speaking out against one of her fellow deputies.
“You’ve been under tremendous pressure,” the sheriff said with a reassuring tilt to his mouth.
“Yes.” Becky swallowed hard, feeling a bit like she was being interrogated again. Like she had when she answered questions about The Incident. That was how she had begun to think of it. A young Amish man had led Deputy Ned Reich on a high-speed chase and only stopped when he bailed out of his car in the hopes of making a getaway on foot. Fueled by adrenaline and a well-known bad attitude, Deputy Reich had quickly caught up with the man and beaten him to within an inch of his life. By the time Becky—Reich’s backup—arrived on the scene, the young Amish man was on the ground and Ned was driving his fist into his face. Becky had stared at the ceiling each night wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t come by to put an end to the beating.
Even now she wondered how she had been able to stop the fight. The events of that afternoon blurred into an adrenaline-fueled haze. She thanked God she had the strength and inclination to do something.
Becky bent back her fingers on one hand in a nervous gesture. Once she became aware of it, she dropped her hand, only to absentmindedly pick it up and start again.
She had left the Amish because she felt like she had a bigger calling—to help people outside the small Amish community. But she was beginning to think this job was going to be the death of her. She never imagined small-town policing could be such stressful work.
The sheriff picked up a cell phone that had been face down on his desk, then put it back down again. “New evidence has come to light.”
“New evidence against Deputy Reich?” A part of her was relieved. The more independent evidence against Ned, perhaps the less they’d have to rely on her testimony when it came to his trial. For now she had only testified in the confines of the department, providing enough information to keep Reich out of uniform for the foreseeable future. Maybe forever, depending on what additional evidence the sheriff had found. She hated this situation, but if she could find a spark of hope, this was it. Maybe her life would get back to normal and her fellow officers wouldn’t treat her like a traitor.
The sheriff shot her a subtle gaze that chilled her to the core. She had misread this entire situation. “What is it?” Her body seemed to be hovering over her.
The sheriff touched the corner of his computer screen, adjusting its angle so she could see it. He clicked a few keys on his keyboard and a video frame popped up. The sheriff clicked the arrow button and an image of Ned pummeling the Amish kid while he was down on the pavement came into focus. The familiar uneasy feeling swept over her. The video had been taken from her dash cam on her patrol car. She wanted to look away, but didn’t. Couldn’t. There was a reason the sheriff was showing her this video, the same video she had seen play over and over again during her testimony against the man.
Her heart raced, just as it did the afternoon the events unfolded. Just as it did every time she had to relive the moment. She ran her hands up and down the arms of the chair. “I’ve seen this video more times than I can count, sir. Are we looking at something new?”
The sheriff cut her a quick gaze. “Hold on.” He moved the mouse and scanned over a few files. Perhaps he had shown her the wrong video. “Here it is.”
This time when he clicked on the arrow, another video played. She slid to the edge of her seat as the familiar scene played out from a new angle. One she had never seen before. She shot a quick glance to her boss, then back to the video. This time she appeared on the screen. She had out her baton. Nausea swirled in her gut.
“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Her terrified voice could be heard in the video. She had her baton raised, much like Ned had his fist raised moments ago in the other video.
“What is this?” Her voice cracked.
“Someone took a video with their cell phone.”
She stared at the screen as if watching someone else. A million memories from that day assaulted her, but this particular one escaped her. As she approached, Ned dragged the man behind his patrol car. This was when her dash cam lost coverage. But this video caught more, like a second camera on a movie set. This time Becky could be seen marching toward where the two men had disappeared.
The sheriff stopped the video and pointed to a part with the tip of his pen. “What are you doing here?”
“Um—” she stared at the computer screen until it went blurry “—I’m raising my baton.”
“What did you do with your baton?” The sheriff moved the pen away from the screen and covered the mouse with the palm of his hand. He clicked on Play. On the video, she was commanding that they stop.
Who? Her fellow officer? The man getting beat?
She blinked rapidly. “I needed to help...” The next word got caught in her throat. Did she need to help Ned? Her fellow officer? Or had she been determined to save the young Amish man?
“Who were you going to help, Deputy Spoth?” He hit Pause again.
Becky sat ramrod straight on the edge of her seat and squared her shoulders. She had the answer. The question was easy, right? “I had to stop the fight. I had to get the driver safely into custody and away from Deputy Reich. The situation had turned out of control.”
“Would you say you’d do whatever it took to stop the fight?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.” She flinched, then turned to stare at the screen, her digital form frozen with an anguished expression on her face. Becky may have been fairly naive because of her upbringing, but she studied people, knew how to respond. She was a quick learner and she wasn’t going to allow the sheriff to get her to say something that could jeopardize her career.
The sheriff clicked Play. Video Becky walked authoritatively toward Reich’s patrol car. She could be seen with her baton raised. To hit someone? Then she saw nothing.
On the video, someone muttered and then gravel came into view as the person took off running through what looked to be cornfields while still recording on their phone. Then the video came to a quick stop and the screen went black.
“I don’t understand.” A hot flush of dread blanketed her skin.
The sheriff sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. It groaned under his weight. “This video was submitted to Deputy Reich’s lawyer.”
“Who?” The single word came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat. “Who turned it in? Why not turn it in to the department?”
“We’re working on that. The lawyer said it was from an anonymous source. The witness claims you hit Elijah Lapp on the head with your baton, thus ending the fight and potentially leading to the young Amish man’s cracked skull.”
Cold dread washed over her and she thought she was going to be sick. “Wait...what? No. That’s not...” The memories of that day were disjointed, but she didn’t hit Elijah. No way.
“Deputy Spoth,” the sheriff said in a soothing voice, but she was having none of it.
“This is all a misunderstanding. I didn’t hit anyone with my baton. I used it to pry the men apart. That’s why I had the baton out.” It was all coming back to her now in a flood of formerly suppressed memories. Or was she grasping for
