by Alison Stone
“Well, the short version is that after I left the prosecutor’s office, I became a police officer. I had a strong sense of right and wrong while convicting the bad guys. Now I had a chance to work as a police officer, taking criminals off the street.” He lowered his voice in frustration. “I wanted to get in there, get my hands dirty.”
“Sounds admirable.”
“It can be. But sometimes it takes more than determination. It takes compassion.”
Becky scrunched up her nose. “For the bad guys?”
Harrison put down his fork and rubbed his temples as if something pained him. “Sometimes someone we think is the bad guy just doesn’t see any other way out.”
* * *
Harrison glanced up even though he wasn’t sure he could look Becky in the eye. She seemed too trusting.
“What happened?” She reached over and placed her hand on his forearm.
“Shortly after I joined the police force, my mom got sick. She told me to keep an eye on my little brother, Seb. He was a rookie officer.” Even now referring to his brother in the past tense was like a punch to the gut.
Becky brushed her thumb back and forth in a soothing gesture across his arm. He wondered if she even realized she was doing it. He had noticed her doing the same thing when she held Chewie.
Speaking of which...
Harrison glanced around to find the dog curled up, sleeping on his bed in the corner of the kitchen. A part of him hoped the dog would jump up and save him from spilling his guts. He didn’t want Becky to start looking at him like his friends did back in Buffalo.
Poor Harrison. His brother overdosed. He found him. Did you know that? It must have been awful. Needle still in his arm.
He stared off into the distance and ran his palms up and down the thighs of his pants, trying to shake that last horrific image of his brother. Apparently sensing his distress, Becky said, “You don’t have to talk about it. Not if you don’t want to.”
He found himself drawn to her compassion. “I do.” He hadn’t realized that until he said it out loud. Even though he had only grown to know her over the past few days, he wanted to share this part of his life with her. He felt a certain connection to her.
He no longer felt alone.
“My brother Sebastian got involved with illegal drugs after he got hurt on the job. A back injury led to painkillers led to heroin use.”
To her credit, Becky kept her expression even. He had learned to anticipate judgment, as if a person who used drugs didn’t deserve compassion.
He had been one of those people.
“When I discovered his drug use, I employed tough love. Told him to knock it off. Told him he was bringing shame to the family name.”
“I’m sorry,” Becky whispered, still offering a comforting touch to his arm.
“Instead of pushing him away, I should have been there for him.”
“I’m sure you did your best.”
“But I didn’t. He died less than a week after returning to work. He had made it through rehab. He had been doing well. But I still acted cool toward him. I wanted to let him know he hadn’t been forgiven. He had to work for it. That I had zero tolerance for his drug use.” He ran a hand across his mouth. “Who did I think I was? I’m not perfect.” He shook his head. “Maybe if he knew I was in his corner...”
“You didn’t know...” Her voice trailed off.
“I should have known.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I was the one who found him in the bathroom of our childhood home.” He plowed a hand through his hair and he suddenly felt sick, just as he had done every time he remembered the pallid color of his brother’s skin.
Becky didn’t say anything; she just looked at him with that pained expression all his friends back in Buffalo gave him.
“I found a journal he kept in rehab. There were pages and pages about me and stuff we did as kids growing up and how he missed me and wished I would support him more.”
Harrison sniffed and fought to hold the rest of his emotions at bay. “Seb made a huge mistake getting involved with drugs, but I didn’t do anything to help him.”
Becky cleared her throat softly. “We all do the best we can. You didn’t know how this would end.”
“I should have. As a police officer, I’ve seen it enough. But I was more worried about appearances. How his drug use reflected poorly on me. On our family. I was terrified of enabling. Like, if I relented, he’d think I was okay with it.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Biggest mistake of my life and unfortunately, there’s no redo on this.”
“You need to forgive yourself.”
Harrison pushed the stool away from the kitchen island and carried his paper plate to the garbage can. He stepped on the foot pedal and the lid snapped open. He tossed his plate in, then turned back to her. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. I can’t even bear to live in the house where he died. To run into our mutual friends. To see his old locker at the police station downtown.” He rubbed his jaw. “I thought moving here would get me out of my head. But clearly it hasn’t.”
Becky set down her fork and stood. She approached him cautiously as if he might spook. He imagined how he looked standing there. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. Perhaps you need to find faith to find peace.”
He bit back a laugh, something that came automatically when people suggested things like prayer, faith—what did that mean anyway? “Faith? Where was God when Seb shot up on the bathroom floor?” He clenched his jaw to stop from spilling out all the arguments for why faith was not going to help anyone. Yet, as strongly as he felt, he didn’t want to offend this sweet woman who was only trying to help.
“You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly as he stepped around her. “How did you keep your faith after everything you’ve gone through? I mean, how can you not be resentful that your so-called God-fearing parents ignore you? What kind of hypocrisy is that?”
