Plain Cover-Up

by Alison Stone

  Naomi’s hand flew to her midsection. She looked like she was going to be sick. “I can’t get involved.” She balled up the cuff of her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. “I don’t know the address or anything.”

  “I don’t know the exact address, either, but I know how to find the house. I’d have to show you. There was a sign in front,” Cheryl said.

  “I want to forget this night. Please.” Naomi bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. “I want to forget it ever happened.”

  Christina pressed the palms of her hands together. “You can’t go home until your clothes are cleaned, right?” She opened her eyes wide, pleading. “We’ll take a drive in Dylan’s truck. You can show us the location. We won’t stop. We won’t get out of the car. No one will ever know it was you. Okay?”

  “Why?” Naomi said, the defeat in her tone evident. “It won’t change anything.”

  Dylan was about to say something when he noticed the rigid set of Christina’s body. Anger and maybe something akin to regret flashed in the depths of her eyes. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but it’s important that you seek justice.” Christina’s voice cracked over the last word and she shook her head briefly, as if trying to snap out of it. “Another young college girl was drugged recently at a party. We need to put a stop to this.”

  Dread knotted Dylan’s gut. Christina spoke as if this were personal. Was it? Had something happened to her? Shame washed over him. He had returned to Apple Creek with his own bags packed to their bursting seams with regret, guilt and anger. Never once did he consider that Christina—the physician with wealthy parents, the woman who had everything, the woman who followed her dreams—had had her own share of troubles.

  “The Amish ways are not like yours,” Naomi said flatly. “We handle things among our own.”

  Christina blinked her eyes slowly, as if trying to tame her frustration. “I consider you a friend, Naomi. We’ve chatted a bit each time when you’ve come in to work, right? I know you’re happy in the Amish community.”

  “Yah.”

  “This person may try to spike other girls’ drinks. He may have already done it.”

  “Are you serious?” Cheryl asked in disbelief, her long ponytail swinging as her hooded eyes darted from Christina to Dylan and back to Christina.

  “Yes, I’m serious.” Christina threaded her fingers and held her hands in front of her, pleading with Naomi. “I want you to show us, but I won’t force you.”

  Naomi rubbed her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve, then pulled it away, revealing watery eyes and a tear tracking down her cheek.

  “Yah,” Naomi whispered, her shoulders easing down from her ears. “We’ll show you. But please don’t tell anyone.”

  * * *

  Cheryl was the far more chatty of the two as she gave Dylan directions to the location of the party. She seemed to enjoy the spotlight. Something about it rubbed Dylan the wrong way, or maybe her manner seemed so forward in contrast to Naomi’s quiet nature.

  “How did you two meet?” Dylan finally asked.

  “Naomi cleans homes in town.” Dylan wished Cheryl would let Naomi speak for herself.

  “The extra money helps my family,” Naomi said, her voice low.

  “You were at the Webbs’ house—right?—and heard about his party.” Cheryl didn’t wait for Naomi to answer. “Aaron Webb had a big party and invited you. I was floored when I found out you were Amish.” She scooted up on the edge of the backseat so her voice got louder. “Naomi was dressed normally, like in jeans and T-shirt.” Then as if realizing her backhanded slam, Cheryl added, “I mean, you weren’t dressed Amish. Anyway, we started seeing each other around at different parties and stuff and became friends. Like what, six months ago?”

  “Yah.” Naomi sounded resigned. “Cleaning all those homes, I started to think I’d rather live in the outside world. But I was wrong.”

  “Well, thanks.” Cheryl laughed, obviously not offended.

  “You know what I mean,” Naomi said. “I’m more suited to the Amish Way. I went to the party tonight dressed the way I was raised because I was hoping to talk to a friend. I wasn’t looking to drink and I certainly never expected to have someone put something in my drink.” Her voice grew softer and Dylan looked in the rearview mirror to see Naomi staring out the window. “I should have never had that beer.”

