing what she would do in this situation.” She glanced down, seeming to focus on her hands, clutching together in her lap. “She’ll be at the hospital herself later—you can count on that.”
His heart twisted. “I wanted to talk to you, but it can wait, if you need to get back.”
“Talk about what?” She focused on his face, her gaze so intent it was like being touched.
“Those letters you received from Esther.” He frowned. “I don’t suppose you brought them?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot you wanted to see them. I can drop them off later, but I’ve already told you what they said.” Her chin lifted. “Are you actually taking me seriously now?”
I always take you seriously, Libby .
“I’m not convinced the letters had anything to do with her accident, but I’m not dismissing the idea.” He frowned, glancing toward the map again. “Nobody seems to know what Esther was doing on that road last night. Or if they do, they’re not telling me.”
She considered that, following his gaze to the map. Then she rose, coming around the desk to stand next to him, staring at it.
“Esther was where? About here?” She put her finger on the narrow line that represented the road, her sleeve brushing his.
There wasn’t enough air in the office. It was always small, but now the walls closed in around him. No, around them .
“A little farther along.” His touched the map,