Plain Outsider

by Alison Stone

  Harrison studied the teen. “No, we’re here to talk to him. Do you know Lucas?”

  The kid roughly rubbed his nose. A large scab covered his elbow. “Everyone knows Lucas.” The kid rolled his eyes. “But no one likes him.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s always mad. Going on about how he’s going to become a deputy and come back and put us all in jail. He acts like he never did the stuff we do.” The kid glanced around, acting skittish. “Nothing bad, just stuff like skidding on the gravel in front of his trailer. Playing our music loud. He once stole my friend’s baseball mitt when he put it down to run in for a drink. Claims he never saw it.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “Any idea where Lucas hangs out?” Harrison asked.

  “Mostly he hangs on the porch yelling at us. If he’s not here, I don’t want to know where he is.”

  “Thanks,” Harrison said, then turned to the sheriff. “Find anything out?”

  “Ned says he doesn’t have much contact with his son. The son was the result of a stupid fling.” The sheriff frowned. “His words, not mine. Never married the mother. The relationship has always been strained.” This pretty much matched what Harrison got from the mother.

  Harrison ran a hand across his jaw. “Okay, so he’s not with Ned. Wonder—”

  The sheriff held up his hand. “Ned’s out of town. Gone fishing up at Lake George. Just turned on his phone—was trying to go off the grid for a bit, but knew with everything going on regarding his employment that he better not go completely silent. Anyway, he had a notice on his home monitoring app. Someone entered his house here in town. Knew the alarm code.”

  “Couldn’t be Lucas, right? Not if Ned doesn’t have contact with his son. He wouldn’t know the code,” Harrison reasoned.

  “Here’s the thing. About a year ago Ned reached out to the kid. Thought maybe he was wrong in not being a father figure. Even had him dog-sit.” The sheriff pushed up his hat. “But the dog wasn’t well cared for and the two had a blowout. Haven’t spoken much since.”

  “So, unless Ned changed the code, Lucas has it.”

  “Exactly. Ned never changed it.” The sheriff reached for the car door handle. “Told Ned we’d check on his property. Told him not to call the house. We want the element of surprise.”

  Harrison pulled the passenger door open. “What are we waiting for?”

  * * *

  Becky studied Lucas from her seat in the corner of the couch. He opened and closed closets and drawers with short, jerky movements. She wondered if he was under the influence of something. His distraction never lasted long enough for her to make a move, especially with her hands in cuffs.

  A few feet in front of her, Lucas opened the cabinet under the TV then froze as if he had remembered something. He slowly pivoted, glared at her with a distant expression, stood and then strode over to the door and opened it. Watching carefully, she slid to the front of the couch cushion and shifted her weight to her feet. Ready to pounce.

  Lucas slammed the door. “His car’s not here. I thought I heard it. I think he went fishing.” A muscle worked in his jaw as his gaze locked on hers. He tilted his head and studied her, perhaps trying to read her thoughts, trying to figure out why she had positioned herself forward on the couch. Was he going to lash out at her? Make her regret her feeble attempt at overpowering him.

  She slid back onto the couch casually. “Do you like to go fishing?”

  “He only takes Noah fishing.”

  Becky licked her lips. “Is Noah the little boy in the photographs?”

  Lucas practically snarled. “My half brother, not that anyone would know it.”

  “Maybe your father would take you fishing if you asked him to.” Lucas seemed like someone who would be too proud to ask for what he wanted.

  Lucas plowed a hand through his hair. “I need to see him. Show him what I’ve done for him.”

  “What have you done for him?” Her pulse whooshed loudly in her ears as she held her breath, waiting for the answer. Fearing the answer.

  “I’m going to take care of his biggest problem.” His expression was a mix of determination and anger. “He’s finally going to be proud of me.”

  Becky slid forward on the couch cushion again, her heart jackhammering in her chest. “Hurting me is not going to solve anything. Can you please remove my handcuffs? It’s hard to sit like this. My arms are aching.”

