She closed her eyes briefly and drew in a long breath, before finally meeting his gaze. “And now I’m out of a job.”
She pushed to her feet and pulled out her cell phone from her duty belt. She walked around to the back of the vehicle and snapped a photo. “Don’t let me hold you up. Pretty sure it won’t do you much good to hang out with me.”
He walked around to where she was standing to see what had caught her attention. He raised his eyebrows, surprised she seemed so calm. Is fattgange was written in soap on her back window. Gibberish as far as he could tell.
“What does that say? Anything?”
“It’s Pennsylvania Dutch. You know, the language the Amish speak.”
He hitched a shoulder. He had been here for less than a year, but other than a few bits and pieces here and there, he mostly heard the Amish speaking English, perhaps with a touch of an accent. “What’s it mean?”
“Go away.” Her tone was flat.
“I’m just trying to help.” Harrison held up his palms and took a step back, not sure what he had said to offend her.
For the first time, the young woman’s mouth curved into a grin and she laughed, adding to his confusion. “No, that’s what is fattgange means. Go away. In Pennsylvania Dutch.”
Harrison scratched his head and couldn’t help but laugh at himself. “Sorry, I haven’t picked up much Pennsylvania Dutch yet, beyond the basics.”
“You’ll learn a little here and there, but most of the adults speak English. That is, when they want to talk to you. The Amish, as a rule, don’t care to deal with law enforcement. The only problem you might run into is with little kids. Most of them don’t learn English until they start school. But it’s not likely you’ll run into an Amish child without one of their parents or older siblings around.”
Harrison nodded. “Yes, they mentioned that in my training.” What little training the small-town sheriff’s department had provided. He frowned. “You think an Amish person vandalized your car?”
“I don’t know what to think. The car has been parked here all night on the edge of the parking lot by the trees. Pretty easy for someone to sneak in and out without being seen.” She ran a hand across the top of her head. Her long blond hair had been braided, then pinned over her head, almost like the Swiss Miss girl. Something told him she was holding back, as if she had her suspicions as to who had vandalized her car.
“Go inside and report this. I’ll wait. Give you a ride home.”
“Are you sure?” Skepticism flickered in her eyes as she glanced toward the sheriff’s station, then at him.
“Yes, go.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out his business card and handed it to her. “My cell phone number’s on here. If you come out and I’m not here, call me. I’ll swing by and pick you up.” He had no idea how long the report would take.
She took the card and slipped it into her back pocket.
Harrison watched the deputy cross the parking lot to the station. He sensed, rather than saw, another patrol car approaching. He tugged open his patrol car door and the cold air from the AC hit his legs. The car inched past, coming awfully close to his open door, and stopped. Harrison squinted, unable to see the officer’s face due to the brim of his hat.
The window slid down. Harrison tilted his head to see inside. The officer had his wrist casually slung on top of the steering wheel, blocking the name tag on his chest. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
“A little advice for the new guy.”
Harrison wondered how long he had to be here before he was no longer the new guy. He gestured toward the driver to get on with it even though he didn’t want his advice.
“Stay away from the chick. She’s toxic.”
Harrison crossed his arms and glared at the deputy, struggling to place him, then finally remembering his name: Colin. Colin Reich. Ned’s son. No wonder he had it in for Deputy Spoth.
“Thanks for the tip.” Harrison’s tone was even. He had seen office politics take down the best of them. He had no plans to stir the pot. A noncommittal answer was best.
Behind the wheel, Colin saluted him in a mocking gesture, as if he suspected Harrison was going to do his own thing regardless. The man wasn’t wrong.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the deputy muttered before closing the window and driving away.
“Where do you live?” Harrison asked Becky as he put the patrol car into Drive.
“Out on Asbury Road past the Millers’ farm.”
He cut her a sideways glance. “Mind telling the new guy where the Miller farm is?” Before she had a chance to answer, he lifted his hand in resignation. The locals often gave directions by landmark and if he didn’t want to be forever known as the new guy, he had better figure it out. “Why don’t you just holler when I need to make a turn? Sound good?” He gestured with his chin toward the road. “A left out of here?”
“Yeah.” Her tone sounded as flat as the four tires on her car still awaiting the tow truck in the parking lot. A part of him wondered if whoever was taking their frustration out on her was doing it not just because she testified against another deputy, but because she was a woman. Despite the calendar year, a lot of guys still believed in the good old boys’ club.
Harrison drummed his fingers on the top of the steering wheel as he slowed to look both ways before he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Everything go okay when you reported the incident?” The sheriff seemed like a pretty solid guy, determined to make a strong showing in his new position.
“Yeah, I guess.”
His gut told him not to ask, not to get involved. But he couldn’t help himself. “What does that mean?”
“Apparently, I’ve attracted some unwanted attention, including getting run off the road this morning.”
This kind of behavior really ticked him off. Negligent drivers. Probably out drinking.
“The sheriff wanted to dismiss it as reckless driving on some back country roads, but now this...” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Here, turn at the next road. It’s quicker.” She tugged on her seat belt and continued on about the sheriff. “If he hadn’t already suspended me, he probably would have after my car was vandalized. I’m attracting the wrong kind of attention. The sheriff would probably claim a few more days off would be for my own good. Department morale seems at a low.”
“Does the sheriff think it’s someone in his department?” He scrubbed a hand across his face.
“Not that he’d ever say. But I wouldn’t put it past Reich himself. He’s a loose cannon.” Becky ran the palms of her hands up and down the thighs of her uniform pants.
“His son works here, too.” Harrison thought back to the
