Plain Protector

by Alison Stone

  “You really love that stuff.”

  Christina laughed. “Love is a strong word.” She took a long sip with her eyes closed, then lifted them to study him. “What brings you here bright and early, big brother?” She held up her hand. “Oh, let me guess. Does it have anything to do with a pretty, petite blonde who got three stitches in her forehead last night?”

  “Am I that transparent?” A corner of his mouth quirked up.

  “I’m your sister. You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve.”

  “This has nothing to do with my heart.”

  Christina arched a skeptical brow. “Really?” She put the coffee down and sat on the corner of her desk and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I know you can’t break doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “But you’re hoping I might?”

  “No, but is there something I need to know? To protect her.”

  Christina laughed. “Right. You’re looking for an excuse to talk to her again. I don’t blame you. It’s been, what...a year or so since you and Amber went your separate ways.”

  Just the mention of the name Amber sent Nick’s mood spiraling into the depths of the foulest garbage dump. He and Amber had met five years ago at a Christmas party at his parents’ home. They hit it off and had been inseparable until Nick was deployed. Turned out, Amber wasn’t the kind to wait. Turned out, Amber and someone—Troy or Trey or something like that—were secretly dating behind his back.

  Amber sent him a Dear John letter while he was still deployed. It was like getting punched while dodging IEDs.

  “Yeah, do me a favor, don’t mention Amber.” Nick hadn’t dated anyone seriously since. He didn’t trust his instincts. He had thought Amber was the one. Turns out so did Troy/Trey. They were married a few months ago at the country club. Their wedding had been featured prominently on the front page of the LifeStyle section of the newspaper. Nick suspected Amber loved money more than him, and when she realized he wasn’t going to follow in his parents’ footsteps, she decided she had better find another meal ticket.

  The coffee roiled in his gut. How had he not seen through Amber?

  Christina pushed off her desk and turned around to fumble with some neatly stacked papers. He knew his sister well enough to know she was struggling to decide how much to tell him about Sarah.

  Nick respected her job, the need for confidentiality. But he’d also hate to ignore his instincts on this one. Sure, his dating instincts were terrible, but his law enforcement instincts were usually spot-on.

  Sarah was afraid of something. More than a rock thrown through the basement window.

  Christina picked up a clipboard and held it close to her chest. “You might want to pay Sarah a visit. You could tell her you’re following up from last night. I think she needs someone to talk to.”

  He studied his sister closely.

  “And hey, maybe you could ask her out for dinner.”

  Nick’s head jerked back. “I’m done with women with secrets.”

  Christina pinned him with her gaze. “You’re going to have to get over Amber.”

  “I’m over her.”

  Christina didn’t say anything, suggesting she doubted him. “Then, go out and visit Sarah. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

  “I don’t make a habit of asking crime victims out on a date.”

  Christina touched his arm. “Will you please get over yourself? We live in a small town. If an attractive young woman happens to move here, there’s nothing wrong with asking her out on a date.”

  Nick felt flustered in only the way a little sister could fluster a big brother. “I didn’t come out here to ask you for dating advice. I came as a sheriff’s deputy to ask you if there’s something I should know about our newest resident.”

  Christina frowned. “And you know full well I couldn’t tell you.” With both her hands planted on his chest, she shoved him playfully toward the door. He put one hand on the lid of his coffee to prevent it from spilling.

  Nick stepped out onto the pavement of the back alley, the sun now above the trees. Christina held the door open with her shoulder. She tapped the metal trim on the bottom of the door with her black loafers. “Sarah could use a friend.”

  Nick studied his sister’s face. Christina was the only one who truly got him. He smiled. “Go finish your coffee before it gets cold.”

  A shrill buzz sounded from inside the clinic. Someone was at the front door. “Looks like duty calls.”

  “Have a good day, little sis.”

  “You, too. Be safe.”

  Nick waved and watched as the door slammed shut. Instinctively he tested the lock, making sure his sister was secure in the clinic. He knew he couldn’t protect everyone at all times...but he’d sure try.

  The image of Sarah’s pretty face filled his mind. His gut told him she was in need of protecting.

  * * *

  Sarah flipped back the covers on her purple-and-pink bedspread with oversize tulips and gazed around her childhood bedroom. She glanced down at her favorite Holly Hobbie nightgown and ran her hand along its soft fabric. Even in her dream, Sarah knew she was dreaming. She turned her gaze to the corner. Her dolly was tucked under a quilt her mother had made in a crib her father had taken special pride in crafting.

  Sarah had had a charmed childhood. Until that fateful day...

  Sarah’s dreaming self flipped her legs over the edge of the bed and swung them, trying to take it all in. Trying to memorize every detail of this dream. Hoping her father would come in to kiss her goodnight. To say their evening prayers together.

  Feelings of warmth and nostalgia made her smile.

  Sarah stretched her legs and curled her toes into the shag rug shaped in the form of a rainbow. She loved that rug. She had spent countless hours with her dollies on that rug pretending they lived in a retro 70s apartment.

  Bang! Bang!

  Still dreaming, Sarah snapped her attention to the closed bedroom door.