  He stopped and stared at her; his eyes looked blank, but something compelled him to grant her request. He put the handcuffs back on, but this time in front. She counted it as a victory. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t thank me.” He couldn’t seem to make eye contact. She wanted to get him talking, hoping to break down the wall around his heart.

  “I can imagine you’re sorry you ran me off the road and slashed my tires.”

  His gaze shot up to her face and he laughed. “Sorry? My only regret is that I didn’t kill you when I had the chance.” He made a gesture of a gun with his fingers and slowly lowered it to take aim at her head. “If my shot had been one foot lower, your brains would have been splattered all over your little dog. Don’t think I’m a bad shot. The miss was intentional. Fear is a powerful motivator.”

  “Motivator?”

  “To motivate you to leave my father alone.”

  Becky threaded her fingers and twisted. “Did your friends know what you were up to?” Maybe if she kept him talking she could buy some time. She wasn’t sure at all if Harrison would figure out where they were. They had no idea Lucas was Ned’s son.

  An ugly smile pulled at his lips. “My friends?”

  “Yes, Deputy James talked to four young men, including you, the day you almost shot me. The day you and your friends were having target practice behind my house.” She watched as he scratched his neck viscously as if a mosquito had bitten him. “Did your friends know what you were up to? Were they in on it?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking him, but the longer he answered questions, the less likely he would act on his wish to see her dead.

  “They were clueless.” He seemed to take pride in his proclamation. “I told them that nature called. I slid into the woods.” He gave her an exaggerated frown as if he was recalling the events of that day. “I was going to shoot out a window in your house. Scare you back to the Amish farm where you came from. But imagine my surprise when you were outside.” He made a shooting sound with his lips. “Bang. Bang. I waited until one of the guys took aim at a tin can, masking my shot. The bark exploded and the look of terror on your face was worth it. Hid the gun in a hollowed-out log. Went back to get it later. I’m not so stupid. Not sure why my dad is so hard on me.”

  Becky floated between fear of and sympathy for this truly lost young man. “You don’t have to do this, Lucas. Let me go.” She was going to add, “no one has to know,” but it seemed rather cliché.

  The doorbell rang.

  Lucas swung his attention toward the front door and cursed under his breath. They both knew his father wouldn’t ring the doorbell. Lucas held up his index finger to his mouth in a harsh hush gesture.

  The sound of her ragged breath filled her ears. Should she yell out for help? Seconds ticked by, indecision weighing on her. She couldn’t risk the safety of whoever was at the door.

  The doorbell chimed again followed by a pounding.

  “Lucas Handler, it’s the sheriff. Open up.”

  “What the...?” Lucas darted over to the kitchen and grabbed her gun from the counter. Becky cringed at how carelessly he handled the weapon. Hated that it was her weapon he was going to use against the sheriff.

  With a determined set of the jaw, Lucas stomped over to the couch and yanked Becky up by the front of her shirt. Her awkward forward momentum caused her shoulder to crash into his solid chest.

  “Lucas,” the sheriff yelled again, “we k
now you’re in there. We’re looking for Deputy Spoth. Come on, son. Your dad wouldn’t want this.”

  Lucas’s face grew red with rage. “You have no idea what my father wants. You fired him.”

  While Lucas directed his fury toward the front of the house, out of the corner of her eye Becky thought she saw a shadow in the yard. Hope blossomed in her chest. She made sure Lucas was focused on the front door, and she turned her full attention to the glass sliders in the kitchen. Harrison peeked around the corner, careful not to make himself a target, and gave her a reassuring nod.

  Becky had to think fast. They were on the precipice of a major tragedy, of which she was going to be the star. She bowed her head and tucked her face into her shoulder. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Lucas seemed to snap out of it for a moment, long enough to register what she had said.

  “Please, I’m going to throw up.”

