Plain Outsider

by Alison Stone

  “Hello, Sheriff,” she said, quietly. If her bloodshot eyes were any indication, all the recent events were wearing on the young deputy. “Let’s talk at the island in the kitchen.” She quickly met Harrison’s gaze. They had left the bullet on the counter, evidence that the young men weren’t telling the complete truth.

  The three law-enforcement officers settled in around the island. Harrison explained the situation to his boss, who seemed taken aback. “You mean to tell me someone tried to shoot you?” His question sounded pointed, accusatory, almost, and Harrison wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

  “It seems that way, sir. If I hadn’t bent down to pick up the dog, I’d hate to imagine...” Becky leaned over and set the dog down on the floor, perhaps to allow herself a moment to pull herself together.

  The sheriff leaned back on his stool as far as he could without falling off and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why didn’t you call the sheriff’s department immediately?”

  Becky’s face grew flushed and she started to stammer before she paused and composed herself. “I had Deputy Harrison’s number. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it if it turned out to be nothing.”

  The sheriff’s gaze drifted to Harrison and then back to Becky. Was he trying to figure out their relationship? “I’m glad you reached out to me now.”

  Becky trailed a finger along the edge of the counter. Feeling the need to rescue her, Harrison spoke up. “I got identification from each of the men doing target practice.”

  The sheriff rubbed his jaw slowly, probably trying to determine if Harrison had followed procedure, but at this exact moment, Harrison didn’t care. He placed his phone on the table and opened the photo app. He slowly scrolled through the photos, watching the sheriff’s face. If he knew any of the young men, he wasn’t letting on.

  The sheriff scratched the side of his head roughly. “Send those photos to my email address. We’ll start an official investigation.” He planted his palms on the island and stood.

  “Great,” Harrison said, standing to join his boss.

  “When I ran for sheriff, I campaigned on a platform of transparency.” He seemed to puff out his chest. “I can’t have my deputies running off on their own.”

  “I only called Harrison because I could trust him,” Becky said. Her posture slumped and she blinked slowly as if realizing the implication of what she had said. Harrison wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, reassure her, but he knew now was not the time or place.

  The sheriff slowly turned to look at her. “Are you saying you don’t trust the other deputies? Has anyone given you reason not to trust them?”

  “I think Becky’s afraid of backlash after testifying against Deputy Reich,” Harrison said. “There’s definitely been a coolness within the department toward her.”

  Becky held up her hand. “I can speak for myself.” Harrison detected a hint of a tremble in her voice.

  “Is that true?” The sheriff stared at her. “You think one of my deputies is out to get you?”

  “I do feel like some of the officers wish I had kept my mouth shut. That’s all.” She fisted her hands and placed them in her lap. “I have a hard time believing one of them would hurt me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” The sheriff sat back down and rested his elbow on the island, his posture more relaxed. “Let me assure you that anyone who harasses you will be dealt with severely.” Sheriff Landry gave her a stiff smile showing all his teeth, reminiscent of his big face plastered on the billboard during the election. “I know this is hard for you, but you have to trust that the department will conduct a thorough investigation regarding the video.”

  “How long will it take?” Becky asked. “I’m eager to return to my job.”

  “I know you are,” the sheriff said. “But there’s more than one investigation to be done. I have to make sure we do this right.”

  “I didn’t strike Elijah Lapp. I used the baton to break up the fight. To pull the two men apart.”

  The sheriff seemed to consider this for a moment. “Then our investigation will reveal that.” He stared at her pointedly. “We have to allow the investigation to run its course. I know it’s hard, but we have to do everything aboveboard. This way we can put this to bed once and for all.”

  Harrison recognized himself in the sheriff. Prior to his brother’s death, he had been about rules, procedures and everything being black-and-white. But sometimes a strict adherence to rules meant compassion was lost. Meanwhile, real lives were being affected. Possibly ruined.

  “Do you understand, Deputy?” the sheriff asked Becky, a hint of condescension in his tone.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” The sheriff stood and adjusted his belt.

  Harrison walked him to the door. “I can talk to the young men tomorrow.” He wanted to see for himself why they didn’t tell him about a second gun.

  The sheriff slowed at the door and turned around. “I think it would be best if I have one of my more seasoned detectives follow up with that.”

  Harrison’s head jerked back and he opened his mouth to protest when the sheriff held up his hand. “In an effort to be transparent—” there was that stupid word again “—I think it’s important that someone not connected to the case conduct the interviews.”

  “What are you talking about?” Harrison glanced over his shoulder to make sure Becky was out of earshot. He was ready to plead his case.

  “Trust me on this.” The sheriff opened the door and left, leaving Harrison baffled.

  “I suppose that went as well as expected.” Harrison turned around. Becky stood in the doorway to the kitchen with Chewie in her arms. She stroked his back methodically.

  “I suppose.” Harrison replayed the conversation in his head. Something about this didn’t feel right. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with the sheriff that an official investigation should be conducted, he just hated being squeezed out of it.

  “You need a lawyer.” Sheriff Landry was going to protect his department no matter the cost. Becky had to look out for her own interests. If the sheriff was going to keep Harrison from helping Becky in an official capacity, he’d do whatever he could on a personal level.