  Thud...thud...thud.

  Sarah rolled over, consciousness seeping into her dream world. She cracked her eyes open a slit, and a stream of sunshine slipped in through the edge of the white roller shades. Her Amish-made quilt was pretty, but not the same as her childhood favorite. The quilt had slid off the edge of her bed during her fitful dreams. She blinked a few times, trying to recall the last one. The warm fuzziness of it. The return to her childhood.

  She smiled and stretched. Talking to her mom last night had made for some vivid dreams. She was surprised she had even slept. She had tossed and turned for hours, until finally getting up around four in the morning. She had gone downstairs, got a glass of water and written in her journal a bit. Her journal kept her sanity, allowing her to empty her mind of her worst fears and worries. Allowing her mind to quiet so she could drift off to sleep.

  Sighing, Sarah swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her toes touched the smooth wood of the pine floor. Nothing to curl her toes into. Maybe she’d buy herself an area rug. Undoubtedly the Apple Creek General Store probably didn’t carry what she was looking for. The market for 70s shag here in Apple Creek was slim to nonexistent.

  A distant thought niggled at her brain. Had something woken her up? A sound? Sarah rolled her shoulders. She was probably still spooked from the incident last night at the church. Lifting her hand, she touched the bandage on her forehead and groaned.

  She’d get lots of questions today from her clients. She’d mention the broken window, but play it off. She preferred to keep the focus on them. Not her.

  Sarah quickly got ready for the day and twirled her hair into a ponytail. Living out here in the country, she had come to enjoy jeans, a T-shirt, no makeup and no-fuss hair. In many ways it was freeing.

  Jimmy preferred it when she was all made up.

&n
bsp; Sarah jogged down the stairs and froze with her hand on the railing. The front door stood ajar. She took a step back and lost her balance, landing on her backside on the stairs. She pulled herself up by the railing. Her heart beat wildly in her ears. She bent and leaned over the railing, trying to see if someone had come into her house. She hadn’t left the door open last night.

  Or unlocked.

  And her house was secure when she had gotten up in the middle of the night.

  She bit her lower lip, and her legs went to Jell-O.

  Had Jimmy found her after all? Picked the lock? Had it been a coincidence that some boys had been caught smashing bottles against an alley wall near the church where a window was broken?

  Cautiously, she descended the remaining stairs, listening for any out-of-place creak, voice, breath...anything that would indicate she wasn’t alone. She inhaled deeply through her nose, wondering if she could detect Jimmy’s cologne, a scent that often lingered in a room long after he had left.

  Nothing.

  Leaving the door open—it would serve as a quick escape if she needed it—Sarah tiptoed through the sitting room and into the kitchen. She stiffened in the doorway, panic sending ripples of goose bumps racing across her flesh.

  Her hand flew to her mouth to cover a silent scream. There on the table were the remains of a thick snake, its head cut off and placed on top of the phone she had used last night. The phone she had carefully tucked back into the center drawer of the hutch. Her diary sat on the edge of the table where she had left it.

  Nerves on edge, she backed up.

  Get out! Get out!

  A solid chest and firm hands on her arms stopped her backward progression.

  A scream ripped from her throat.

  FOUR

  “It’s okay. It’s me.” Nick released his grasp on Sarah’s arms and stepped around in front of her so she could see him. “It’s Nick Jennings. You’re okay.”

  Sarah clamped her mouth shut and a hint of embarrassment touched the corners of her eyes.

  Nick’s gaze drifted from her frightened face to the tableau on Sarah’s kitchen table. “What happened here?” He quickly glanced around the room.

  “Do you think I honestly know?” Her voice held more than an edge of annoyance. “I came downstairs and found this.” She jabbed her index finger at the coiled-up snake on her kitchen table. She picked up a small book on the edge of the table and slipped it into the hutch.

  “Was your front door open when you came downstairs?” He made the logical leap, having found the door yawning open upon his arrival.

  “Yes.” She rubbed her forehead and winced when she made contact with the bandage. “I don’t understand. I locked up last night after you left.”

  “You didn’t hear anything?”

  Sarah shook her head; all the color had drained from her already pale face.

  “I came down around four in the morning to get a glass of water. There was nothing on the table then—I’m sure of it. I mean, other than my notebook.” With a shaky hand, she pointed toward the hutch where she had just put the book. “Whoever did this, did it in the early-morning hours.”

  Nick tipped his head, looking out the back kitchen window. From here, he could see a couple Amish boys doing chores at the neighboring barn. “Maybe someone next door saw something. I’ll go pay them a visit.”

  “Ephram and Ruben Zook were picked up last night for smashing bottles, remember? I don’t think they’re going to want to talk to you.” Sarah pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. She moved as if to put her elbows on the table when she grimaced at the proximity of the snake and slumped against the tall wooden back of the chair and crossed her arms. Every muscle in her body seemed to be trembling.

  “Did they admit to throwing the rock through the church window?” Sarah looked up at Nick with a hint of hope in her eyes that he didn’t understand.