Becky radiated a calmness he didn’t understand. “My parents are good people. They think that by giving me the cold shoulder, I will return to the Amish way. It is meant to be redemptive. They want me to come back into the fold.” Becky tilted her head, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Just like you did what you thought you had to do for your brother.”
Harrison groaned at the comparison.
“You could have never anticipated the outcome,” Becky continued. “You thought Seb would make the right decision and give up drugs.”
“I should have anticipated a relapse.” Harrison wasn’t ready to acquiesce to her argument.
Becky shook her head. “I’m not trying to compare drug use with running away from the Amish, but one thing we have in common are family issues. My family loves me and you loved your brother.”
“I did.”
“We all do the best we know how.” She snapped closed the lid on a takeout container. “If you ever want to take me up on going to church, you know where to find me. I find it keeps me centered when everything around me is falling apart. I may have left the Amish, but my Christian faith is strongly intact.”
Harrison slid the takeout container from her hand and leaned down and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Becky jerked back in surprise. Before she had a chance to respond, he said, “Thanks for being a friend. I haven’t had many since moving to Quail Hollow.”
“Anytime,” she said breezily, clearly uncomfortable. He hated that he had made her feel that way. “Um, do you think you’ll return to Buffalo?”
“I still own my parents’ house. I suppose I could find another police job either in Buffalo or the surrounding communities.” He shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought, but I also never thought Quail Hollow would be long-term. I needed to get away.”
“I know that feeling.” She took a step back and spun around and returned to the task of closing containers and sn
apping on lids to the Chinese takeout. “You know, it’s me who should thank you. Without your introducing me to your lawyer friend and—” she lifted a container “—Chinese food, my life would be far drearier.” She opened the fridge and started stuffing containers inside.
Becky’s movements suddenly seemed manic as if she was trying to be cheery. It made Harrison wonder what he had said. Perhaps he had shared too much.
NINE
The next day, Becky sat on the couch with Chewie curled up by her side. She had the blinds drawn against the gorgeous sunny day. It was easier to pretend her life hadn’t gone off in a ditch this way. She didn’t have many friends as it was and certainly the ones she had in the sheriff’s department thought she was toxic. Even Anne, her closest friend and assistant to the sheriff, hadn’t returned her phone calls.
Her memories drifted back to the conversation she and Harrison shared last night over Chinese food. In a way, they were kindred spirits. Both struggling with life’s circumstances and family issues. The one difference: Harrison was truly alone. All his family had since passed. Hers was on the other side of town, choosing to pretend she didn’t exist.
All except Mag.
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
TV remote in one hand, she flipped through the stations, getting tired of all the shows she didn’t feel like watching.
After recent events, this was the only way she felt safe, cocooned in her house. Harrison had called her this morning to check in on her and she feigned cheeriness. She rambled off a long list of things she planned to do around the house that she never had time to do when she was working full-time. Yet, here she sat on the couch feeling too blah to move. She didn’t want him to feel like he had to come by to check on her. He had already done too much. She shouldn’t be depending on him. And she didn’t want to be his “get over his guilt” project because he hadn’t been there for his brother.
That’s harsh. The man’s genuinely concerned about you.
She turned up the sound on some all-hours news station to drown out the constant chatter in her head. Eventually, she began to doze. Her dreams were wild and disjointed. Stress did that.
Something startled her out of a dream—she might have been in pursuit of a speeding car or maybe she had been walking across a muddy field sinking up to her knees. Sitting up slowly and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she tuned in to a quiet knock on the door. Chewie, who had apparently also been sleeping next to her on the couch, lifted his head, looked at her, then looked at the door, then put his head back down. She couldn’t help but laugh and patted him playfully on the head. “Some guard dog you’d make.”
She squinted at the clock on the cable box and realized it was too early to be Harrison, unless he decided to stop by during his shift. Untucking her legs from under the blanket, she stood and shook out her right foot that had fallen asleep. Running a hand through her hair, she walked slowly toward the front window—Chewie in tow—and was surprised to find a horse and buggy in her yard. Chewie hopped up and rested his paws on the low windowsill and growled at the horse. “Now you jump into action,” she joked, even though she wasn’t in a jovial mood.
“This can’t be good,” she muttered. Becky paused at the mirror in her front hallway and glanced at herself. Dressed in sweats and a T-shirt with a messy bun, she had most definitely seen better days. She didn’t want word swirling around the Amish community that she was falling apart. The bishop would probably use her as a cautionary tale. “Nothing good happens when you succumb to worldly pressures.”
A familiar shame washed over her. Be humble. Don’t worry about what others think of you.
A soft knock sounded again and Becky had to make a quick decision. Ignore the door or open it to see who was here.
Curiosity got the best of her.
She pulled open the door and sucked in a breath. “Mary Elizabeth.” Paul’s wife. The last time Becky had seen Mary was when they rescued Chewie from his horrible living conditions on the Kings’ farm. Her old friend had been watching her from the porch when she left.