  Christina shifted in her seat to face Naomi. Christina’s hair had begun to dry in ringlets around her face. “None of this is your fault.”

  “Turn right at the stop sign,” Cheryl interjected.

  In the rearview mirror, Dylan noticed Naomi biting her bottom lip. Something about this entire story didn’t add up, but it wasn’t his job to figure it out. He wasn’t FBI. Not while he was on leave. He was a college professor. He was only here because he cared for Christina and for the well-being of this young woman.

  Dylan stopped at the corner and was surprised to see a young Amish man in a wagon entering the intersection. It was after ten in the evening. The rain had stopped and a bright moon illuminated the countryside.

  In the back, Naomi gasped and slouched in the seat.

  “It’s Lloyd,” Cheryl whispered, a hint of awe in her voice. Then to him and Christina, “Lloyd Burkholder is the boy Naomi hoped to see at the party.”

  Naomi covered her face with the palm of her hand. It was unlikely the young man would have recognized anyone inside the dark cab of the truck, but she obviously didn’t want to take any chances. “He’ll never take me back if he thinks I haven’t forsaken my former ways. Do you think he knows what happened?”

  “You know how people talk,” her friend said. “You’ll have to explain what happened. He’ll take you back. I know it.”

  “How can I explain when I don’t even know?” The young woman sounded on the verge of tears.

  “I’ll help you any way I can,” Christina said. “Maybe you should reconsider calling the sheriff.”

  “Neh.”

  The horse and wagon proceeded through the intersection and Lloyd tipped his broad-brimmed hat in their direction, not an unusual gesture in the friendly Amish community.

  Dylan lifted a hand in greeting, then turned right as instructed. He knew they were almost near their location when Naomi slid farther down in her seat; any farther and she’d be curled up in a ball on the floor. “The barn is behind the house with the sign on the front lawn.”

  Dylan scanned the landscape and noticed a gold Sold sticker splashed across an Apple Creek Realty sign staked in the front lawn. The house and adjacent barn were dark.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s moved in yet,” Christina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do either of you know who was hosting the party?”

  “Neh,” Naomi said.

  “A bunch of kids probably heard it was an empty house. Prime party spot,” Cheryl said. “I heard about the party in town.”

  “I don’t see any cars or horses by the barn.” Dylan slowed to a near stop.

  “Like I said...” Cheryl sounded like a girl who didn’t like to repeat herself. “Everyone scattered when Ben went tearing out of there with Naomi in the backseat.”

  Dylan glanced over at Christina who seemed intent on studying the landscape. “Do you think anyone’s still out there?” she asked.

  “Not likely. Don’t you remember bolting from a party when you were a kid? They’re probably long gone by now.”

  Christina clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure what we should do now.” She glanced over her shoulder into the backseat. “Are you okay, Naomi?”

  “I’m gut.”

  “Please know you can talk to me anytime. Sometimes after the event...” Christina’s voice trailed off and she seemed to change course. “Know that I’m here.”r />
  “Yah.” Naomi’s reply sounded less than convincing. “How did you know Lloyd was supposed to show up?” Naomi asked Cheryl.

  “Just heard a bunch of people talking, that’s all.” A hint of defensiveness crept into Cheryl’s tone. “You were the one who really wanted to go.”

  “It wonders me what I was thinking.” Naomi tugged on the bottom of the sweatshirt. “Lloyd, the boy in the wagon, was courting me. We rode home together after Sunday singings. I thought it was a matter of time before we started making plans for marriage. And then...” She sniffed. “I started to doubt things. I met Cheryl. I thought she had so many more choices in life. I thought maybe it would be fun to live Englisch.”

  “Bubble burst.” Cheryl laughed and Dylan watched her make an explosion gesture with her widespread fingers.

  Dylan drove past the property, scanning the entire area without detecting anything suspicious lurking among the shadows. But that only meant the kids were good at hiding. He went to the first cross street and turned around.

