by Alison Stone
Christina tugged again on her seat belt as it tightened across her midsection. She really needed air. Food. Something.
As if reading her mind, Dylan said, “Let’s stop at the diner and get something to eat. You look a little shaky.”
A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips. “Just what a girl wants to hear.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. I just...” He let his words trail off. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“Ha.” That’s what her mother had always told her: You work too hard. Christina wasn’t exactly sure what her mother knew about taking it easy. Her parents had been entrepreneurs and world travelers for Christina’s entire life.
Then a realization slammed into Christina. “Poor Georgia. I’ve left her at the clinic all day. I texted her before I left for Ben’s, but I never thought I’d be gone this long. I haven’t been thinking straight.” She dug her cell phone out of her purse and called the clinic. Georgia answered on the second ring.
“All quiet,” Georgia assured Christina. “I can handle things. Why don’t you take the day off?”
“Day off?” Christina laughed as if the notion was ridiculous. “I’ll be—”
Dylan reached over and raised his voice to be heard over the phone. “A day off is a great idea.”
Christina playfully punched his shoulder and gave him a pointed glare, but she couldn’t maintain her feigned annoyance. She smiled in response to his smile. The smell of his aftershave tickled her nose. “Are you sure, Georgia?”
“I’d be honored if you trusted me enough to run the clinic on my own.”
“I do.” And that was the truth. Georgia had only worked there for a short time, but Christina had grown to rely on the young physician assistant. As the supervising physician, Christina would review the files of any patients, but there was no reason she had to be in the office. “Thank you. See you in the morning. And please call me if you need anything.”
“Sounds good.”
Christina ended the call and tossed the phone back into her purse. “I guess I’m free for dinner.”
“Does the diner sound good?”
Christina’s stomach growled. “Only if it includes apple pie.”
“With a side of ice cream.”
“À la mode?”
“That’s what you fancy people call it. Just give me a couple scoops of vanilla on the side.” He laughed, but kept his focus on the road ahead of him. Oh, she had missed that laugh. Inwardly she shook her head. She would allow herself to share a meal with this man, but nothing else. She refused to risk her heart.
* * *
Dylan held the door of the Apple Creek Diner open for Christina, but before she went in, the general store across the street caught her eye. Butterflies flitted in her stomach and her mouth went dry.
“Do you think your pie and ice cream can wait a few minutes?” Christina asked, tilting her chin toward Apple Creek General Store. She hoped using humor would ease her growing panic.
“You want to see if Ben’s working?”
“You read my mind.”
His smile lit up his face. “I wish it was always this easy.”
She tipped her head, not wanting to get sidetracked. “Maybe Ben can finally tell us if he saw Roger at the party last night.”
“You’re not going to let your brother investigate?”
“Let my brother investigate. I want to talk to Ben for a minute. That’s all.” She bowed her head. “I can’t help but think my silence put other women in jeopardy.”
“That’s a big leap. Even if Ben did see Roger last night, it doesn’t mean Roger did anything wrong. He owns the property. He’d have an excuse for being there.” Dylan let the door of the diner close and they remained outside.
Christina shook her head in disbelief. “If Ben does recognize him, it wouldn’t make sense for Roger not to have admitted to me this morning that he was there.” Christina lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, glancing across the street. She figured a person never knew who was listening. “It would have been safer. He could have claimed he was breaking up a party. It would have made sense. But he acted surprised that there was a party on his property at all.”
Dylan touched her arm. “Sure, let’s go to the general store.”
Christina ran a hand across her forehead, hoping to smooth the headache that was pulsing behind her eyes. “I know. It doesn’t make sense.” She tucked her hands under her arms and rolled up on the balls of her feet. “Really, I can’t see Roger smashing my car, because it would only cause more problems for him.” Her stomach dropped and her headache grew. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, before you drive yourself crazy.”
They walked across the street. Before they got to the store, Dylan came up behind her. “Hold on.”
Christina turned around. “What?” She tried to hide her apprehension behind her curt reply.
“We have to be cautious on how we approach this.”
“Help me out then. You’re the FBI agent.”
She thought she noticed him blanch. “I’m on leave.”
“You never told me why that was.” She imagined he had gotten bored. Like he had with her.
“You never asked.”
She studied him, unable to read his expression. “You’re right. But I suppose you’ll have to share that story with me another time.”
“Fair enough.”
Christina pulled open the door and the bells clacking against the glass jangled her brain.
An Amish man in a wide-brimmed hat sat behind the counter, watching them with bored disinterest. “Can I help you?” The man’s words had the familiar Pennsylvania Dutch accent.
“Is Ben working today?”
“Ben Reist? Yah, he came in. He’s in the back.”
“What time did he start his shift?”
The Amish man gave her a curious glance from under the brim of his hat. “And you are?”
“I’m Dr. Christina Jennings.” She took a chance on the truth. In her heart she felt Ben had gotten himself caught up in a bad situation, but she had to find out if he had seen Roger Everett in the barn before Naomi was potentially drugged.
