Even though Chief Rose had spoken to Dean Klink and gotten me a full day off of work, I headed to the office that afternoon. I couldn’t stay in my big rented house all by myself and stare at that pencil-drawn X on my living room wall. Becky was at Young’s all day, and then would head to the elementary school after work to help the teacher prepare for Tuesday afternoon’s art class. Timothy had gone to Young’s too, to work on the pavilion. Life went on despite the arrest of the three Amish girls.
Chief Rose called to tell me that she had already heard from CNN. The haircutting story received national attention as the newswire picked it up. The Amish way, foreign to the rest of the country, made today’s arrests sensational news. The police chief warned me not to talk to the press, and that was fine with me.
On campus, I stepped into the office, and found Clark at the conference table editing video of the college’s fall play on his laptop. “Hey boss, Klink told us that you weren’t coming in today. He said you dove into a frozen pond and saved a drowning child.”
I rolled my eyes. It came as no surprise that the dean’s version of the story was more sensational than the truth. I feared what he would make of the three Amish girls. “That’s not quite what happened.”
“You didn’t save someone?”
“I did, I guess, but it wasn’t a child. And I didn’t dive into a freezing pond.” I told him a shortened version of the story.
“Wow. I’m impressed, but the diving in the pond would have really kicked the story up a notch.”
“I’m sure it would. Where’s Miller?”
“He left about an hour ago. He got a phone call about some type of family emergency.”
I winced. I knew the nature of that emergency. “Did he say anything about it?”
“Nah. You know Miller. You have to use a crowbar to get anything out of him.”
The door to the computer services office opened, and Dean Klink entered with Collette Williams close at his heels.
“Chloe!” Dean Klink grinned from ear to ear. “I saw your car in the parking lot and called Collette right away.”
Clark hid a smirk behind his laptop screen.
“We need to jump on the good press you’ve created for the college.” Collette smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve.
“Good press?”
“Of course, by pulling that drowning Amish girl from the water, you’ve gotten media attention. This could get national media attention. I only need to confirm a few facts before I blast the press release to all the outlets.”
I held up my hand. “Wait, wait, wait. I didn’t pull an Amish girl from the water.”
Collette’s head jerked back. She turned to the dean. “Dean Klink, you said . . .”
The dean licked his lip. “Chloe can tell us what really happened.” To Collette, he said, “There still could be a story there.”
The dean and the publicist sat at the conference table. Clark didn’t move. No chance he was going to miss this show. I didn’t see a way out of it either. I sat and told them about yesterday’s event at Appleseed Pond. Carefully, I left Abby out of the story. I shivered to think what Collette would do when she learned about my involvement with the Amish haircutting.
Dean Klink smacked his hand on the conference table. “That’s still a great story. Excellent stuff. Poetic even.”
Collette’s face was pinched. “I’m disappointed no Amish were involved. Chloe, the Amish angle is something I planned to talk to you about.”
My brow shot up. The Amish angle?
Collette scribbled on a small leather-bound notebook. “The Amish are such a curiosity in the news and media right now that I believe the college should take more advantage of our proximity to them. We should advertise our ties and closeness to the Amish culture. It may attract students.”
Clark coughed to cover a laugh. “You think American teenagers are going to choose to go to Harshberger because there are Amish nearby?”
Collette pointed the end of her pen at him. “Our best strategy in this tough academic market is to highlight our uniqueness. Our location makes us unique. Harshberger is located in a bucolic countryside. Parents see it as a quiet and safe place to send their children.”
Clark only shook his head. “Discounting the fact we’ve had two murders in town in the last year.”
Collette glared at him and turned her pen on me. “Chloe, the dean has told me about the close relationship you have with the Amish.”
I didn’t like where this was going. “I have Amish friends.”
“Perfect. In addition to the one about you saving this guy, I want to write another article about you and your ties with the Amish. The college could receive some national attention on this.” She flattened both hands on the tabletop. “Did you hear there was an arrest for the haircutting this morning? Three Amish girls.”
I didn’t say anything but felt Clark watching me.
She smiled. “Stories like that will bring national attention to Appleseed Creek and to Harshberger.”
“National attention!” The dean beamed. “That would do a world of good for the college. It may even have an impact on enrollment. High school seniors are choosing colleges now, so now is the time to strike.”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t think the fact that there have been crimes within the Amish community will convince parents of college-aged kids to send their children to Harshberger.”
Collette tapped her pen on the table. “Perhaps not, but the most important thing is to keep Harshberger in the spotlight. Right now, our closeness with the Amish in Appleseed Creek is the best way to do that. Maybe we can do some kind of outreach to the Amish. I spoke to their mayor about it during the parade.” She pursed her lips. “I can’t say he was that receptive.”
Clark choked back a laugh. “Mayor?”
“I think you mean deacon,” I told the marketing director.
Clearly, Collette knew little about the Amish. I was much the same before moving to Appleseed Creek, but then again, I didn’t plan to use their culture for my own purposes. “For the most part, the Amish take care of themselves. They will resent any offer of help. Also, the Amish in Appleseed Creek are better off than some of the English residents.”
Collette looked unconvinced. She stood. “I need to write up this press release. Chloe, I trust you will do everything you can to promote the college. You need to think about what’s best for Harshberger.”
I gritted my teeth.
The dean beamed at Collette as they left the office.
Clark shook his head. “Boss, I think you might be in trouble with that lady.”
Unfortunately, I thought Clark might be right about that.
I went into my office and tried to concentrate on work for a few hours, but Collette and her plans for the Amish worried me. Finally, I couldn’t sit there any longer. I poked my head out of my doorway. “I’m going for a walk.”
Clark nodded and focused his attention back on his computer screen.
I headed to the stairwell and climbed to the second floor. I’d only been to this part of the building a handful of times. It housed the biology department, its classrooms, labs, and faculty offices. It was also the location of Dylan Tanner’s office. The drone of a lecturer speaking to a class of drowsy undergraduates echoed through the hallway. As the department chair, Dylan had a corner office, and I had to walk through his lab to reach it.
Black, shiny countertops covered the examination counters, and four-legged metal stools surrounded each work station. The lab was empty. A tank of tropical fish sat on a rolling cart, and frogs hopped around an atrium. I grimaced, hoping they weren’t headed for dissection.
Dylan’s office door was closed, and I sighed with relief. He wasn’t here. I didn’t know what made me come up and snoop around his space. I tried to shake off my curiosity, but it hung there, like a cloud. Again, I knocked on the door, needing to feel extra sure he wasn’t in the office. Nothing.
I turned to go, but at the last second, tried the doorknob. The office door swung open. Although the light was off, books and documents clearly covered every surface. The room felt cramped. I peered through windows to the outside where the sunlight had dimmed and softened to pink. It was almost five.
There was another fish tank in the office, this one housing a single blue and red Siamese fighting fish. The fish circled the tank like a shark. I sidestepped away. The keyboard of Dylan’s desktop computer was buried under a pile of glossy catalogs. They didn’t look like they were about biology. I crept closer to the desk and peered at one of the magazines.
The one on top was opened to a page about Civil War coins. Each listing included an up close, front and back shot of the coin and its current market value.
With a knot in my stomach, I glanced back at the fish. He swam three tight circles in the tank.