  “I don’t know. Doesn’t that make me look guilty?” She ran a hand down her long blond ponytail.

  “You need to protect yourself.”

  “How does that work? I grew up Amish. We didn’t use lawyers.”

  “You’ve told me before that the Amish don’t care for law enforcement, either. Look at you now.” He crossed the room and brushed his knuckles across the back of her arm, trying to encourage her. Reminding her that she was in a whole new world and had to play by new rules.

  “How would I go about finding a lawyer?”

  “I have a friend in Buffalo. I’d be happy to take you. He’ll make sure your interests are protected. He’ll fight for your job.”

  “Do you really think this is necessary?” After an extremely long day, Becky’s skin looked ashen under the kitchen lighting.

  “I have off the day after tomorrow. I’ll see if I can get you an appointment then.” Harrison tilted his head and forced her to meet his gaze. “I promise I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

  “Why would you do this for me?” Becky asked quietly, evidently still unsure. Her shoulders sagged in apparent defeat. Chewie lifted his head and licked her chin as if sensing she needed a little moral support.

  Harrison needed for her to know this was far from over. That she had rights. That everything would work out. That she wasn’t alone. A sadness whispered through him because he hadn’t made this same show of support for his brother.

  “I have my reasons,” he said. “I hope you’ll let me help you.”

  * * *

  While sitting in the driver’s seat, Becky flipped down the visor and stared i
n the mirror. She ran her finger along the darkened flesh under her eyes. “Ugh...” Another sleepless night, but at least she had her car back. The garage had returned it to her this morning with four new tires and detailing. Gone was the ominous warning in Pennsylvania Dutch to go away that had been scrawled on her back window.

  That part of the vandalism puzzled her. Had a clever deputy known just enough Pennsylvania Dutch to threaten her and remind her of her place in society in one fell swoop? Or had someone from the Amish community really been harassing her? Friends of Elijah Lapp certainly had motive if they were following the press or the rumor mill, but she hated to think her Amish neighbors had run this far outside the law. Outside the Ordnung, the rules that the Amish district strictly followed.

  Becky shoved the thought aside and jammed the key into the ignition and fired up the engine. She adjusted the AC to high and stuck out her lower lip and blew the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail from her face. Another sweltering day.

  Fearing she’d go crazy if she spent another day cooped up in her house, Becky put the car in Reverse and backed out of the driveway. The vet had come to the house this morning and given Chewie some medication for the sores on his skin, but other than that, she said he was healthy. Now Becky’s new companion was curled up on his cushy bed in the mudroom while she ran some errands. Errands that couldn’t wait another day, especially if Harrison insisted she hire a lawyer.

  Becky was a smart woman. She had made it this far in life on her own; she could certainly find a quicker way other than lawyers and lawsuits to put this mess behind her. She didn’t do anything wrong and she wanted her job back. She couldn’t shake the idea that lawyers were only for the guilty.

  Mustering all the confidence she had, she drove to the farm near the sight of the brutal beating. She purposely waited until after the midday meal. If there was even a spark of hope that her old friend, Amy Miller, would talk to her, it would be if her husband John was out in the field.

  Becky parked next to a cornfield, her car hidden from the house and the men working in the fields. The heat from the pavement blasted her cheeks. She plucked at her T-shirt, suddenly feeling underdressed. Nothing could make a former Amish woman more self-aware than showing up at an Amish home dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Why hadn’t she thought this through? Probably because as soon as the vet left, Becky wanted to leave, too. Before she lost her nerve.

  As the gravel crunched under her sneakers, words like humble and modest from scripture pinged around her brain. Just because she had chosen to leave the Amish didn’t mean she had chosen to disregard all of their teachings. She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it down over the waistband of her jeans. She admired the Amish for their simple lives and their love of God; however, their way wasn’t the only way to God. She wished their teachings allowed them to see that.

  Becky pushed the swirling thoughts aside. Thoughts that always crowded in on her when she dealt directly with her Amish neighbors. Sometimes she did wonder if moving away from Quail Hollow would be easier than constantly confronting her past.

  Taking a deep breath, she climbed the steps to the porch, and the slats creaked under her weight. The smell of something delicious wafted out through the open window. It made her nostalgic for home. Squaring her shoulders, she turned back toward the road and focused on why she was here: to find a witness to Elijah Lapp’s beating. Someone to clear her name. She should have done this right away, but the sheriff had advised her against it.

  From the porch, she searched the road. Other than a fifty-foot clearing in front of the house, the scene of the altercation was obscured by the crops. Any witness would have had to walk to the end of the driveway. And from what she remembered from the chaotic scene, several people had. Tenting her hand over her eyes, she leaned back and stared up at the well-kept house, at the second-floor window. Her heart jackhammered when she saw an Amish woman staring down at her.

  Amy.

  Becky forced a smile and lifted her hand in a friendly greeting. She and Amy had grown up together and had been good friends until Becky decided to leave. Whereas Amy had followed the path set out for a young Amish woman: baptism, marriage and children.