A crash sounded from the back room. Christina moved toward it, but the Amish man held up his hand. “Hold on. We don’t allow customers back there.”
Christina’s heartbeat raced and she spun around and pleaded silently with Dylan. He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
Dylan hustled out the door, and she had to run to keep up. “Where are you going? Ben’s in the back.”
“Ben’s running out the back door.”
“Oh!” Christina pulled her hand out of Dylan’s. “Run! Go, don’t let me slow you down.”
Dylan gave her a sideways glance before she hollered at him to “Go, go, go.” He’d get farther if she wasn’t holding him back. She wasn’t much of a runner.
She watched as Dylan slipped between the buildings, down a narrow alley. She inched toward the alley, but the dark shadows made her pause.
She hated that she had become afraid again. Feet rooted in place, she waited on the front walk listening for the sound of running or shouting.
Anything.
The silence unnerved her.
Then, the clip-clop-clip of a horse’s hooves drew her attention. An elderly gentleman and his wife coasted past in a buggy. The Amish man tipped his hat toward her.
The door on the general store swung open and the bells clattered against the glass. The Amish clerk came through the door holding Ben firmly by the arm. Christina widened her eyes in surprise. “I thought you ran out the back.”
The Amish man tipped his head toward the alley. “Apparently so did your friend. But Ben tripped over a few boxes on his way out.” He stared at him poi
ntedly. “You are going to have to red up the room.”
Ben nodded, a look of apology on his face. The clerk let go of the young man’s arm and watched him as if he were a puppy in training and likely to dart into a busy intersection. “You wanted to talk to him? Then talk. Make it fast, he has a mess to clean up.”
Christina glanced toward the alley, wondering when Dylan would realize Ben hadn’t made his escape out the back door. Her mind raced with all the things she wanted to ask the boy. But not in front of his employer. She didn’t believe in causing Ben any unnecessary issues. She had heard from more than one source that he had plans for college this fall. Just because her parents had footed the bill for her education didn’t mean she wasn’t sympathetic to those who worked hard to earn scholarships and money to do it on their own.
After the silence had stretched another unbearable minute, Dylan appeared, his chest heaving from the exertion. He shook his head slowly in disbelief when he noticed Ben standing on the sidewalk.
“We need to talk to you now,” Dylan said with the authority of an FBI agent. He turned to the clerk. “We’ll send him in when we’re done.”
The man tipped his hat and shrugged before going back inside the store. Christina figured that was the most excitement the Amish man had probably seen in a long time.
Dylan was the first to speak. “You realize you almost ran over Dr. Jennings last night in the parking lot of the clinic?”
Ben bent his head and toed the crack in the cement with his black sneaker. He finally lifted his head, the first sign of fear crossing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I panicked.”
“Why?”
“Naomi. Is she okay?” Ben’s eyes flashed bright, scanning the street behind them.
“I can’t discuss a patient,” Christina said with a calmer voice than she actually felt. “But don’t worry,” she added, feeling compassionate.
“Why did you bolt?” Dylan asked, his tone far more stern than hers. “Why didn’t you stay and make sure she was okay?”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble. I...” Ben seemed to be studying Dylan, trying to figure out the role he played in this mess... “I saw the truck approaching. I figured it was the doctor. The sign on the door said the doctor would be back shortly.” He turned to Christina. “I didn’t see you. I’m sorry. I was trying to get out of there before someone blamed me for Naomi’s condition.”
Then Ben’s face grew hard and he squared his shoulders. In a flash, he turned into a belligerent teenager. “Why do I have to tell you?”
Dylan stepped forward. Too bad he had given up his FBI badge, because Christina had no doubt he’d made an imposing agent.
Why had he walked away? Twenty-four hours ago, she’d claimed she didn’t care what had brought him to Apple Creek. Told herself she had no reason to care.
Now her curiosity was growing. What had really brought him here?
“You want to play it that way?” Dylan pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. “Let’s give Deputy Jennings a call. He’d be interested to know you tried to run down his sister.”
Ben’s hands flew up in a defensive gesture and immediately he seemed contrite again. “No, please.”
“Tell us what’s going on,” Christina said, using a coaxing tone.
Ben leaned back and planted the sole of his sneaker on the brick storefront. He hung his head and muttered something unintelligible.
“Speak up,” Dylan said, obviously losing patience.
Ben’s head snapped up. “I’m not sticking around Apple Creek. I have plans to go to college in Buffalo this fall.” His foot slammed down on the sidewalk and he pushed away from the wall. “I was picked up last month for underage drinking. I got it dismissed in court as long as I don’t get in trouble again for the next twelve months.” He lifted his shoulders to his ears. Suddenly he looked much younger than his seventeen or eighteen years. “I shouldn’t have gone to that stupid party.”
“You took a chance by bringing Naomi to the clinic. You didn’t have to do that.” Christina felt like she and Dylan were playing good cop, bad cop. She came naturally to the role of good cop.
