by Alison Stone
Becky held out the key fob and pressed the lock button. The chirp of Harrison’s truck echoed somewhere close by. She followed the memory of the sound to the next row over. She pressed the button again and saw the red brake lights flash.
Her heels—which she wasn’t used to—clacked on the cement parking garage. The interior felt claustrophobic, especially to someone like Becky who had grown up on a farm.
A flush of dread she couldn’t explain washed over her. She quickened her steps and checked over her shoulder. No one. But her imagination was full of all sorts of crazy notions.
It’s just the stress.
When she reached the truck, she clicked the unlock button this time and heard a click-click. She reached for the door handle, when footsteps rushed toward her. Before she had a chance to react, a solid body slammed her into the side of the truck. Pain ripped through her hip and ribs.
She opened her mouth to scream, when a hand clamped over her mouth, making it impossible.
“You’re dead,” a deep voice growled.
As terror shot through her veins, the words of the bishop came flooding back, a cautionary warning she had refused to heed.
There is evil in the outside world. We must remain separate.
Becky should have listened. It was time for her to pay for her sins.
EIGHT
“New girlfriend?” Courtney asked after Becky pushed through the glass doors and disappeared across the street to the parking garage.
“Becky’s a deputy in the Quail Hollow Sheriff’s Department,” Harrison said, wishing he and Becky had made it out of this building before Courtney had returned from lunch with her friends. He should have known better than to come here, but Declan Atwal was one of the best lawyers he knew, not to mention they were friends from law school.
Courtney’s gaze drifted to the elevator. “And you brought her to your buddy Declan’s office because she’s in trouble.” She sighed heavily. “I thought you went to Quail Hollow to get your head on straight.” She lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow, obviously suspicious of his motives. “Getting wrapped up in someone else’s drama isn’t going to help. You have to learn how to get out of your own way.”
“Nice to see you, too, Courtney.” Harrison didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone. Their relationship had fractured even before his brother’s death. But it was Seb’s death that had sealed their fate. Harrison clung to the guilt that he had left his brother swinging in the wind. Whereas Courtney refused to live her life with any regrets and couldn’t understand Harrison’s. His brother had made his own choices and suffered the consequences, however dire. This clarity certainly made Courtney a fantastic litigator. She was a bulldog with a bone, never deviating from her mission. She had told him more than once, “You can’t let your feelings get in the way.”
“I’m worried about you. I thought I’d hear from you once you left Buffalo.” The compassion she tried to force into her tone sounded more like condescension. He had been gone nearly a year and she hadn’t bothered to call or text, either. “I expected even if you didn’t want to stay in touch with me, you’d stay in touch with someone here. No one has heard from you.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been busy. Don’t worry about me.” He hated that he sounded petty.
“I do worry about you.” She leaned over and pushed her empty cup into the garbage can. The lid shut with a clatter as she pulled her hand away quickly. “We all do.”
“I appreciate it. Well, nice seeing you.”
He started to turn to leave when she reached out and brushed her fingers gently across the back of his hand. “You don’t have to stay in exile. You could always come back. Practice at the law firm.” Harrison had decided to become a police officer after a stint with the prosecutor’s office. That had been a sticking point from the beginning with Courtney. She had always envisioned two professionals, dual incomes, two point five kids, if they had kids. Perhaps he hadn’t been the one who had been fair. He shouldn’t have changed the course of their lives midstream.
Or he should have been up-front about what he wanted in life from the beginning. He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. He only had the courage to do that after his father’s passing. But he could have never predicted the derailment of his life after his brother’s death.
“Practicing law is not for me.”
“You should give it another try,” she said, exasperated. They had been through this many times before they officially broke up.
“That’s not what I want to do. And you know it.”
“You’re not still blaming yourself for Seb’s death. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have been there for him.” He averted his gaze, not wanting to risk that all-too-familiar look of sympathy he always got. “Listen, I need to go.” Becky had to be wondering where he was. He hadn’t meant to keep her waiting this long.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure you don’t want to keep your girlfriend waiting.” Courtney’s tone was drenched in sarcasm with a hint of jealousy. She always had a way of reading his mind—claimed she knew him better than he knew himself—but today he wasn’t in the mood to engage.
“Nice seeing you, Courtney. You look good.” She always did.
Courtney hesitated a moment, the look in her eyes suggesting she was calculating something, but then thought better of it. “I need to get back to work.” She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. “Don’t be a stranger.”
He nodded and turned toward the exit. Why did he feel more like a stranger here now than he did in Quail Hollow? At least there he didn’t have to pretend he was something he wasn’t.
He pushed through the glass revolving doors, then jogged across the street toward the parking garage. When he opened the door to the stairs, a man dressed in black with a mask over his face burst through the door, narrowly avoiding a collision.
