Plain Outsider

by Alison Stone

  Harrison nodded. “Yes, they mentioned that in my training.” What little training the small-town sheriff’s department had provided. He frowned. “You think an Amish person vandalized your car?”

  “I don’t know what to think. The car has been parked here all night on the edge of the parking lot by the trees. Pretty easy for someone to sneak in and out without being seen.” She ran a hand across the top of her head. Her long blond hair had been braided, then pinned over her head, almost like the Swiss Miss girl. Something told him she was holding back, as if she had her suspicions as to who had vandalized her car.

  “Go inside and report this. I’ll wait. Give you a ride home.”

  “Are you sure?” Skepticism flickered in her eyes as she glanced toward the sheriff’s station, then at him.

  “Yes, go.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out his business card and handed it to her. “My cell phone number’s on here. If you come out and I’m not here, call me. I’ll swing by and pick you up.” He had no idea how long the report would take.

  She took the card and slipped it into her back pocket.

  Harrison watched the deputy cross the parking lot to the station. He sensed, rather than saw, another patrol car approaching. He tugged open his patrol car door and the cold air from the AC hit his legs. The car inched past, coming awfully close to his open door, and stopped. Harrison squinted, unable to see the officer’s face due to the brim of his hat.

  The window slid down. Harrison tilted his head to see inside. The officer had his wrist casually slung on top of the steering wheel, blocking the name tag on his chest. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes.

  “A little advice for the new guy.”

  Harrison wondered how long he had to be here before he was no longer the new guy. He gestured toward the driver to get on with it even though he didn’t want his advice.

  “Stay away from the chick. She’s toxic.”

  Harrison crossed his arms and glared at the deputy, struggling to place him, then finally remembering his name: Colin. Colin Reich. Ned’s son. No wonder he had it in for Deputy Spoth.

  “Thanks for the tip.” Harrison’s tone was even. He had seen office politics take down the best of them. He had no plans to stir the pot. A noncommittal answer was best.

  Behind the wheel, Colin saluted him in a mocking gesture, as if he suspected Harrison was going to do his own thing regardless. The man wasn’t wrong.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the deputy muttered before closing the window and driving away.

  THREE

  “Where do you live?” Harrison asked Becky as he put the patrol car into Drive.

  “Out on Asbury Road past the Millers’ farm.”

  He cut her a sideways glance. “Mind telling the new guy where the Miller farm is?” Before she had a chance to answer, he lifted his hand in resignation. The locals often gave directions by landmark and if he didn’t want to be forever known as the new guy, he had better figure it out. “Why don’t you just holler when I need to make a turn? Sound good?” He gestured with his chin toward the road. “A left out of here?”

  “Yeah.” Her tone sounded as flat as the four tires on her car still awaiting the tow truck in the parking lot. A part of him wondered if whoever was taking their frustration out on her was doing it not just because she testified against another deputy, but because she was a woman. Despite the calendar year, a lot of guys still believed in the good old boys’ club.

  Harrison drummed his fingers on the top of the steering wheel as he slowed to look both ways before he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Everything go okay when you reported the incident?” The sheriff seemed like a pretty solid guy, determined to make a strong showing in his new position.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  His gut told him not to ask, not to get involved. But he couldn’t help himself. “What does that mean?”

  “Apparently, I’ve attracted some unwanted attention, including getting run off the road this morning.”

  This kind of behavior really ticked him off. Negligent drivers. Probably out drinking.

  “The sheriff wanted to dismiss it as reckless driving on some back country roads, but now this...” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Here, turn at the next road. It’s quicker.” She tugged on her seat belt and continued on about the sheriff. “If he hadn’t already suspended me, he probably would have after my car was vandalized. I’m attracting the wrong kind of attention. The sheriff would probably claim a few more days off would be for my own good. Department morale seems at a low.”

  “Does the sheriff think it’s someone in his department?” He scrubbed a hand across his face.

  “Not that he’d ever say. But I wouldn’t put it past Reich himself. He’s a loose cannon.” Becky ran the palms of her hands up and down the thighs of her uniform pants.

  “His son works here, too.” Harrison thought back to the officer who drove by slowly, warning him to avoid Becky.

  “Doesn’t help. All the other deputies will feel more loyalty to the Reich family than to me, unfortunately.”

  “You going to be okay?” He stared straight ahead as fields of corn whipped by on either side of them.

  “Yeah.” What else could she say? She wasn’t exactly going to pour her heart out to him. He was a stranger.

  “You need to hire a lawyer,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She shifted in her seat to partially face him. “You really think so? Isn’t that expensive?”

  “It might be too costly not to hire a lawyer. You need someone looking out for your best interests.” He wished he had seen that his brother had got the help that he had needed instead of allowing his anger and embarrassment to put a rift between the two of them. “The sheriff’s department has had a publicity nightmare after the beating incident. The video from your dash cam made it onto all the news stations from Buffalo to Cleveland. If this new video gets out, depending on what’s on it, this story is going to grow legs and find its way into all the news cycles again. The sheriff’s department will do anything to get out of the spotlight, even if that means throwing you under the bus.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She swept her hand across her mouth and eyed him wearily. “This is a small-town sheriff’s department, not some big city.”