  “No. Only a few bottles were smashed. They hadn’t meant any harm and promised to clean it up today. Apparently, they were returning home after the Sunday singings when they ran into some of their Englisch friends.” He lifted his palms. “Might have been a case of hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

  Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. “Let’s leave them out of this then. I don’t want to stir up any more trouble.”

  “That ship has sailed. Between last night and this morning, it seems you have poked a hornet’s nest.”

  She looked up at him with an unreadable expression.

  He leaned in closer to examine a cell phone under a severed snake’s head. Gruesome. He frowned. “I have a hard time believing the same person who threw a rock through the window did this.” He winced at the putrid smell. “Dismembering animals? That’s sick.” He shook his head. “Not to mention breaking and entering.”

  Sarah rubbed the back of her neck but didn’t say anything.

  “Is there anything else you might want to share with me?” Nick thought of the vague reference his sister had made. Did Sarah have dark secrets that put her in jeopardy? Or had some punks thought it would be great fun to harass a single woman living out in the country on her own?

  Sarah’s weary gaze shifted to the badge on his uniform, then up to his face. The brief moment of vulnerability disappeared and was replaced by an inscrutable expression. “No. I don’t know who did this.”

  “What are you hiding?” Nick’s job always had him pushing for the truth from people who often weren’t willing to offer it.

  Was she a fugitive?

  The unlikely scenario flitted from his brain when footsteps sounded on the front porch. “Hello,” called a woman with the lilt he recognized as belonging to the Amish.

  Nick moved to the front door. Sarah followed close behind.

  Nick stepped into the doorway and was greeted by an Amish woman with a young Amish girl by her side. Sarah slipped next to him and paused in the doorway. Standing this close to her emphasized how petite and vulnerable she was.

  “Good morning, Temperance,” Sarah greeted the Amish woman, then her gaze dropped to the little girl, no more than seven or eight years old, holding her mother’s hand. “Morning, Patience.”

  Temperance fidgeted with the apron on her dress. “Is everything okay? We noticed you had law enforcement over here. I know my boys got in some trouble last night. This doesn’t have anything to do with that, does it? They said they weren’t near the church.” The Amish woman’s gaze drifted from Nick to the bandage on her neighbor’s head. “My boys are gut. They wouldn’t have damaged a church.”

  Sarah lifted her hand and touched the bandage gingerly. “I know. Ruben and Ephram have been nothing but helpful to me.”

  “Is everything okay this morning?” Temperance asked.

  Sarah waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m fine. Deputy Jennings was checking up on me.” Nick had never actually told her why he had shown up this morning. Checking in on her was part of it. The other was to see if she was in any real danger. Based on the circumstances, he’d have to go with yes.

  As if reading his mind, Sarah squared her shoulders and stepped onto the porch. Was she trying to block the view into her home to make sure her neighbor’s young daughter wasn’t frightened by the dead snake on the table? Nick doubted they’d be able to see all the way into the kitchen. To be sure, Nick joined her and pulled the door closed behind him. “Hate to let bugs into the house.”

  “Everything’s okay.” Sarah smiled at the child. “You want to come over later and we’ll read more of Laura Ingalls Wilder?”

  The little girl smiled brightly, but her mother took her by the shoulders and guided her toward the porch steps. “Patience has a few chores to do. I don’t know if she’ll have time for stories.”

  Sarah’s shoulders sagged, and the small smile slid from her lips. “Okay.” The single word
held so much disappointment.

  Temperance brushed at an imaginary spot on her cape. “We wanted to make sure everything was gut over here. That’s all. We have a lot to do on the farm.”

  The two guests said their goodbyes, and Sarah’s eyes followed the pair as they crossed the yard to their home next door.

  “Temperance is usually friendlier to me,” Sarah said, almost as if musing to herself. “She must be upset that I got her boys into trouble.”

  “You didn’t get her boys into trouble. They made their own decision when they smashed the bottles. Besides, the Amish aren’t partial to law enforcement. Maybe once they knew you were okay, they were eager to leave because of me.” Nick wanted to run the back of his fingers across the porcelain skin of her cheek and give her the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech, but he knew better. She was a stranger, really. Prior to last night, he had only passed her with little more than a “Hello” or “Goodbye” in small-town Apple Creek.

  Sarah sat down on the top step of the porch. Her pink toes curved around the edge of the step. “What brought you out here this morning, Deputy Jennings?” She emphasized his title, as if it were a bad thing. “Did your sister talk to you?”

  Walking over to the railing, he rubbed the back of his neck. He leaned back against the railing so that they were almost back-to-back. He turned to study her serious profile. It was as if she didn’t want to make eye contact. “It’s not what you think. My sister always respects doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “But you suspected something more was going on than a rock through a church window?”

  Nick let the silence stretch between them. A gust of wind rustled up and bent the corn stalks growing in the fields next to her house.

  Sarah ran a hand down her long ponytail and shifted to face him, a serious expression in her bright blue eyes. “I’m afraid he’s found me.” Her shoulders drew up, then came down on a heavy sigh.

  Nick jerked his head back, and he pushed off the railing. He slipped past her on the steps and turned around to face her so he could look into her eyes. “Who found you?” Nick didn’t understand the protective urge he felt for this woman. He hardly knew her.