“Hey!” Harrison yelled, before his mind jumped to Becky. He gave a quick glance toward the fleeing man, then decided Becky was his first priority. He started up one flight of stairs before he heard squealing tires. He jumped out of the stairwell onto the second floor and just missed the taillights of his vehicle speeding down the ramp.
Had someone stolen his truck?
Or was Becky driving? Going after the guy dressed in black?
Harrison made a split-second decision. He spun around, reentered the stairwell and bolted down the stairs and burst out onto street level. He hoped that Becky was behind the wheel of his truck and not stuffed into the back under a tarp or—another horrible thought darted through his mind—sprawled unconscious on the hard concrete three stories up.
Pumping his arms, he reached the exit of the parking garage and found Becky yelling at the attendant to lift the tollgate or she was going to plow through it. Harrison flashed his badge and the baffled guy who didn’t make enough money to deal with this kind of stress, entered his little glass building and the tollgate suddenly lifted.
Harrison jumped into the passenger seat and braced himself against the dash. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
* * *
“Did you see a guy dressed in black running away from the parking garage?” Becky leaned forward on the steering wheel, peering down the road, one way, then the other, her eyes wide. Her breath labored.
“Go to the right,” Harrison suggested. “I saw him bolt out of the stairwell and take off toward the park.”
The wheels on the truck squealed on the pavement. Becky gripped the steering wheel tightly, praying she didn’t crash or run into a pedestrian. Flooring it on the country roads was one thing; here in the city was something altogether different.
Frustration rolled over her as they sped past parked cars and office workers returning from lunch. Her gaze darted all around her. “You see him?”
“No.”
She slowed, realizing he could be
anywhere. And it wasn’t likely that he’d be running down the street with his mask on. It was sweltering out and besides, a knit ski mask would be like a neon sign blinking, I’m guilty. I’m guilty.
She pulled over and jammed the gear into Park. “He’s gone.”
“I’ll put a call in. The local cops can investigate. The parking garage has to have cameras.”
Harrison made a call and gave the local police a description.
Becky shifted in her seat, then ran a hand down her long ponytail. “I was walking to the car when that guy jumped me from behind.”
Harrison ran his gaze down the length of her. “Are you okay?”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “He didn’t know he was trying to mug a sheriff’s deputy who had training in self-defense.” She winced at the memory of his nose crunching under a swift blow with the heel of her hand. Direct hit. “A few strategically placed strikes and he took off.” She shook her head in disgust. “I thought about going after him on foot, but I had on these stupid shoes. How do women even get around in these? My feet are killing me.” The flow of words spilled out on a wave of adrenaline.
“You’re okay? Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course.” She tapped the center of the steering wheel with her fist. “I wish I’d caught the guy. He’ll probably wait for the next victim in some dark parking garage. Creep.”
“Becky...” Harrison seemed to be waiting for her full attention.
She turned to him. “What?”
“Did you ever consider that you were the target?”
She furrowed her brow. “Here? In Buffalo? I don’t...” Her shoulders sagged and she plucked at her sweaty blouse. She once again remembered that trip to Niagara Falls as a young Amish girl and how her parents had warned her of the dangers. To always be vigilant. Evil lurked in the outside world. Wasn’t that what this was about?
The ubiquitous evil the Amish talked about.
“No, he couldn’t have been targeting me. Quail Hollow is a good hour’s drive from here.”
“We can’t rule it out. Maybe someone followed us here. If they attacked you in Buffalo, maybe they hoped it couldn’t be traced to the events in Quail Hollow.”
With the adrenaline subsiding, a sadness settled in her heart. “This is getting out of control.” She needed air. She pushed open the truck door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“Where are you going?”
“I want you to drive home. I need to let my nerves settle.”
Harrison climbed out of the passenger seat and met her around back. He took both of her hands in his and forced her to look into his eyes. “You’re fine. You did great fending off your attacker. They’ll think twice before coming after you again if it wasn’t a random event.”
They both knew it wasn’t.
Becky swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks. All my training has paid off.” She just wished it didn’t have to.
* * *
Back at her house, Becky leaned her hip against the kitchen center island and winced. She was a little sore from the attack, but grateful that was all she was. Thank God. She flipped open the lid of the Chinese take-out container. She peeked at the beef and broccoli and drew in a deep breath. “I’ve never had Chinese food. It smells wonderful.”
Harrison unloaded the other little white boxes and plastic containers, taking a moment to bend down and pat Chewie’s head. “You’re not serious.”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “They don’t have a Chinese restaurant in Quail Hollow and I guess the times I’ve been away from here, there were so many other options to try.”
He stared at her for a long minute as if he were looking through her. “I can’t imagine what it was like growing up Amish.”