  “Office politics are office politics.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Does the latest video support that statement?” His gut told him she couldn’t be violent, but in an altercation, you never knew. Adrenaline and fear did things to people.

  “Yes... I used the baton to separate the men.” Becky tugged on the strap of her seat belt. “Reich’s lawyer gave the sheriff a video of me approaching the men with my baton raised.” She cleared her throat. “The rest of what happened is unclear. Whoever recorded it took off running, but...” She paused, rubbing her temples vigorously as if reliving the moment. “I used the baton to brace Reich and pull him off the kid. I didn’t hit anybody. I mean, if I hurt anyone with the baton, it would be when I forced it against Reich.” She blinked a few times. “I can’t believe this mess. I only became a deputy because I wanted to help people. Now everyone is going to think I’ve turned evil.” Her turn of expression sounded odd.

  “Take a deep breath.” He wanted to reach out and touch her hand, but decided against it. “Hiring a lawyer is a good idea, especially for the innocent.” Well, for anyone. “Don’t fight this alone. Reich has a lawyer,” he added, if she needed more convincing.

  “I don’t know,” Becky muttered. Before he had a chance to respond, her cell phone chimed. She yanked the phone from her duty belt and checked the number. “I should get this.”

  Harrison listened to a one-sided conversation. Obviously, someone Becky knew personally was in distress.

  He reached over and touched her arm and mouthed.
“What’s going on?”

  “Hold on, Mag.” She held the phone to her chest. “My sister wants me to stop over. She’s concerned about a neighbor’s dog. Again.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “It’s okay. I don’t want to impose on you any more than I already have.”

  “I don’t mind. I haven’t had any calls anyway.”

  “Um, okay.” Then into the phone. “Hang tight. I’ll be right there.”

  Becky directed Harrison toward a house nestled among a cluster of Amish homes. “Right up here. Park on the road along the cornfields. Better if they don’t see the patrol car.”

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  Becky scratched her head. “My sister. She’s worried about a neighbor’s dog that ran onto the property. It’s been an ongoing concern. The dog is hungry and not well cared for. We’ve suspected abuse, but I’ve handled it unofficially, returning the dog to his owner after they promised they’d take better care of it.” She frowned. “Obviously, that’s not working.”

  “Wait.” Harrison angled his head to look up toward the home. A buggy was parked by the barn. An Amish family obviously lived here. “Your sister?”

  “Yah, my sister.” A twinkle lit her eyes. He had a feeling the amplified Amish inflection was for his benefit.

  “Oh...” It was his turn to sound confused. “You grew up Amish?”

  She pointed to her nose and said, “Ding. Ding. Ding.”

  “Oh... Do you want me to wait here, then?” Harrison asked, suddenly feeling a little discombobulated. Amish? Really?

  Becky hesitated for a moment. “That would probably be best.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that. I’ll be right here.” Now he was repeating himself, completely caught off guard by her revelation.

  Becky climbed out of the patrol car and strode along the road and cut in between the cornfields, as if to go in undetected. He had read somewhere that the Amish shunned those who left their ranks. Perhaps Becky was sneaking in because she wasn’t welcomed.

  Harrison rubbed the back of his neck, replaying in his mind all the events that had transpired since he had held the door at the station open for Becky this morning. He hadn’t had much interaction with the deputy since he’d moved here less than a year ago, but he would have never guessed former Amish worked as deputies. Were there others?

  Now the warning in Pennsylvania Dutch to “go away” made a little more sense. But how a woman went from Amish to sheriff’s deputy was beyond him. Maybe it was time he finally learned a little more about the Amish. And maybe Becky was just the person to teach him.

  * * *

  Becky strode up the dirt path between the cornfield and the neighbor’s property. She undid the buttons on her cuffs and rolled up her sleeves, hoping to look a little less official in her sheriff’s uniform. It was early enough that perhaps her parents would be too busy with chores to notice their wayward daughter had snuck in to meet with her younger sister out back by the shed.

  She hoped.

  But if she did run into them, she wanted to downplay the fact that not only had she jumped the fence, but she had also joined the sheriff’s department. Her parents didn’t need to voice their displeasure. It was a given, not that either of them had even discussed it directly with her. It was kind of hard to confront someone when you didn’t talk to them.

  When Becky got to the shed without being discovered, she heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t think her day could get any worse.

  Until it had.

  Mag—short for Magdaline—was sitting with her back pressed against the shed, a mangy dog in her lap. At seventeen, Mag was the youngest of the Spoth family children. Three brothers separated the bookend sisters, two of which were already married. Only Abram and Mag still lived at home.

  “Hi, Mag.” Becky crouched down and her heart dropped when she saw the pain in her sister’s eyes. Becky gingerly touched the dog’s matted hair. An unpleasant aroma wafted off the unwashed dog in the summer morning heat. Becky had to stifle a groan. “This poor dog found his way over here again, didn’t he?”