  Lucas gestured toward the kitchen sink. “In there. I’m not cleaning up your mess.”

  Becky nodded contritely and took a small step backward. She needed him to believe she was weak. A victim. At this moment she chose to be anything but.

  Panicked by the sheriff at the front door, Lucas left her to move about unchecked. He jogged to the front door and positioned himself against the wall, holding the gun in both hands now, down between his legs, his attention focused on a thin, smoked-glass side light running the length of the door. She prayed the sheriff stayed clear of the window, otherwise it would be a bullet from her gun in his gut.

  Becky pivoted and walked slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself. At that exact moment the sheriff started pounding again. Lucas jammed a hand through his hair, his whole body trembling. An animal trapped in a corner with no hope of escape.

  Becky let out a long, shaky breath, knowing they had reached a critical point.

  As she moved toward the sink, she hustled past the slider, flicked the lock in one fluid motion. Her heart dropped when she noticed a bar reinforcement. Watching Lucas out of the corner of her eye, she released the bar and it dropped with a clack.

  “What’s that?” Lucas yelled, marching partially down the hallway with short, jittery steps.

  Becky leaned heavily on a chair. “Sorry, I tripped.” Holding her breath, she watched as Lucas shifted his attention back to the front door. She moved toward the sink. Her throat growing tight, she turned on the faucet and made like she was splashing water on her face, the entire time watching the situation out of the corner of her eye.

  Harrison slid open the door and aimed his gun at Lucas with his one good hand. “Drop the gun.”

  Lucas’s eyes widened and all the color drained from his face. He seemed baffled that the sheriff was at the front door while Deputy James had made it in through the back.

  Becky grabbed a cast-iron skillet off the hook in the kitchen and crept through the dining room, emerging on the other side of the foyer with a clear sight of Lucas.

  “Drop the gun!” Harrison yelled again.

  The young man’s fingers twitched near the trigger. His arm started to rise. Becky lifted the skillet with her two cuffed hands and ran at Lucas, clobbering him over the head.

  Lucas crumpled to the ground in a heap of limbs and baggy clothes. Becky dropped the pan; her arms felt like JELL-O.

  She turned to look at Harrison. He slid his gun back into its holster and without one note of surprise said, “Nice job.” He opened the door to the sheriff. “There’s your man.”

  The sheriff crouched down, picked up the gun and pressed his fingers to Lucas’s neck to check for a pulse. “What did you do?”

  “What I had to,” Becky said, pointing with her thumb at the heavy skillet on the table.

  The sheriff handed keys to Harrison and he quickly undid her handcuffs. He gently ran his hand over the tender skin of her wrist. “You okay?”

  She narrowed her gaze at his bloodstained shirt. “I could ask the same of you.”

  He touched his wounded arm. “I’ll live.”

  “I’ll call an ambulance for our friend here on the floor.” The sheriff stepped outside, leaving the door open.

  Becky ran a hand across her face, her wrists still sore from the handcuffs. “Honestly, I didn’t know I had it in me.”

  “I did.” Harrison pulled her into a one-armed embrace and for the first time since he had been shot on her front porch—which seemed like a lifetime ago—Becky allowed herself to take a deep breath. She rested her head on his shoulder, careful not to hurt his arm.

  Harrison smiled at her. “You’re one tough deputy.”

  “Thanks for providing a distraction so I could sneak up on him.”

  “My pleasure.” She could hear the smile in his voice as his breath whispered across her hair.

  “I think it’s finally over for real. Lucas was the one harassing me, trying to get payback for his father.”

  Harrison stepped back and ran a tender hand down her arm. “I’m happy for you. But I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

  “You’ll have to get used to it. I’m a deputy. Your job isn’t to protect me.”

  He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips as his gaze drifted to the door.

  “Ambulance is on the way.” The sheriff stood in the doorway, holding his phone. “They’re going to want a full statement from you, Deputy Spoth.”