Ben nodded. “My sister is friends with the girl who was attacked in the apartment off Main Street. My sister knows I’m going away to college and she told me to look out for my friends.” His lips flattened into a thin line. “I was looking out for Naomi. We used to hang out a bit. She was pretty cool for an Amish girl. I was kinda surprised she was at the party. I heard she was making plans to be baptized.” He rubbed his forehead. “It was strange she showed up in her Amish clothes. Usually, she’d wear jeans and a T-shirt.” He shrugged.
“How did you know Naomi?”
“Through Cheryl. She’s in my grade.” Ben ran a hand over his short hair. “It’s not unusual for us townies to have Amish friends. It’s a small town. Some of those Amish teenagers are more wild than my other friends. I think they’re getting it out of their system before they get baptized.”
“Perhaps,” Christina said, unwilling to comment one way or another. She had seen a lot in her years in Apple Creek, too. People were people. Good and bad.
Ben looked up with wary eyes. “My windshield wipers are brutal. I really should get new ones. I didn’t see you in the parking lot until the last minute. Honest. I’m sorry.”
Christina nodded. “I’m fine.”
Dylan muttered something under his breath.
Christina ignored Dylan. “You did the right thing by bringing Naomi to the clinic.”
Ben dragged a hand across his mouth. “She’s okay?”
“You’ll have to reach out to her, but—” Christina smiled “—you did the right thing. Just be more cautious when you’re behind the wheel.”
“Get new wipers,” Dylan added. “And if you ever do something like that again—and I hope you don’t—don’t drive off. Stop and deal with the situation. That advice will serve you well in life.”
Ben swallowed hard and nodded. “I will, sir. I’m really sorry.”
Ben tipped his head toward the door of the general store. “Can I go back to work? I don’t want to lose this job. I need the money for college.”
“One more thing.” Christina dug into her purse and pulled out her smartphone. She opened a social media app and entered Roger Everett’s name. A few more clicks and she had his image on the screen. With a shaky hand, she held the phone up to Ben. “Do you recognize this man?”
Ben scrunched up his face. “Maybe he’s been in the store?” The statement came out more as a question.
“Did you see him at the party?”
Ben pointed at the screen and his face contorted into a look of disbelief. “That dude? He’s, like, old.”
A man in his thirties wasn’t exactly old.
“The party was a bunch of kids. Teenagers. Maybe a few guys in their twenties.” Ben shook his head. “But not him.”
“Okay.” Christina looked over at Dylan. The expression on his face was unreadable.
“If you think of anything else, call me at this number.” Dylan scribbled his number on the back of his FBI card and handed it to him.
Ben did a double take and chewed on his thumbnail. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
Christina reached out and touched his arm. “When you go to college, keep looking out for your friends, okay? And treat women with respect.”
“Yeah, yeah, I will.” Ben flicked a glance in Dylan’s direction before slipping back into the store.
Christina turned to Dylan, not knowing what to think. “Was I too easy on him?”
Dylan smiled. “No. I think he’s a good kid who happens to be a bad driver. If it hadn’t been for him, Naomi may have ended up in a far worse position.”
Christina’s stomach pitched.
How many times had sh
e thought of how she could have been hurt much worse when Roger attacked her?
FIVE
Over the next few days, Dylan and Christina got into an easy routine. He picked her up at home, dropped her off at the clinic and picked her up again at the end of the night. Some nights they ate together at the diner, other nights Christina begged off, claiming she was tired. He never knew which Christina he was going to get, but he’d take whatever she was willing to offer. Spending time with her had gotten him out of his head. Out of the nightmare that haunted his restless sleep.
Their conversations never ventured into the personal, mostly circling around the weather, his upcoming classes and the lack of leads on who may have drugged Naomi.
Mostly polite conversation.
It was midafternoon, and Dylan decided to head toward his apartment, dropping off some pie for his landlady, Mrs. Greene. He had a little time before he picked up Christina. A part of him hoped she never replaced her car, because the more time Dylan spent with Christina, the more time he wanted to spend with her. It made him feel like he did back during his college days. Full of hope. Fearless. Excited.
But the events of the past nine months had knocked the wind out of his sails. He’d come to Apple Creek to get his head on straight. And his connections with the university helped land him a job here.
The sleepy little town had never been his dream. He had always wanted to be an FBI agent in a big city. Once he cleared his head—if he cleared his head—he hoped he’d be able to go back.
He’d have to be careful not to hurt Christina, but he’d enjoy each moment while he could.
Dylan reached his apartment in a neat house on the edge of town. Mrs. Greene was sitting on the screened-in porch drinking tea.
Her voice floated out. “I thought this was your break between college terms. You’re gone more now than when you were teaching a full slate of classes.”
“Ah, well...” Dylan said noncommittally.
Mrs. Greene stood and pushed open the screen door. “Come have some tea with me.” As if anticipating his refusal, she waved her hands and didn’t meet his eyes. “You won’t deny an old lady, now, will you?”