  Mag nodded, her lower lip trembling, making her appear much younger than her seventeen years and reminding Becky of the preteen she had left behind almost six years ago when she decided the Amish life wasn’t for her. But now Mag was straddling childhood and the woman she would soon become. Would she choose to be baptized Amish or break their parents’ hearts as Becky had done? Mag was a big part of the reason Becky chose to stay in Quail Hollow. Sure, she left the Amish, but she couldn’t abandon her sister completely. Her three brothers had each other. Mag had no one.

  Becky inspected the dog; open sores covered the pads of his paws. “He needs medical care.”

  “I know.” Mag sniffed. “Are you going to make me return him, like last time?”

  Becky looked toward her childhood home. She didn’t see any sign of her parents. “Dat and Mem would want you to return him. He’s not ours.” Even as she made the argument, she wasn’t convinced, especially since the owner had obviously ignored her warning to take care of his pets.

  “But he’s just a little puppy,” Mag said, her words trembling as she fought back tears.

  “No one can treat an animal like this. There are laws against it.” Rage thrummed through Becky’s ears as she grew more convinced that she couldn’t hand over this dog to their neighbors. Not again. “Let’s go talk to the Kings.” The culmination of a few very bad weeks had suddenly reinforced Becky’s spine with steel. At this exact moment, she didn’t care about the consequences, not if it meant protecting this puppy.

  “Dat won’t like that.” Mag suddenly had cold feet despite her fierce need to protect the dog. “I’ll get in trouble for being disobedient.” Their father had told Mag to stop meddling in their neighbor’s business the last time the dog had wandered over. Becky heard the story secondhand when the sisters met in town for a quick cup of coffee. Their father wouldn’t have liked that, either, but he had never expressly forbidden it.

  “I’ll take the blame. There’s nothing they can do to me,” Becky said. A look of admiration crossed her sister’s delicate features, something Becky both cherished and dreaded. She didn’t want to be a negative influence on her sister. Their parents also worried about her influence. Becky wasn’t welcome at her childhood home. Shoving the thought aside, she held out her hand and helped her sister up. “Let’s go.”

  Magdaline walked alongside Becky, holding the dog in her arms, the fabric of her long dress swishing around her legs as she rushed to keep up.

  Becky slowed and held out her arms. “Hand me the dog. I’ll confront Paul. You don’t have to get in trouble.”

  Paul King, the owner of the farm next door, and Becky weren’t strangers. Far from it. But with their vastly different lifestyles now, they easily could have been. Not so long ago, he had driven her home in his courting wagon more times than she could count from Sunday singings. He confidently laid out the plans for their future, while silently she made plans for her own.

  Their more recent exchanges had been over this very same dog. Paul obviously wasn’t caring for the animals on his farm. Perhaps since his father had died and Paul had become the sole man of the house, he had let things slide. However, this time she wouldn’t hand over the dog and leave. She wanted to see for herself what was going on at her neighbor’s farm.

  “It’s okay, I’ll take the dog over and talk to him,” Becky repeated.

  Mag held the dog closer, reluctant to let him go.

  “Mag, I don’t have all day.” The sun rising higher in the sky was making her sweat in her deputy uniform. “Give me the dog and I’ll handle the situation.”

  Mag lowered her eyes to the puppy nestled in her arms. “But if he takes the dog back, he won’t be cared for. Even dogs are God’s creatures.”

  A sense of pride filled B
ecky. Her sister had far more spunk than she had at that age. However, she feared that kind of grit would get an Amish youngie in trouble more often than not.

  Becky tugged on the hem of her untucked uniform shirt. She’d hate to see what she looked like after the day she’d already had.

  And it was still early.

  Becky touched her sister’s sleeve. “The truth is, since the dog belongs to Paul, it’s very possible that we’ll have to give him back. But there are laws against inhumane treatment of animals. I can...”

  Her suspension. What could she really do while suspended?

  “We’ll figure this out. But first, I need to see what’s going on next door. Give me the dog.” She smiled encouragingly. “Go home. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Dat.”

  Mag jutted out her chin and pressed her lips together, the picture of defiance. “No, I’ll go with you. I’ll get back before Dat and Mem find out I’m gone.”

  A little twinge of guilt zipped through Becky. She didn’t mean to encourage her sister to disobey her parents, but deep in her heart, she couldn’t imagine her parents would want to let the treatment of this dog to continue unchecked. Animal cruelty was the only way this dog could have sores on his body and matted fur. “Let’s hurry up, then, so you can get back to your chores.”

  “Okay.” Her sister seemed to cheer up a bit. Big sister to the rescue.

  Becky hoped she didn’t look as ruffled as she felt, but she wanted to make a serious impression on Paul. He needed to take better care of his animals. Maybe the threat of interference from law enforcement would make him fall in line, but somehow she doubted it. He’d seemed unfazed the last couple times she stopped over. The sheriff’s department walked a very fine line when it came to dealing with the Amish. They wanted to respect their right to live separately while making sure laws were followed.

  Becky followed the small path that led through a crop of trees to the Kings’ house. Memories of a life lived so long ago came floating back. Memories she’d rather forget because they made her nostalgic. As a teenager, she used to run along this path to visit her friend Amy. And later when she started dating her friend’s older brother, Paul, back when she thought her life would be like her mem’s and all the female ancestors before her.