Plain Outsider

by Alison Stone

  “Where are you now?”

  “In the mudroom.” She cleared her voice, not wanting to sound helpless. “I still hear shots, but they’re farther away.”

  “I’ll be right over. Stay inside. Away from the windows. Hold tight.”

  Becky ended the call. Chewie licked her chin. She gave him a cuddle, glad for the company. “You’re the cutest dog ever, but boy, do you stink.” She ran her hand across the back of his sudsy fur.

  Tilting her head up, she could only see the tops of the trees through the window. Pushing off the floor, she stood while Chewie danced around her feet, probably figuring they were headed outside again. “Not yet, buddy. Not yet. Let’s see if we can finish your bath in the meantime.”

  After double-checking the lock on the door, she ran the water in the utility sink next to the washer until it turned warm. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” Becky lifted the squirming dog into the large sink and held his collar while she sprayed him and washed the shampoo out of his fur. She shut off the water and Chewie shook his entire body, showering Becky and her glasses with droplets of water.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. She grabbed a towel from on top of the dryer and rubbed his fur while she had him contained in the sink. She plucked him out of the tub and set him on the floor. “Good as new.”

  Becky cut a glance toward the door and wondered what was taking Harrison so long.

  * * *

  Harrison grabbed his keys from the counter and ran out the door of the nondescript one-story house he rented on the edge of town. The real estate agent said it was within walking distance to schools and when she realized he was single, suggested it was a perfect fixer-upper. He wasn’t in the market for either. He just needed a place to lay his head between shifts at work and this place was good enough.

  Harrison sped to Becky’s house. Once he arrived, he did a quick jog around the perimeter—all appeared secure—when he heard shots in the distance. It sounded like they were coming from the south. Running toward his truck, he hopped in and called Becky. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, are you here?”

  “I am. But hold tight. I’m going to check the property behind yours. I heard shots in that direction.”

  Becky assured him she was fine, so he raced off to the quiet country road that ran parallel to her road. He slowed and pressed the button on the arm of his door. The automatic window whirred down. Crickets and birds chirping filled the gaps between the silence. Clouds of insects came to life as the sun settled on the horizon. He cruised slowly, searching the fields for any signs of people or cars.

  A shot rang out.

  His heart jackhammered as he pressed the accelerator. About a quarter mile up, he found some young men in a field. The ones who noticed him pull up in his personal vehicle seemed disinterested, which thrilled Harrison because that meant he probably wouldn’t have to give chase. He wasn’t in the mood. His hand brushed his personal weapon he kept in a holster under his shirt as he climbed out of the vehicle.

  Then, on second thought, he pulled the gun out and held it down by his thigh. He’d want to react quickly if things went south. Someone obviously had a gun. His sneakers sank into the soft soil as he strode across the field toward the men. The earthy smell reached his nose, a mix of rich soil and dried vegetation.

  As he got closer, he heard laughing. Males. Late teens. Early twenties. One was holding a rifle at his shoulder aiming it at a row of bottles set up on an old, run-down Amish buggy.

  “Put the gun down!” Harrison called, planting his feet, ready to respond if need be, but man, he hoped he didn’t have to. As far as he could tell, these good ol’ boys were just having target practice.

  The kid with the gun turned, still holding the gun up on his shoulder.

  “Lower your weapon!” Harrison started to lift his.

  The kid quickly laid the rifle down on the grass and held up his hands. “Easy man. We’re just shooting some bottles.”

  Another kid, this one empty-handed, took a step back; a worried expression flickered across his face. “Who are you?”

  “Deputy James.” He scanned the faces of the four young men standing in front of him. It appeared that they only had one weapon and it was on the ground. “Any weapons besides that one?”

  “No,” one of the guys mumbled.

  “Do any of you own this property?”

  “No, we’re just using it for target practice. No one cares,” a second answered, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

  “Why here?” The proximity to Becky’s place unnerved him.

  The same young man shrugged. “Someone suggested it. It’s just some field. We ain’t hurting anybody.”

  Harrison pulled out his wallet and quickly displayed his identification before stuffing it back into his pocket. “I had a report of shots fired.” Better leave it vague. He didn’t want one of these guys harassing Becky. If they already hadn’t. “Are all you guys good shots?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” One of the teens seemed to take great offense, as if Harrison had questioned his right to carry a man-card.

  “Anyone decide to take a few shots out in the woods? Maybe have a shot get away from you?”

  Another guy came forward, ready to complain when Harrison held up his hand. “Let me see your identification.”

  “What the...?” But they all got out their wallets and Harrison took a snapshot of all their licenses. It wasn’t exactly protocol, but since Harrison was off duty and no one complained, he figured he’d get away with it.

  Harrison pointed at the teen who had the gun when he arrived. “You have a permit?”

  “Yeah.” Another young man pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to him.

