Mabel barked a greeting and her black plume of a tail wagged at a frantic pace. Despite the gloomy autumn skies heavy with the promise of snow, Chief Rose wore her aviator sunglasses. “Long time no see.”
I linked arms with Becky. “That’s a good thing.” My young friend began to shiver, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold.
The chief removed her sunglasses and appraised Becky with her peculiar peridot-colored eyes. Today, they were surrounded by purple eyeliner. The chief’s penchant for eyeliner was her one glint of femininity. Aside from the eye makeup, she was all business. “How’s it going with your probation officer?”
“Fine.” Becky stepped closer to her brother, pulling me along with her. “Did he say something was wrong?”
“No. According to Fisher, you are a model ward. He wishes he had twelve of you instead of the typical yahoos he gets saddled with.” She placed a hand on her gun belt. “How do you like your community service at the after-school arts program?”
“I’m enjoying it,” Becky said. “The children are great, and several are very talented.”
Becky was on probation and completing court-appointed community service for driving without a license and getting into an automobile accident with an Amish buggy during the summer. She totaled my car in the process. Although the accident wasn’t her fault—the brake line had been cut—it resulted in the death of Isaac’s father, the Amish district’s Bishop Glick.
“I’m glad. You have a site visit Tuesday.” Chief Rose said this not as a question but a statement of fact. Clearly, she had been checking up on Becky.
Becky squeezed my arm. “Yes. Officer Fisher will be visiting the school and observing my interaction with the children.”
“Good, and you have plans for when you complete your community service?”
Becky licked her lips. “I think I would like to teach art. Working with the kids has been so much fun—even more fun than working on my own paintings.”
“That’s a good plan,” the chief said. “However, when you have a record, being a teacher is easier said than done.”
Becky’s face fell, and I resisted the urge to kick the police chief in the shins for discouraging her. I almost had Becky convinced to take the GED so she could apply to college to get the certification she needed to teach art.
I chimed in. “Becky’s making great progress on her hours.”
Becky pulled mittens from her pockets and slipped them onto her small hands all the while keeping her arm linked through mine. “My service should be completed early next year.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Timothy shifted his feet. “You’re here to talk to Becky about her PO?” His tone was doubtful.
“I like to check in with my citizens.” The chief blew on her bare hands. “I’m glad you all finally came out. My toes feel like ice cubes. Snow’s in the forecast for Thanksgiving. Leave your turkey outside. It will stay frozen.”
“Greta . . .” Timothy eyed her warily.
She set her sunglasses back on her nose. “Curt Fanning and Brock Buckley are back on the street.”
My heart skipped a beat. Curt and Brock were the guys who harassed the Appleseed Creek Amish community last summer, which ultimately led to Becky’s accident and Bishop Glick’s death. “What? How is that possible?”
Becky grabbed my hand. The wool of her mitten felt rough against my palm.
“Turns out, Curt Fanning’s uncle was up to more trouble than his shenanigans in Knox County. The FBI’s been investigating his shady business dealings for years, and they cut a deal with Fanning and Buckley to testify against him. The end result is the uncle spends life in federal prison, and Fanning and Buckley walk.”
I shivered. Curt Fanning’s drawn face, dirty goatee, and tobacco-stained teeth came to mind, followed closely by Brock Buckley’s deceptive baby face.
“Do you think they would come back here?” Becky asked.
The chief tucked a short, brown curl behind her ear. “Hard to tell, but I don’t see them going anywhere else. My officers are on the lookout for any sign of them.”
Timothy’s jaw twitched. “How long have they been out?”
“Two weeks.” She frowned. “I found out yesterday. Suddenly, it occurred to the county sheriff I might want to know about it.”
“We haven’t seen them.” Becky let go of me and wrapped her long, thin arms about her waist. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“Could be. But then again maybe they’re getting their act together before they come looking for you. Remember you and Chloe are the reason they went to prison. They are not your biggest fans.” Chief Rose clicked her teeth. “My advice would be to watch your backs.”
I shivered. “Are they driving the same truck?” My mind conjured up the image of a rusted green pickup that stalked Becky and me during the summer.
Chief Rose’s brow shot up. “You mean that beat-up green pickup? Yes, as far as I know. According to the BMV, it’s the only vehicle registered in Curt’s name.”
Timothy scratched Mabel behind the ear, and the dog leaned into his caress. “They can’t possibly be dumb enough to bother the girls.”
The chief pushed away from the truck and stood up straight. “I’ve learned not to underestimate the stupidity of criminals, and Fanning and Buckley do not have a reputation for being the brightest.” She met each of our eyes in turn. “You see them, you call me.” With that, she sauntered to her black-and-white police cruiser.
Timothy scowled as he watched the cruiser turn out of the church’s lot. “The court shouldn’t have released them.”
I silently agreed. “We’ll all be on the lookout for them like Chief Rose said. Chances are they will leave us alone.”
“Not if they want revenge,” Becky whispered.
I shot Timothy a look, then nodded at his sister, who looked like she was about to be sick.
Timothy frowned. “Let’s not talk about them anymore. I hope you two will come with me tonight to Young’s. Ellie Young has planned a killer menu.”
Young’s Family Kitchen was a favorite. I cocked my head. “Aren’t the flea market and restaurant closed on Sundays?”
“Normally, yes.” Timothy wrapped his plaid scarf more tightly around his neck. “Tonight is a meal for the men working on the pavilions. Ellie asked us each to bring guests. You know she will have more than enough food for everyone.”
A smile broke out on Becky’s solemn face. “Will she have pie?”
“This is Ellie we’re talking about.” He tweaked her white-blonde braid. “Of course she will have pie.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Will you come?”
I smiled. “How can we turn down one of Ellie’s meals?”
Becky and Timothy shared identical grins, the similarities between brother and sister almost startling.
“Great,” Timothy said. “I’ll drop you at home now and pick you up around four. I have some errands to run this afternoon.”
As Timothy drove us home, I stared out the window, looking for Curt’s green pickup.