  “When I realized Lloyd wasn’t there, I was upset and decided to have a beer.” Naomi’s voice got very soft. “I’m stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid, Naomi. Don’t be hard on yourself.” Christina shifted in the seat next to him.

  “I had the beer and then I felt dizzy. Tired. I still feel a little dizzy.”

  Christina sighed. “The lab will be able to determine from your urine sample what they gave you.”

  “I don’t see why it matters. I want to forget the whole thing.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Cheryl said. “Easier to move on. Lloyd will never know what happened. You guys might get back together yet.”

  Dylan cut a sideways glance at Christina. She was clenching her jaw, obviously holding back. Staring out the windshield, she asked him in a softer voice, “You see anything suspicious?”

  He shook his head. “It’s dark. Once they scatter, it might be near impossible to find the responsible party. Especially if Naomi’s memory is hazy. And if she doesn’t want to pursue this.”

  “I don’t,” Naomi spit out, probably the most forceful thing she had said since they got in the car. “What Amish man will want me if he thinks I’ve been...” She let her words trail off. “Nothing really bad happened to me. Someone put something in my drink. I’m fine now. But I don’t want people to talk about me. Make up stories about things that never happened.”

  Christina turned to face Naomi as best she could. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  “I went to the party. I drank the beer.”

  “That doesn’t give anyone the right to take advantage of you.”

  “Nothing happened,” Cheryl repeated, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Everyone said Ben noticed you acting strangely so he got you out of there. Ben’s a good guy.”

  Naomi sniffed but didn’t say anything.

  “Let’s go back to the clinic. See about Naomi’s dress. Once it’s dry, she can change, then I’ll drive her home,” Christina said with her well-honed bedside manner.

  “What will I tell my parents?” a panicked Naomi asked, as if she had only now thought of the fact she’d have to go home eventually. “They’ll wonder where I’ve been. I hadn’t planned on staying out this late.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Christina said. “If it makes it easier for you, I’ll explain that you were with me. They know you clean my office. We’ll omit the details so you don’t have to lie.” Christina paused. “If you think that will help.”

  “Yah, denki.”

  When they reached the clinic, Dylan climbed out of the car and met Christina, Cheryl and Naomi at the door.

  “Well, I better go,” Cheryl said. “I don’t imagine Naomi’s parents will want me dropping her off.”

  Naomi smiled, a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for being a gut friend.”

  “I try,” Cheryl said with more than a hint of self-deprecation. “Even though being English is rotten eggs and you’d rather be Amish.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened. “It’s not that.”

  Cheryl smiled and took a step backward toward her car. “I was teasing. Trying to lighten the mood.” Then Cheryl’s expression grew somber. “I feel bad that I didn’t warn you to never leave your drink unattended. They taught us that in high school health class.”

  “Do you remember who gave you the beer? Was it already opened?” Dylan asked, mentally scolding himself for not asking the question earlier.

  Naomi slanted her eyes away as if giving it considerable thought. “I don’t remember.”

  Cristina unlocked the door to the clinic. “I’ll go check on her clothes.”

  They made small talk while they waited for Naomi’s clothes to dry. Finally, once they were done, Christina handed them to Naomi who gave her a weary smile.

  “Go change and we’ll take you home.”

  Naomi disappeared into the exam room and Dylan turned to Christina. “Chasing down the bad guy goes above and beyond the duties of the town doctor.”

  Christina’s eyes held a clarity he had never noticed before. “If I don’t help her, who will? She’ll never go to the police.” Turning her back to him, she straightened a stack of papers on the counter behind her. “It will eat at her forever.”

  Dylan resisted the urge to touch Christina’s arm, to comfort her. He could tell by the rigid set of her shoulders that his attempts would only be rebuffed. He wanted to ask her so many questions, but right now, one question lingered foremost on his mind. “What next?”

  She turned around. “Take Naomi home.”