A piece of broccoli fell off the spoon she was holding and plopped onto the counter. She picked it up and tossed it onto her plate. “Not much to imagine. What you see is what you get.” She sat down on the other side of the island. She grimaced when her hand hit against the counter. She examined her fingers. The heel of her hand was already turning a shade of blue from where she made contact with her attacker.
Harrison sat down next to her with his plate. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I can’t say the same for the guy.”
With his fork dangling over something that looked fried and wonderful, he said, “Tell me exactly what he said.”
Becky wiped her napkin across her mouth and closed her eyes, recalling the feel of his sweaty hand on her mouth. His hot breath whispering across her ear. “You’re dead.”
Harrison pushed his rice around with his fork. “I hate to think someone from Quail Hollow followed us today. What did Sheriff Landry say when you called him?”
“I gave him all the details. He said he’d follow up here, but it was now an issue for the Buffalo Police Department.” She shrugged. Before leaving Buffalo, they had filed a report at the station and had driven home in mostly silence. “I feel like the walls are closing in.”
Harrison set down his plastic fork and reached out and covered her hand. “I’m going to help you get through this.”
She flinched. “I didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m suffering the consequences.” She slid her hand out from under his. “I’m the one without a job.”
“Not for long.”
“You don’t know that,” she said accusingly.
“You’re taking all the right steps. You’ll get your job back.”
“The rules seem arbitrary.” She picked up her fork and poked the branches of the broccoli. “I thought the hardest decision I’d ever have to make was behind me. Leaving the Amish was tough, but at least within their community, everyone knows the rules.” She tilted her head. “A person might not like the rules. But everyone knows them.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe I made a mistake by leaving.” A knot formed in her stomach and she suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.
“Why did you leave?”
She looked up slowly, a bit surprised by his question. Most people wondered, she realized that, but most didn’t ask.
“I felt like I was living a life that wasn’t mine.” She swallowed hard. “From the time I was a little girl, I’d look around the farm, at my mother, and wonder if this was all life had to offer.” Heat suddenly swamped her face and she turned away. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to disparage my mother. She’s a good woman. But I’m not built like her. I never found satisfaction from cooking, cleaning and taking care of a husband.” She shook her head. “Even now it makes me twitchy. I wanted to be on my own. There’s a big world out there.” She cut him a sideways glance. “A big world out there,” she repeated, “but I decided to stay in Quail Hollow.”
“You don’t have to defend your decision to me.” He spoke like he had experienced what it was like to live a life that didn’t feel like your own.
“I feel like I’ve had to defend my decision to everyone—including myself—every day since I left.” She unwrapped a little bag and looked inside to find a small roll. She didn’t want to be rude and lift it to her nose to smell it. “What is this?”
“A vegetable egg roll. Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll finish it.” He smiled and her heart fluttered a bit. She quickly lowered her gaze. When she had left the Amish, she had vowed she’d forever be independent. If she wasn’t willing to be tied down to the Amish way of life—which included marriage—why would she do it outside when she was free?
Her hand fluttered around the hollow of her neck and she wondered if freedom wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe the reasons the Amish had so many rules was to protect the people from themselves. From all the worldly temptations.
She took a bite and set the roll down on her plate. After she swallowed the mouthful, she said, “I thought I’d be happier once I left the Amish.”
Harrison leaned in close.
“Don’t mistake your current mood for how things are always going to be.”
She slowly lifted her eyes to his. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Yeah, you met Courtney today. We were engaged.”
“Oh.” Becky wasn’t sure why she suddenly got a twinge of...was it envy?
“We met in law school. I never felt like I was where I needed to be. I grew up the son of a police officer and always thought that wouldn’t be enough. I worked for the prosecutor’s office for a few years, but after my dad died, I decided to follow in his footsteps.” A corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “Courtney called off our engagement because she wanted to be married to a lawyer. Not a cop. She thought my next stop should have included a fancy corner office.”
Becky studied his face. “Are you happy being in law enforcement?”
“For the most part.”
“For the most part,” she repeated. “Does this have something to do with why you left Buffalo and came here?” Becky asked, feeling a bit like she was being nosy. Her mother would have scolded her to mind her manners, but Becky had always been inquisitive. It was why she was here and not content to marry Paul and live in the Amish way. She had felt the walls closing in on her when Paul expressed his interest. She was grateful—and amazed—that she had been strong enough to leave before their engagement was published.
“It’s a long story.” Harrison moved around a piece of white rice on his plate.
Becky leaned back and held up her hand. “I ask too many questions.”
“I don’t mind, but I don’t want to bore you.”
“I’m willing to listen,” she said. She owed him that much after everything he had done for her since this mess started.