When Timothy showed up at my office at four o’clock, I leapt from my office chair, never so glad to end a work day in my life.
He grinned at my reaction. “Ready to go?”
I nodded and started to gather my things.
Miller and Clark sat at the conference table again, in the middle of inventorying the college’s media equipment. Miller told me earlier in the afternoon that one of the digital camcorders was bad, and I asked him to try to fix it. The camcorder lay in pieces on the table. I frowned at the mess. If Miller was unsuccessful, the camcorder was yet another item I would have to find the money for in my withering budget.
Clark shook a kink out of a USB cord. “Hey, man,” he said to Timothy. “How’s the college’s barn coming?”
“We should be done by the end of the day tomorrow.”
Joel poked his scowling face out of his cubicle. “You would probably have finished earlier had you not been distracted.”
Timothy frowned and tilted his head at Joel, but didn’t retaliate.
Clark shot a look up at the ceiling. “Don’t mind Joel. He got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
“Every morning,” Miller muttered into the camcorder parts in front of him.
I grabbed Timothy’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go.”
When we were in the hallway, Timothy paused. “What was that all about?”
“Bad day. I can’t talk about it here, though.”
Mabel jumped up from the cement walkway in front of Dennis when she saw us coming. Timothy slapped his thigh. “Come, Mabel.”
She trotted over, her black plume of a tail wagging happily. She woofed at me, and I scratched her on the top of her head.
When we were in Timothy’s truck, he turned to me. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I groaned. “Budget cuts.” As he pulled out onto the street, I relayed the conversation I had with Dean Klink “And . . .”
“And what?” Timothy asked.
Mabel flopped her furry head over the bench seat, her mournful eyes staring up at me. She’d much rather have ridden shotgun.
I sighed and told him about Curt and Brock’s lunchtime visit.
Timothy jerked to a stop. “What?” He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Why didn’t you tell me about that right away?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I didn’t add that Joel had witnessed the whole thing and had done nothing. I don’t know why I protected him. He didn’t deserve it.
Timothy gunned the engine. “We have to go to the police station and report this.”
“No.” I crossed my arms, hugging myself. “They said they’d leave Becky alone if I didn’t go to the police.”
Timothy shook his head. “Guys like Brock and Curt don’t keep their promises, Chloe. Becky’s my sister. This is the best thing for her.” He paused. “And for you. The police need to have this incident on file in case something happens.”
“Something like what?”
“I don’t want to think about it.” His voice sounded gruff.
“Okay.” I slowed my breathing and gazed out the window. “I hope Chief Rose keeps it quiet though.”
Timothy gave a rueful laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
He shook his head, and again, I wondered how he knew Appleseed Creek’s police chief.
Timothy drove around the square, quiet on this Monday afternoon except for a few tourists strolling around, visiting the Amish shops. He turned into the parking lot behind town hall. Unlike Saturday when I had visited there with Chief Rose, the parking lot was almost full. Village officials were on the job. Timothy backed his truck into a space between a low-hanging buckeye tree and an SUV.
Mabel nudged my shoulder with her head, and I felt a twinge of pain. I pressed a hand to my left shoulder and rubbed the beginnings of a bruise.
Timothy scrutinized my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Brock pinched my shoulder. I’m sure it’s just a bruise.”
He gasped. “Let me see that.”
Gently, Timothy tugged my shirt collar away from my neck. My breath caught as he touched me just above my clavicle bone. Unlike Curt’s, the sensation of Timothy’s breath on my neck soothed me. What time did this happen?” he asked.
“Noon.” My voice came out like a squeak. I shivered.
He pulled away and smoothed my collar back down.
I began to breathe again.
Timothy’s forehead creased. “It’s already turning purple. You will have to show that to Chief Rose.” He opened the cabin door. “They should have some ice inside too.”
Timothy and Mabel hopped out of the truck, and I followed. Inside the police station, a woman with snow white hair and a cameo pin that held together the collar of her blouse greeted us. “Timothy, I haven’t seen you around here in a while. That’s a good thing.”
Mabel trotted over to the woman. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a dog biscuit. “There you go, sweets.”
Mabel ate the biscuit in one gulp and stared at the woman. “That’s all you get.” With a whine, Mabel lay down on the floor and put her head on her paws.
Why were Chief Rose’s receptionist and Mabel old friends? I glanced at Timothy, but he kept his gaze ahead.
“Hi, Fern. We’d like to talk to Chief Rose, please,” Timothy said.
“She’s out in the field.” She smiled at him. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes.” Timothy stepped up to her desk. “We’d like to file a complaint in conjunction with the Glick case.”
Fern sat up straighter. “Officer Nottingham is here and can talk to you. Have a seat.” She picked up her circa 1980 black phone and punched in a number.
Timothy and I sat on plastic chairs, and after about three minutes, I wished for a seat cushion. At least the uncomfortable seat kept my mind off my shoulder, which kept my mind off Timothy examining my shoulder. I’m sure he does the same thing for his siblings when they get hurt. That’s what big brothers do.
Minutes later, a boy about a year older than Becky stepped into the waiting room. “Mr. Troyer. Miss Humphrey. Can you follow me?”
He opened the door to the room where I’d examined the mug shots on Saturday. Had that really only been two days ago?
“I’m Officer Nottingham,” the boy, or rather, the police officer said when we were seated. “Fern said this had something to do with the Glick case.”
I nodded. “It’s related.”
Timothy squeezed my elbow. “Tell him what you told me.”
I took a deep breath and told him everything.
Officer Nottingham took furious notes. “I’ll tell Chief Rose all of this. She will most likely want to talk to you.”
I bet she will.
The boy-officer’s mouth was a grim line. “Can I see the bruise?”
I pulled the collar of my crewneck shirt away from my throat to reveal the bruise forming on top of my shoulder. Officer Nottingham examined it from across the table. “There are definite finger marks there.” He made another note. “I’m going to need to take a photograph of it. Be right back.” He stood and slipped through the inner office door.”
I curled my lip. “Is this really necessary, Timothy?”
“Yes.” Timothy’s eyes were soft. “I’m taking every step to protect you.”
Before I could respond, Officer Nottingham came back with an SLR digital camera. He circled me like a scientist inspecting a bug and took shots of my shoulder from every angle. After the fifteenth shot, I smoothed my shirt collar back into place. “I think you got it.”
He set the camera on the conference table. “Miss Humphrey, would you like to file an official complaint?”
Timothy started to nod, but I smacked one hand on the table. “No.”
“I think you should,” Timothy said.
But maybe Curt and Brock will leave Becky alone if I leave them alone. “I appreciate you documenting this, Officer, but I’m not filing a complaint.”
Officer Nottingham ran a hand back and forth through his boyish hair. “I’ll let the chief know. She’s not going to agree with your decision.”
Timothy shook his head slowly, his voice a murmur. “And neither do I.”