  Amy disappeared from the upstairs window and Becky waited, wondering if her former friend was going to come to the door. Becky scanned the landscape, holding her breath that John wouldn’t appear and chase her away before she had a chance to talk to his wife.

  Becky lifted her hand to knock, when the door flew open. Amy averted her gaze as if looking straight at Becky would somehow be breaking the rules.

  “Hi, Amy.”

  Amy finally met Becky’s gaze. “Gut afternoon. May I help you?” Becky should have been used to the stiffness and formality when it came to dealing with the Amish now that she was in law enforcement, but she and Amy had been the best of friends. Laughed together. Shared secrets together.

  Perhaps Becky had made a mistake by not sharing the biggest secret of all. But that would have been an unfair burden to place on a friend. Neither Amy nor Mary, her two dearest friends, knew the plans Becky held in her heart.

  Becky clasped her hands together, purposely trying to act meek, the opposite of what she had been trying to do since she left the Amish. She wanted her friend to see the girl she used to be, but jeans and a T-shirt certainly didn’t help.

  “Nice to see you,” Becky said. “Can we talk?”

  Amy’s hesitant gaze drifted to the field. “I’m not sure what we have to talk about.” Her words came out hard-edged.

  “How is Elijah?” The young Amish man beaten at the side of the road was her husband’s kin. Reports suggest he bailed out of his car at this location in hopes of taking refuge at his cousin’s farm.

  “He’s recovering at home.” Her tone suggested the unspoken words, “no thanks to you.”

  Becky wanted to ask if he talked about the incident, but she wanted to ease her way into the topic. And part of her was afraid of what he might have said.

  “I was wondering if you could help me.”

  A crease of concern lined Amy’s forehead below her white bonnet. “I don’t see how I can.”

  “Were you home the afternoon Elijah was hurt?” It sounded more benign this way. Passive, as if there was no way she could have had an active hand in his injuries.

  “Yah, I was home.” Amy’s eyes clouded over with an emotion Becky couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  “Did you see anything?” Becky twisted her clasped hands and her stomach knotted.

  “Neh, I was settling the baby.”

  Shame heated Becky’s cheeks. In another lifetime, she would have made a quilt for her friend’s baby or at the very least, brought over food for the family. “Congratulations. I heard. A baby girl.”

  Amy nodded and a smile lit her face like it used to when they were girls and giggling over a shared story and lunch. “She looks just like John.” She shook her head, a twinkle brightening her eyes. “Poor kid.” But she didn’t mean it. She was pleased that the child resembled her husband.

  “I’m sure she’s beautiful. Maybe I can see her sometime...” Becky left the question hanging, knowing that as long as she was an outsider and law enforcement, she wouldn’t be welcomed into her friend’s home. Not as a cherished friend. She cleared her throat, getting back to the topic at hand. “Did John see anything?”

  A mask descended and Amy seemed to bristle. “Perhaps you should wait until he comes in from the field. You can talk to him yourself. Other people from the sheriff’s department have been here, you know.” She plucked at the folds of her skirt. “We want life to go back to the way it was, yah.”

  “The sheriff’s department is trying to make sure justice is done.” Becky’s mind drifted to the chaotic events of that fateful afternoon. “I remember a lot of people watching. Did you know who was here?”

  “Neh, the baby keeps me busy.”
<
br />   Was she hiding something?

  “A video surfaced from that day and I was trying to figure out who took it.”

  Amy pinched her lips and shook her head again. “You’re best to look for someone from your world. It’s doubtful the Amish would be taking videos. You know that.”

  Becky also knew that plenty of Amish, especially the youngie, bent the rules during their running around time. But she didn’t want to press her friend. Bowing her head, she finally said, “I’m desperate. I need help. The sheriff’s department thinks I hurt Elijah and I need to find witnesses to prove that I didn’t. Otherwise, I could lose my job.”

  Amy’s face brightened. “If you lost your job, would you come back?”

  “Come back?”

  “To the Amish. You could confess your sins to the bishop. I’m sure they’d welcome you back as long as you confessed.” The hopefulness in her friend’s tone broke Becky’s heart. She missed her friends. But not enough to return. She wasn’t sorry for leaving, so confessing in front of the Amish community, asking for forgiveness, would be a greater sin.

  Becky gritted her teeth and stepped back. The wood slat on the porch let out a loud groan. She hadn’t come here to confess. She wasn’t interested in returning to the way of life she had run away from, but she needed to be careful not to offend her friend.

  She needed friends, not that Amy would count herself among them.

  “Thank you for thinking of me, Amy, but I’m happy with my life.” Mostly. Becky threaded her fingers and finally worked up the nerve to ask the question she most feared the answer to. “Does Elijah remember what happened?”

  Amy shook her head tightly. “I have not asked him.” She lifted her head with a steely gaze. “We want to move forward.”

  Becky opened her mouth to say something and a baby cried from somewhere in the house.

  “I have to go.”

  “Okay...but if you hear anything, can you let me know?”

  Amy stood with her mouth pressed into a grim line before saying, “To be in the world, but not of this world. You don’t need to be trapped by the evils of the world.” She reached for the door handle. “Perhaps you should think about returning to us. Our hearts are open to forgiveness.”