pulled her aside. “Is that...?” He wanted to ask if that was a good idea. That the clothes might serve as evidence, but he could tell by the look on Christina’s face that she had already waged and lost that battle with the young Amish girl. Even in the case of a possible sexual assault, in New York State the victim had the right to refuse evidence collection. And if Cheryl was to be believed, Ben had brought Naomi straight from the party to the clinic, minimizing the opportunity for such an assault.
His lips thinned and he gave Christina a quick nod.
Christina grabbed Dylan’s arm and pulled him down the hall toward the laundry. She leaned in close and whispered, “I fear sending this sweet girl home in a dirty dress or sweatpants will create far more questions than she’s willing to answer. I think we need to get her cleaned up and see her safely home.”
Dylan nodded, sensing Christina was searching for his agreement.
Christina stepped away from Dylan and they returned to where the young women were standing. “The laundry’s in the back. We’ll wash your dress before you go home.”
An unmistakable look of relief swept across the young Amish woman’s face. “Denki. My mem and dat would ask a lot of questions if I showed up in a wet, dirty dress.”
Point made.
Christina gave the girl a quick nod and disappeared toward the back of the clinic. He heard the unmistakable crank of a noisy knob on a washer and the gush of water filling the tub.
Cheryl put her hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Going to that party was a dumb idea.”
Naomi frowned. “I thought I could patch things up with Lloyd.”
Dylan wasn’t interested in Naomi’s love life, but he wondered what this Ben knew about Naomi getting drugged. “Do you know where this Reist boy lives? I’ll call the sheriff and have them run by his house. Get a statement.”
Naomi looked up with worried eyes. “I’ll be ruined if the police are involved. My parents will find out. They won’t understand.” She pulled the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt down over her hands. “I should have never gone to that party. My mem and dat would be disappointed.”
Dylan understood all about disappointing a parent. His demanding father wasn’t exactly reasonable. And his mother died when he was barely eight. She had been the calming force. The reasonable one.
“Here’s the thing...” Christina reemerged from the laundry room, as if she had been giving something considerable thought. “Dylan can help without getting the police involved. Give us the address and we’ll check it out.”
Naomi shook her head frantically. “I don’t remember.”
“Cheryl knows, then,” Christina said, obviously not taking no for an answer.
Dylan cleared his throat. “You were fortunate nothing more happened.” He hoped they weren’t making a leap in their assumptions. “We need to find out who may have drugged you.”
Naomi’s hand flew to her midsection. She looked like she was going to be sick. “I can’t get involved.” She balled up the cuff of her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. “I don’t know the address or anything.”
“I don’t know the exact address, either, but I know how to find the house. I’d have to show you. There was a sign in front,” Cheryl said.
“I want to forget this night. Please.” Naomi bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. “I want to forget it ever happened.”
Christina pressed the palms of her hands together. “You can’t go home until your clothes are cleaned, right?” She opened her eyes wide, pleading. “We’ll take a drive in Dylan’s truck. You can show us the location. We won’t stop. We won’t get out of the car. No one will ever know it was you. Okay?”
“Why?” Naomi said, the defeat in her tone evident. “It won’t change anything.”
Dylan was about to say something when he noticed the rigid set of Christina’s body. Anger and maybe something akin to regret flashed in the depths of her eyes. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but it’s important that you seek justice.” Christina’s voice cracked over the last word and she shook her head briefly, as if trying to snap out of it. “Another young college girl was drugged recently at a party. We need to put a stop to this.”
Dread knotted Dylan’s gut. Christina spoke as if this were personal. Was it? Had something happened to her? Shame washed over him. He had returned to Apple Creek with his own bags packed to their bursting seams with regret, guilt and anger. Never once did he consider that Christina—the physician with wealthy parents, the woman who had everything, the woman who followed her dreams—had had her own share of troubles.
“The Amish ways are not like yours,” Naomi said flatly. “We handle things among our own.”
Christina blinked her eyes slowly, as if trying to tame her frustration. “I consider you a friend, Naomi. We’ve chatted a bit each time when you’ve come in to work, right? I know you’re happy in the Amish community.”
“Yah.”
“This person may try to spike other girls’ drinks. He may have already done it.”
“Are you serious?” Cheryl asked in disbelief, her long ponytail swinging as her hooded eyes darted from Christina to Dylan and back to Christina.
“Yes, I’m serious.” Christina threaded her fingers and held her hands in front of her, pleading with Naomi. “I want you to show us, but I won’t force you.”
Naomi rubbed her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve, then pulled it away, revealing watery eyes and a tear tracking down her cheek.
“Yah,” Naomi whispered, her shoulders easing down from her ears. “We’ll show you. But please don’t tell anyone.”
* * *
Cheryl was the far more chatty of the two as she gave Dylan directions to the location of the party. She seemed to enjoy the spotlight. Something about it rubbed Dylan the wrong way, or maybe her manner seemed so forward in contrast to Naomi’s quiet nature.
“How did you two meet?” Dylan finally asked.
“Naomi cleans homes in town.” Dylan wished Cheryl would let Naomi speak for herself.
“The extra money helps my family,” Naomi said, her voice low.
“You were at the Webbs’ house—right?—and heard about his party.” Cheryl didn’t wait for Naomi to answer. “Aaron Webb had a big party and invited you. I was floored when I found out you were Amish.” She scooted up on the edge of the backseat so her voice got louder. “Naomi was dressed normally, like in jeans and T-shirt.” Then as if realizing her backhanded slam, Cheryl added, “I mean, you weren’t dressed Amish. Anyway, we started seeing each other around at different parties and stuff and became friends. Like what, six months ago?”
“Yah.” Naomi sounded resigned. “Cleaning all those homes, I started to think I’d rather live in the outside world. But I was wrong.”