  “Yes, sir.” But this time her statement would be the end of her problems and not the beginning.

  Harrison gently took her by the hand and led her outside. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet night air. “I’m grateful God was watching over me tonight. And that He sent you.”

  “Me, too. I don’t know what I would have done...” His words trailed off and she felt his steady gaze on her as the darkness and sounds of nature crowded in on them. “You know, you’re not in this alone.”

  “No?” She looked up at him.

  “All deputies need backup,” he added breezily, as if their conversation had grown too serious.

  Her quiet laugh had a shaky quality to it. “Are you offering to be my backup?”

  “How about an offer of dinner instead?”

  Heat warmed her cheeks. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re asking me on a date?”

  “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

  Feeling emboldened after everything she’d been through, Becky placed her hand on his chest and stretched up to brush a kiss across his cheek. “I’d love to go to dinner. But, let’s keep it low key.” Harrison didn’t have plans to stick around Quail Hollow long term anyway, no sense making it more than it was.

  The sound of sirens approaching filed the air. “Low key sounds perfect.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s go inside before the mosquitos eat us alive.”

  FOURTEEN

  A few days later, while back at work, Becky felt like she had never left. The one big change was that she was now on the day shift and her fellow officers no longer gave her the side eye. They no more tolerated rogue deputies than she had, but it took a few of the officers a while to realize former Deputy Ned Reich wasn’t the good guy they thought he was. Even his son, Deputy Colin Reich, had offered her an apology for giving her a hard time. The entire sheriff’s department wanted to move forward.

  Becky hoped Ned would eventually find his way. He had admitted his temper got the best of him when it came to the beating of Elijah Lapp. Fortunately, Elijah was on the mend. Last she heard, he had moved to live with family in another Amish community. And Ned lost his job. But Becky felt deep in her heart that Ned was repentant. Perhaps he could eventually find his place in this community and rise from the ashes after he served whatever sentence he received for beating a man.

  But that was his journey. Not hers.

  The afternoon temperatures
had still remained hotter than average for Quail Hollow, New York. Calls to the sheriff’s department had thankfully been slow. As Becky crested the hill near her family’s farm, she decided there were other fences she needed to mend before she’d be content to settle into her new routine.

  Becky parked her patrol car along the road out of respect for her Amish family and neighbors. She called into dispatch to let them know where she was. She used the guise that she was checking on the Kings’ residence after the incident with the puppies.

  The hot sun beat down on her hat as she walked toward the Kings’ barn. She held her shoulders back. She was done letting even a hint of shame color how she felt about her job as a sheriff’s deputy. Her Amish family may not like it, but there was an element of pride for serving as a law enforcement officer. Despite their tenet of staying separate, even the Amish had to admit law enforcement had the entire community’s best interests at heart.

  As she approached the barn, she had a sense of déjà vu, yet it felt like a million years since she had rescued Chewie from his horrible living conditions.

  Oh man, Chewie, she thought. The little guy had been a great companion. She supposed she had to ask Mag if she was expecting him to come live with her. Becky had promised her sister, but she would hate to see the little fur ball go. He was her only steady companion after she and Harrison decided to keep things platonic after their dinner date.

  Becky supposed it was probably for the best. Despite her growing feelings for him, they both had different paths in life. She suspected he’d be returning to Buffalo soon anyway.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone running across the yard: her old friend, Mary Elizabeth.

  “Becky, is something wrong?” Mary asked.

  Becky shook her head. “No. I wanted to see how things were going.”

  “Fine,” Mary responded stiffly. “Anything else?” Mary glanced toward the barn, perhaps a bit nervously, probably wishing Becky’d leave. Her friend had been terrified she’d lose her husband if he was arrested for mistreating the dogs. But that had been resolved with fines and the promise to not mistreat animals again. Becky wanted to believe the Kings had never meant to hurt the animals, but had quickly become overwhelmed with their puppy selling enterprise.