  “That’s fine. But you can’t go snooping around on your own. It’s not safe. Do you think, even if they’re kids, that they’ll take kindly to you turning them in for using drugs?”

  Christina jerked her head back. A shadow lurked in the depths of her eyes. “Snooping around? Don’t make it sound like I’m some cartoon sleuth.”

  Dylan held up his palms, realizing his protective—his controlling—nature had offended her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, softening his tone.

  “I know. And I appreciate that.” She tilted her head. “What brought you out here tonight anyway?”

  “I thought you might have changed your mind about that ride, with the rain and all.”

  “I’m fortunate you were there. Thank you.” The corners of her mouth tipped up, softening the concern in her eyes. “But please don’t think I’m helpless. I can take care of myself.”

  “We don’t know if this is related to the other assault where the girl was drugged.” He widened his eyes, trying to emphasize the seriousness of this situation, trying to dissuade Christina from asking too many questions on her own. “We’re talking about a real sociopath.” He paused a minute. “Who does that? Who drugs women at parties?” The criminal mind had always fascinated him, especially the moment a person took their first steps toward a life of crime. How did a person go from hanging out, drinking with friends, to drugging drinks? Was it premeditated? Random? Or was Naomi targeted?

  Dylan missed working a case for the FBI. Teaching law and ethics didn’t give him the same adrenaline rush.

  “Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them.

  Christina planted her fists on her hips. “I’ve run this clinic for years. I’ve dealt with everything from runny noses to spaced-out patients trying to get me to write them a script for painkillers so they could get their next high.” Her eyes flashed anger. “I know how to handle myself. I know how to handle people. I know how to dial 9-1-1. If someone thinks he can drug girls at parties, he needs to be stopped.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I have every right to ask questions. And I’m careful. I know it can be a dangerous situation.”

 
Dylan dared to step forward and touch her chin with a hooked index finger. He waited for her to look up at him. When she did, he said emphatically, “Not. Your. Job.”

  Christina jerked away. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “No, I suppose it’s my job to patch up the women after they’re attacked.”

  * * *

  Christina woke up in the middle of the night with a blinding headache. Fortunately it had dulled to a quiet roar by morning. She was grateful for that. Lying awake most of the night rehashing the events surrounding Naomi had contributed to her blah feelings. But as much as she’d like to, her work ethic wouldn’t allow her to stay in bed all day. Before Georgia, she could never call in late. Even now, she didn’t like to take advantage. But today she decided she had to. Fortunately, Georgia had already been scheduled at the clinic this morning and insisted she had everything covered.

  By the time Christina climbed behind the wheel of her sedan and pulled out onto the main road, the midmorning sun was like needles to her eyes. She dropped the car’s sun visor and grabbed her sunglasses. Ahhh...

  As Christina drove to the clinic, almost on autopilot, she rehashed, yet again, the events of last night. After Christina and Dylan had dropped Naomi at home, Christina had called her brother, a sheriff’s deputy. She hadn’t wanted to betray Naomi, so Christina left her name out of the conversation, but she needed to let Nick know that someone had potentially drugged a young Amish woman at a party. Law enforcement often watched trends. Maybe someone would be arrested for a similar incident.

  Christina purposely omitted the part about almost getting run over in the parking lot. Her overprotective brother would have lost all perspective then. However, Christina had hoped that when her brother tracked down Ben Reist, he would shed new light on what had transpired last night. And he’d probably reveal Naomi’s name, but in good conscience, Christina couldn’t let the perpetrator go unchecked. Unfortunately, Nick had called her late last night to say that Ben had not come home.

  Christina wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Maybe Ben wasn’t such a good guy after all.

  When Christina reached the stop sign at the same intersection they had come upon last night, she found herself turning toward the barn where Naomi had most likely been drugged. She hoped that maybe she would see something in the daylight that she had missed in the dark. The thought of letting the person who drugged Naomi get away with it galled her.