“Um, yeah.” Heat fired in her cheeks as she smiled meekly and jabbed her thumb in the general direction of where she’d climbed out of the tow truck. “Someone ran me off the road.”
His brow furrowed. “Did he stop?”
“At first, but he took off once I got out of the vehicle.”
Harrison looked like he was going to say more when Becky heard a stern voice calling her name.
“Looks like the sheriff’s looking for me.”
The corners of her fellow deputy’s lips turned down. “Don’t let me hold you up.”
Reflexively, Becky checked her collar, making sure her uniform was in place. Sheriff Thomas Landry tapped the door frame before disappearing back inside his office. No deputy made the sheriff call them twice.
Becky forced a cheery demeanor for Anne Wagner, the sheriff’s administrative assistant, as she passed. They had been peers before Becky had finished her training and become a deputy. Anne raised her eyebrows and returned a smile, a cross between friendship and I hope everything’s okay. No one liked to be on the new sheriff’s bad side. He had only been elected six months ago, and by all accounts, he was tough. All his officers toed the line or paid the price.
Exhibit one: Deputy Ned Reich, the deputy Becky had testified against.
“Good morning, Sheriff.” Becky lingered in the doorway, hoping this would be a quick chat along the lines of “How was your first day back?”
“You’ve had better mornings, I’m sure,” the sheriff responded, his tone calm and even. In the short time she had worked with him, he seemed unflappable. As cool as his demeanor in the ubiquitous political commercials that littered the airways: “Vote for me, Thomas Landry, for sheriff. The kind of transparent leader Quail Hollow needs.” The department was still trying to reshape its image after one of their own had been convicted in a twenty-year-old murder of a young Amish mother.
“Yes, but it’s all part of the job,” she said. “Anyone find the car?”
“We haven’t located the vehicle that ran you off the road yet, but everyone has the description.”
“It was hard to see. Sedan. Early model. Maybe a B in the license plate. Isn’t very descriptive, I know, but it was dark.”
He waved his hand. “Glad you’re okay. Probably some punk on a dare. Turns out the call to Robin Nest was a dead end, too.” He shook his head. “Like we have nothing better to do than respond to crank calls.”
“You think someone was dared to play chicken with a patrol car?” Becky asked in disbelief.
The sheriff leaned back and crossed his arms. “Or someone had too much to drink. Or maybe someone thought our country roads would make a great speedway. Easy to lose control.” He shrugged. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Still standing in the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. The deputies were still wandering in for the start of the day shift. “I’m not exactly the most popular person around here.” But how could she suggest that one of her fellow deputies might be out to get her without sounding paranoid, or at the very least, like someone who wasn’t a team player?
The moment to offer a possible culprit passed and the sheriff gestured at her to come farther into his office. “Close the door.”
Becky’s heart sank. Close the door. Nothing good was ever said behind closed doors, unless it involved a raise or a promotion, neither of which she was in line for.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” the sheriff said.
“Bad news?” What more could possibly go wrong?
Sitting behind his mahogany desk, the sheriff forced a tight smile and held his hand out to Becky. “Have a seat.”
Becky wanted to refuse the seat, hoping that whatever he had to tell her could be said while she was standing, but her knees felt warm and wobbly. Swallowing hard, she moved around to the front of the chair and lowered herself into the seat as he requested. “What’s going on?” She hoped her crossed ankles, hands politely folded on her lap and her square shoulders exuded outward confidence. Inside she felt like puking.
The sheriff tapped the pads of his fingers together and seemed to be looking right through her, as if collecting his thoughts. “I know you’ve been having a hard time since the Elijah Lapp incident.”
“Yes.” Short of leaving her Amish family, the past week had been the hardest of her life. When she took the oath to uphold the law, she never thought it would include 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