  “Okay.” Harrison kept an eye on the guy with the rifle until he had it safely packed away. As they turned to leave, Harrison added, “I don’t want you guys using this land for target practice anymore.” He lifted his phone to suggest he had their names and addresses if he wanted to cause them trouble.

  He waited until they piled into an older model pickup truck, two guys hopping in the back. Then he turned toward the woods, trying to determine if he could see Becky’s house from here. The dried leaves crunched under his muddy sneakers as he made his way through the trees. Something caught his attention in his peripheral vision. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He slowed his pace. There shouldn’t be anyone there, right? He had already found the source of gunshots.

  Something felt off. Or maybe it had just been a long day. He swatted at a cloud of tiny insects swirling around his sweaty head. He squinted into the dense woods as the evening light faded.

  Nothing.

  Maybe it was deer. A fox. Anything could be out here.

  He kept trudging forward, pushing aside sharp branches and stepping over fallen trees, until he reached what he suspected was Becky’s house. It wasn’t until he got around the front that he knew for sure. Before he had a chance to knock, an incessant barking sounded on the other side of the door.

  A curtain fluttered at the picture window overlooking the porch. A second later he heard the locks on the front door. Becky’s concerned face appeared in the crack before she pulled the door open wide. Chewie ran out and jumped on his leg. He crouched down and petted the dog. “Nice guard dog, here.”

  * * *

  “If I hadn’t bent over to grab this little guy, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.” The memory of the bullet zinging past her head and striking the tree sent renewed terror skittering down her spine. God had been watching over her today more than once, that was for sure.

  Becky straightened and stepped back into the entryway, studying her front yard and the road beyond that. She really was isolated out here, but she loved her house. Loved her independence.

  She just didn’t love feeling vulnerable.

 
“Come on in,” she said to Harrison.

  He paused and looked down. She followed his gaze to his mud-caked shoes. He kicked them off before stepping inside.

  “Did you find anyone?” she asked, trying to read the serious expression on his handsome face. A five-o’-clock shadow darkened his jaw, making her wonder what he’d look like with a full beard, not that she was interested in a man with a beard. She could have stayed Amish for that.

  “I discovered some guys conducting target practice in the fields on the other side of the woods behind your house.”

  “That explains the muddy shoes.” She sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to hers.

  Chewie hopped up on the couch, did a little circle and settled in next to her. She laughed and dragged a hand down his almost dry fur. “That wasn’t meant for you. But good thing you’re cute. And clean.” Then to Harrison, “I think there’s still room on the couch if you don’t mind sitting on the other side of Chewie.”

  “Don’t mind at all.” When he sat, Chewie gave Harrison a quick, almost possessive glance, then settled his head down on his new master’s thigh.

  “Yeah, I cut through the woods from that field to your yard.” He ruffled the dog’s fur.

  “What are you thinking? Someone was a bad shot?”

  “I’m not sure what to think. I’ll want to go out and see where the bullet hit the tree. See what it looks like. Maybe we can determine the make and model of gun. But first, I have something to show you.” He leaned forward and pulled the cell phone out of his back pocket. “I asked them all for identification.”

  “They gave it to you? Even though you weren’t in uniform?”

  “I’m convincing that way.” A small smile quirked the corners of his mouth. His imposing six-foot-plus frame probably had that effect on a lot of people. As a petite woman deputy, she had to work at commanding authority. Her meek upbringing in the Amish community did nothing to aid her there, either. She was proud of how assertive she had become, but like anything, she was a work in progress.

  Harrison clicked a few buttons on his smartphone and held it out to her. “Take a look at their photos on their licenses. Take note of their names.”

  She took the phone from his hands. Their fingers brushed in the exchange and she caught his concerned gaze. She stared at the screen and didn’t recognize the first guy, swiped her finger across the screen and looked at the next. Until she had scrolled through all four images.

  “Do you recognize any of them?”

  She twisted her lips and studied the screen. “Number one looks a little familiar. I probably saw him around town. Tyler Flint.” She said the name out loud, as if it might jog her memory. She adjusted the screen to make the image bigger. Neh. She swiped to the next two photos. Jeremy and Todd weren’t familiar, either.

  Then she swiped to the last photo and studied it for a bit longer. “Lucas Handler looks a little crazed, but I wouldn’t want anyone judging me by my driver’s license photo. His name’s not ringing any bells. None of them are.” She handed him his phone. “What did they have to say?”

  “They seemed annoyed that I was breaking up their fun.”

  “What’s your sense? Do you believe it was an accident?” Chewie was perfectly content on the couch cushion between them, but Becky pulled the puppy into her lap and stroked the length of him, needing the distraction. How many near misses could she endure in one day and still delude herself by claiming it was “just an accident”?

  Harrison sighed heavily. Not exactly encouraging. He reached over and rubbed Chewie’s head playfully. “He cleans up nice.”

  “Yeah. I finished his bath in the sink in the mudroom after I realized it wasn’t safe to go outside.” She buried her nose in his fur and inhaled his clean scent. “He’s much better.” She picked up a paw and inspected it. “I think he’ll be fine. I’ll feel better once the vet stops over, though.”