A thought suddenly slammed into her and she had an irrational urge to scoop up Chewie and hide him in the mudroom, but the fool dog was barking his head off at the horse. It wasn’t like Becky could hide him now.
Mary bowed her bonneted head and clasped her hands together. Pink blossomed in her cheeks. Apparently, her old friend had found her house, but now that she was here, she couldn’t find the words.
Becky stepped back and held out her hand. “Would you like to come in? I could make tea.”
Mary studied her with cautious eyes. “I shouldn’t.” Her gaze scurried around the porch as if she feared she’d be discovered. “Can we talk out here?”
“Sure. Hold on.” Becky closed the door over and ran to get Chewie’s leash. She hooked it onto the ring of his collar and met Mary on the porch. She followed Chewie down the steps and stood on the walkway while Chewie sniffed and explored every inch of the yard that he possibly could within the parameters of his leash.
“I see the dog is doing well,” Mary said, her voice soft.
“Yes. He seems happy.” She studied her old friend. “What brings you here?”
Mary started wringing her hands again. “They came and took all the dogs away this morning.”
Becky nodded, hiding her relief. “The dogs needed to be cared for. You must realize that.”
“Yah, I do. And Paul does. He’s too proud to admit we got overwhelmed. We never meant to let the conditions get so bad. After Paul’s father died and we had a rough crop season, he thought it would be a way to make a little extra money.” She turned her back to Becky, the hem of her long gown brushing against her black boots.
“Animal control will make sure they’re cared for. It’ll be fine.”
“Yah, but I’m worried about my family. Will the sheriff’s department take Paul away? He was only trying to do right by his family.”
Becky tightened her grip as Chewie tugged, trying to chase a bunny under the tree but was foiled by the leash.
“Everything will be okay,” Becky said reassuringly, but really, she had no idea what if any charges would be made.
“We heard Englischers liked puppies and were willing to pay gut money. We never...” She bowed her bonneted head. “We never meant to mistreat the dogs.”
“What did the deputies say after they collected the animals?”
“I don’t know. Paul told me to stay in the house.” Mary’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t know how any of this works. I could never imagine the farm without him. We’ve already had a rough year.” Every possible emotion flickered across her face as she considered the worst possible scenario.
“Don’t borrow trouble.”
“Can you talk to the sheriff? Make sure Paul isn’t arrested? You can do that, yah?”
Becky dragged the toe of her sneaker along the edge of a paver. She wasn’t sure how much she could do now that she was suspended, but her heart went out to her friend.
She took a chance. “I’ve been suspended from my job.”
All the color seemed to drain from Mary’s face. Her skin tone matched her bonnet. She turned away, then turned back around. “Was it because of the incident with Elijah Lapp?”
Becky studied her friend’s face. Does Mary know something? A slow whoosh-whoosh-whoosh filled Becky’s ears and she chose her next words carefully. “The sheriff is trying to sort out what happened. A video suggests I was more involved than I claimed.” Her pulse spike with the injustice of it all. “But I’m innocent. I never hurt Elijah. I need a witness to come forward to support my claim.” Her mouth grew dry, making it difficult to swallow.
“A witness?” Something about the way Mary said the two simple words niggled at Becky’s insides. Anticipation buzzed her nerves.
Mary does know something.
“Can you help me
?” Becky pressed her lips together, trying not to say too much. Trying not to scare her skittish friend.
Mary folded her arms tightly over the white bib of her pale gray dress and began to pace. “Maybe we can help each other.” She flicked her gaze at Becky, then back down to the grass.
Becky waited.
“Paul’s brother, Amos, was there the day Elijah got hurt. I’m sure he’d come forward as your witness if it meant protecting his brother.”
A mix of hope and disbelief washed over Becky. “Does Amos know what happened?”
Mary drew up her shoulders and let them fall. “I heard Amos and Paul talking. Amos showed Paul the video.”
“When did this happen?” Becky felt light-headed.
“Last week.”
Becky’s stomach bottomed out. “Are you sure?” Last week? Becky had only been suspended a few days ago.
“Yah, definitely. We had to clear out the barn for Sunday service and they were standing in the corner looking at something on Amos’s phone.”
“Do you know if Paul or Amos sent this video to anyone?” Deputy Reich’s attorney had supposedly received it anonymously. Had Paul turned it over in an effort to get back at her for harassing—as he called it—him over the dogs? That had been an ongoing source of confrontation even before the Elijah incident. The video might have been the perfect ammunition Paul needed to get back at her.
Becky pressed a shaky hand to her forehead. If Paul thought the video would hurt her, how did Becky think Amos could help her now? A headache started behind her eyes, realizing the futility of it all. Unless... Unless, she thought to herself, Amos saw something the video hadn’t captured. Maybe he could testify that she hadn’t struck Elijah with her baton.
Nerves knotted her stomach. “Did Paul turn that video in to anyone? Maybe the lawyer representing the other deputy?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Why would Amos help me if he took the video? If he turned it in...” She scratched the top of her head. “He never came forward before. Why would he help now?”