Alison Stone - Plain Threats

The professor nodded. “Rebecca returned home and saw someone running out the back door.”

“Anything taken?” the sheriff asked.

“Not that I can see.” Rebecca ran her hands down the skirt of her long dress. The professor’s watchful gaze unnerved her.

“Where’s Samuel?” the sheriff asked, glancing around.

Rebecca’s eyes grew wide. “He’s not home.” She couldn’t help but bristle.

“Do you know where your son is?”

“It wasn’t Samuel, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wouldn’t have run away from me.” Did she know that for sure? Hadn’t he been moving away from her for months? She swallowed hard. “Samuel’s a young man. I don’t need to keep track of his every move.” Yet that’s exactly what she had hoped to do by contacting the professor.

The sheriff nodded, as if he were considering this. “If nothing has been taken, I’ll write up a report and keep an eye out for any suspicious people wandering around tonight. Make sure you keep your doors locked.”

Rebecca nodded again, feeling queasy. Many residents of Apple Creek had added locks to their doors after the tragic murder of her friend and neighbor. The locks had been useless in keeping the murderer out of her home. Rebecca had been married to him.

“There’s another thing, Sheriff,” the professor said.

Rebecca spun around and glared at him.

“Rebecca was almost attacked on campus. I’m afraid if I hadn’t come along when I had, she would have been hurt.”

She wanted to deny this, but...she couldn’t. Nervous tingles danced up her arms. In one fell swoop, she had brought two outsiders into her life: the professor and the sheriff. She closed her eyes briefly. If Samuel got wind of this, he’d distance himself further.

She’d lose him forever.

“What happened?” Sheriff Maxwell asked.

Rebecca explained the glass on the lamppost exploding above her head and the man advancing on her. Icy dread pumped through her veins as she finished the story.

“Do you think this is tied to the previous harassment?”

Rebecca lowered her gaze and heat infused her cheeks. The sheriff had been out to her farm after the graffiti and egg-throwing incidents, even though Samuel had begged her not to call the police. He claimed it would only aggravate the situation. But Rebecca had feared for her family’s safety. Someone had to stop them. But no one had. The perpetrators were never found. So Rebecca had stopped bothering the sheriff. Eventually things died down, until recently.

“Have you had any interactions at the diner that made you feel uncomfortable?” the sheriff asked, his tone compassionate.

“It’s quiet at the diner this time of year, mostly college students and locals.” She cut a sideways glance to the professor, wishing she could read his mind.

“You’ve had some help on the farm?”

Rebecca glanced up to find the sheriff studying her closely.

“Yes, Uri and Jonas Yoder. They’ve been a tremendous help. We wouldn’t be able to farm the land without them.”

“Any chance it was either of them in your house tonight?”

“Neh...” Her tone was less than confident, but she hoped the sheriff didn’t pick up on it. She needed the Yoder brothers to harvest the crops. They were the sons of a well-respected Amish couple with ten children. They had been happy to offer their sons to help her in her time of need in exchange for minimal pay.

“Rebecca, if you think of anything else, you know where to reach me,” the sheriff said.

She nodded.

The sheriff headed toward the door, then turned back again. “Hannah and I would love to have you over to the house for dinner. The girls would love to play with Katie and Grace.”

Rebecca folded her hands in front of her. “That would be nice.” For her daughters. For her, seeing Hannah brought back painful memories. Rebecca’s husband had killed Hannah’s sister and brother-in-law, leaving Hannah to care for her two nieces in Apple Creek, separate from the Amish community. Rebecca and Hannah had been dear friends as children, a lifetime ago.

A stomping sound on the porch drew all eyes to the door. Rebecca’s heart sank. Samuel burst into the house. Under his broad-brimmed straw hat shadowing his eyes, she had a hard time discerning if he was angry or afraid.

Samuel took off his hat and ran his hand over his blunt-cut hair. “What’s going on?”

The more her son hung around with the youngie , the more he sounded like an Englisher. It was as if the young Amish were all trying to shed their Amish roots.

“When I came home someone was in the house.”

Samuel’s gaze wandered to the stairs, perhaps thinking of his bedroom.

Oh, Samuel, please talk to me.

“Who was it?” Samuel’s words were clipped.

“I don’t know. He ran out the back. Did one of your friends stop by?”

Samuel scratched his head, leaving a tuft of hair sticking up. “Neh.” Glancing at the sheriff, then the professor, he lowered his gaze. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ll stop by the Yoder farm. See if the young men are home,” the sheriff said.

Samuel’s eyes grew wide. “ Neh . Mem , why would you bring these outsiders here? Don’t we have enough trouble being accepted among our neighbors after what Willard did?” He used his father’s given name to distance himself. What son wanted to admit his father was a murderer?

Rebecca’s knees grew weak. “My son is right. That will only stir up more trouble. The Yoders are gut boys.”

The sheriff hesitated a fraction, as if he were thinking it over. He then clapped Samuel’s shoulder. “Good to see you, son. Keep an eye out for your mem here and be sure to call me if you guys see anything suspicious.” The sheriff was savvy enough to know most of the youngie carried cell phones during Rumspringa. It was frowned upon, but the elders turned a blind eye to it, hoping the young people would bend a knee when the time came.

“Good night, Sheriff,” Rebecca said, eager to see him leave.

She closed the door behind him, then rested her backside against it. “Is everything okay, Samuel?”

Her son narrowed his gaze at the professor. “Are you friends with my mem ?”

The professor seemed to be searching for the right thing to say. “I hope we can be.”

Samuel’s nose twitched as if he were trying to process the scene. Rebecca’s heart pulsed in her ears. She didn’t want to push Samuel away by revealing she had gone to the professor to try to exact information out of him.

Apparently sensing this, the professor spoke up. “I gave your mom a ride home.” An apologetic smile slanted his lips. He had told a lie of omission, obviously leading her son to believe he had given her a ride home from the diner. “Then all this craziness broke out.”

“Oh.” Samuel stared straight ahead, skepticism written on his face. “I’m going to bed.” He stomped up a few stairs before Rebecca called to him.

“Do you know anything about what happened here tonight?”

Samuel stopped without turning around. “How would I know? I wasn’t home.”

Rebecca caught the professor’s eye. Unease twisted her insides, worrying how far she’d push Samuel.

“You must be tired.”

Samuel nodded curtly. “ Yah , I’m going upstairs.” Samuel continued his stomp up the stairs like a petulant child. When he reached his room, he hollered down the stairs. “Who was in my room?” He thudded down the stairs, his chest heaving.

“I was in your room.” Rebecca approached the bottom of the stairs. “Where did you get all that stuff?” The walls of the house seemed to sway as she waited for the answer.