  “He seems at home here.”

  Chewie’s presence calmed her nerves. “I promised Mag she could have him if my parents agreed.”

  “Are you regularly in touch with your family?”

  “How much do you know about the Amish?”

  “Not much, but I’m learning.” He straightened and held up his hands, perhaps thinking he had said too much. “I don’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She leaned back into the cushions of the couch and continued to stroke the dog’s fur. It felt good to open up to someone. “I think the Amish invented tough love.” She laughed quietly, but knew it didn’t sound as breezy as she had intended. She always felt a little skittish when people asked about her past. Perhaps she felt like they were judging her.

  Perhaps she was the harshest judge of all.

  She drew in a deep breath and continued. “If I had been baptized, they would have shunned me. Basically ignored me and kept me separate until I realized the error of my ways.”

  “But you were never baptized?”

  “No, not in the Amish faith, so technically, I’m not being shunned, but they do like to keep me at arm’s length. They don’t want me to be a bad influence on my sister.” She shook her head. “I also have three brothers. Two are already married and Abram still lives at home, but apparently, they’re mostly worried about Mag.”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but wouldn’t it be easier for you to leave Quail Hollow? Make a fresh start somewhere else?” he asked. The spark of curiosity in his warm brown eyes touched her. He sounded like he was a man who had perhaps run away from something himself.

  “I don’t want to abandon my sister. That’s why she has my phone number to call me if she ever needs anything. My dad has a phone in the barn for his woodworking business. He makes end tables and such to supplement my family’s income.”

  To say “my family” seemed disingenuous. Her father had turned his back on her the minute he had learned she had jumped the fence. Despite the heartache, she had made the right decision. She loved and respected her Amish family and neighbors, but she felt a calling beyond the life she would have been allowed to live as an Amish woman.

  God had called her to another life.

  Becky continued to run her hand down the length of the dog, feeling like she had said too much. Harrison didn’t need to hear all the details of her life. Simply put, she had left the Amish, but she hadn’t allowed herself to leave Quail Hollow or her sister behind.

  “Is that why you came to Quail Hollow?” she asked, needing to change the subject. “To get a fresh start?”

  “Something like that,” he said, his answer curt. Now she understood why he was reluctant to ask her questions. He hadn’t wanted her to do the same.

  “I guess I’m the one who’s prying,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  When he smiled his entire face transformed. She almost didn’t recognize him as the same serious man whom she saw around the station. “You’re not prying. Just not much of a story to tell.”

  Somehow she doubted that, but let it drop.

  Harrison pushed to his feet. “I want to take a closer look out back.”

  Together they went outside and found the bullet in the tree. He dug the slug out of the trunk with a pocketknife. Palming the bullet, he followed her to the back porch. The concerned look on his face sent prickles of unease washing over her skin.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He gently took her by the arm and led her into the house and locked the mudroom door behind them.

  Harrison pulled his gun out and set it on the kitchen island. “I’m not going to insult you and suggest you can’t take care of yourself, but I’d feel better if you had a gun and I know you had to turn yours in when you were suspended. And you never answered me about having a personal weapon, so I’m assuming you don’t...”

  Her gaze drifted to the weapon then back to his face. He seemed to be looki
ng right into her soul.

  Becky swallowed hard. “You don’t think the shot out back was an accident?”

  He placed the bullet on the counter. “This didn’t come from a rifle.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The young men I talked to claimed they had only been shooting a rifle. If they had another gun, they didn’t want me to see it.”

  Becky gripped the counter, feeling unsteady. Slashing tires as a warning was one thing, but firing a weapon in her direction? “Do you think they meant to scare me or kill me?” Her voice broke over the last two words.

  “As far as I’m concerned, anyone who fires a weapon toward another human being has got to understand the risks.”

  “What do I do now?” Her breath came out shaky. “It all seems so hopeless.”

  “We need to take this information to the sheriff so the department can start an official investigation.”

  “What if this causes more problems for me?” Becky simply wanted to get her job back. Not be the focus of yet another investigation.

  Harrison took a step closer to her. “You’re not responsible for this. You can’t blame yourself. You’ve done whatever you’ve needed to do.” The intensity and concern in his voice unnerved her, almost as if it was personal to him.

  “If I had kept my mouth shut...” She broke eye contact and studied the floor.

  “You did the right thing. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  SIX

  A short time later Harrison crossed Becky’s dark front yard and reached out to shake Sheriff Landry’s hand. “Thanks for coming out, Sheriff.”

  “Of course.” Landry adjusted his belt on his blue jeans. Harrison’s call had caught his boss when he was off duty, probably at home watching TV with his wife and two young children, judging by the family portrait on his credenza behind his desk. Some people actually had lives outside of work.

  “Come in. Becky’s inside.” Harrison turned and led the sheriff into the house. Becky was standing inside the doorway, holding Chewie.