going to be okay?” He stared straight ahead as fields of corn whipped by on either side of them.
“Yeah.” What else could she say? She wasn’t exactly going to pour her heart out to him. He was a stranger.
“You need to hire a lawyer,” he said matter-of-factly.
She shifted in her seat to partially face him. “You really think so? Isn’t that expensive?”
“It might be too costly not to hire a lawyer. You need someone looking out for your best interests.” He wished he had seen that his brother had got the help that he had needed instead of allowing his anger and embarrassment to put a rift between the two of them. “The sheriff’s department has had a publicity nightmare after the beating incident. The video from your dash cam made it onto all the news stations from Buffalo to Cleveland. If this new video gets out, depending on what’s on it, this story is going to grow legs and find its way into all the news cycles again. The sheriff’s department will do anything to get out of the spotlight, even if that means throwing you under the bus.”
“You can’t be serious.” She swept her hand across her mouth and eyed him wearily. “This is a small-town sheriff’s department, not some big city.”
“Office politics are office politics.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Does the latest video support that statement?” His gut told him she couldn’t be violent, but in an altercation, you never knew. Adrenaline and fear did things to people.
“Yes... I used the baton to separate the men.” Becky tugged on the strap of her seat belt. “Reich’s lawyer gave the sheriff a video of me approaching the men with my baton raised.” She cleared her throat. “The rest of what happened is unclear. Whoever recorded it took off running, but...” She paused, rubbing her temples vigorously as if reliving the moment. “I used the baton to brace Reich and pull him off the kid. I didn’t hit anybody. I mean, if I hurt anyone with the baton, it would be when I forced it against Reich.” She blinked a few times. “I can’t believe this mess. I only became a deputy because I wanted to help people. Now everyone is going to think I’ve turned evil.” Her turn of expression sounded odd.
“Take a deep breath.” He wanted to reach out and touch her hand, but decided against it. “Hiring a lawyer is a good idea, especially for the innocent.” Well, for anyone. “Don’t fight this alone. Reich has a lawyer,” he added, if she needed more convincing.
“I don’t know,” Becky muttered. Before he had a chance to respond, her cell phone chimed. She yanked the phone from her duty belt and checked the number. “I should get this.”
Harrison listened to a one-sided conversation. Obviously, someone Becky knew personally was in distress.
He reached over and touched her arm and mouthed. “What’s going on?”
“Hold on, Mag.” She held the phone to her chest. “My sister wants me to stop over. She’s concerned about a neighbor’s dog. Again.”
“Where does she live?”
“It’s okay. I don’t want to impose on you any more than I already have.”
“I don’t mind. I haven’t had any calls anyway.”
“Um, okay.” Then into the phone. “Hang tight. I’ll be right there.”
Becky directed Harrison toward a house nestled among a cluster of Amish homes. “Right up here. Park on the road along the cornfields. Better if they don’t see the patrol car.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
Becky scratched her head. “My sister. She’s worried about a neighbor’s dog that ran onto the property. It’s been an ongoing concern. The dog is hungry and not well cared for. We’ve suspected abuse, but I’ve handled it unofficially, returning the dog to his owner after they promised they’d take better care of it.” She frowned. “Obviously, that’s not working.”
“Wait.” Harrison angled his head to look up toward the home. A buggy was parked by the barn. An Amish family obviously lived here. “Your sister?”
“Yah, my sister.” A twinkle lit her eyes. He had a feeling the amplified Amish inflection was for his benefit.
“Oh...” It was his turn to sound confused. “You grew up Amish?”
She pointed to her nose and said, “Ding. Ding. Ding.”
“Oh... Do you want me to wait here, then?” Harrison asked, suddenly feeling a little discombobulated. Amish? Really?
Becky hesitated for a moment. “That would probably be best.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. I’ll be right here.” Now he was repeating himself, completely caught off guard by her revelation.
Becky climbed out of the patrol car and strode along the road and cut in between the cornfields, as if to go in undetected. He had read somewhere that the Amish shunned those who left their ranks. Perhaps Becky was sneaking in because she wasn’t welcomed.
Harrison rubbed the back of his neck, replaying in his mind all the events that had transpired since he had held the door at the station open for Becky this morning. He hadn’t had much interaction with the deputy since he’d moved here less than a year ago, but he would have never guessed former Amish worked as deputies. Were there others?
Now the warning in Pennsylvania Dutch to “go away” made a little more sense. But how a woman went from Amish to sheriff’s deputy was beyond him. Maybe it was time he finally learned a little more about the Amish. And maybe Becky was just the person to teach him.
* * *
Becky strode up the dirt path between the cornfield and the neighbor’s property. She undid the buttons on her cuffs and rolled up her sleeves, hoping to look a little less official in her sheriff’s uniform. It was early enough that perhaps her parents would be too busy with chores to notice their wayward daughter had snuck in to meet with her younger sister out back by the shed.
She hoped.
But if she did run into them, she wanted to downplay the fact that not only had she jumped the fence, but she had also joined the sheriff’s department. Her parents didn’t need to voice their displeasure. It was a given, not that either of them had even discussed it directly with her. It was kind of hard to confront someone when you didn’t talk to them.
When Becky got to the shed without being discovered, she heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t think her day could get any worse.
Until it had.
Mag—short for Magdaline—was sitting with her back pressed against the shed, a mangy dog in her lap. At seventeen, Mag was the youngest of the Spoth family children. Three brothers separated the bookend sisters, two of which were already married. Only Abram and Mag still lived at home.
“Hi, Mag.” Becky crouched down and her heart dropped when she saw the pain in her sister’s eyes. Becky gingerly touched the dog’s matted hair. An unpleasant aroma wafted off the unwashed dog in the summer morning
