Plain Outsider. Alison Stone

       ONE

      The headlights on Deputy Becky Spoth’s patrol car illuminated the lines on the deserted country road. Some of her fellow deputies complained about the overnight shift, but Becky had grown to like it. There was something calming about patrolling the quiet roads devoid of cars or horses, or more important, people. It gave her a lot of time for quiet reflection while still providing a means to pay the mortgage. She appreciated her job now more than ever when just a few days ago she wondered if she’d ever be out on patrol again.

      That was the thing about this job. Things could change on a dime. The radio that had been silent most of her shift suddenly crackled to life as if to prove her point. “Report of a break-in on Robin Nest Road. How far away are you, Deputy Spoth?”

      She didn’t have to give the location a moment’s thought. She had grown up in Quail Hollow and knew all the windy roads and farms, even the ones the town didn’t see fit to mark. That was the thing about a small town. Everyone knew everything about everything and everyone.

      “I’m a mile out.” Despite a year as a deputy, her stomach bottomed out and her mouth grew dry. Would she ever get used to answering calls, especially alone at night? All the officers in the sheriff’s department traveled solo, but backup was usually only a moment away.

      Backup. More than once over the past couple weeks, she wished she hadn’t been the first to arrive to help Deputy Ned Reich subdue a young Amish man, an incident that had turned the sheriff’s department upside down.

      Had turned the small town of Quail Hollow, New York, upside down.

      Forcing the distracting thoughts out of her mind, Becky weighed the pros and cons of turning on the patrol car’s lights and siren. She didn’t want to give the possible intruder a heads-up that a sheriff’s deputy was on the way, a chance to get away. But she didn’t want to surprise some unsuspecting driver. She stretched across to the control panel. Flick. Lights. No siren.

      The engine revved under the weight of her foot on the accelerator. The power of the patrol car never failed to impress her, especially for a woman who didn’t get her driver’s license until she was twenty-five.

      The first hints of pink and purple pushed into the black night sky as she drove toward Robin Nest. The only homes out this way belonged to the Amish. Perhaps a young Amish boy had been sneaking home after a night of shenanigans. A lot of the Amish youth went to Sunday singings and for some, the fun stretched into the early morning with unsuspecting parents who might glance outside at the most inopportune time and mistake their son for an intruder.

      But that raised the question: Who called the sheriff? The Amish preferred not to deal with law enforcement. And there was the issue of a phone, but even Becky realized that some Amish were adapting to the modern world by allowing phones and cell phones in a limited capacity. Like a landline in a barn or a cell phone strictly for work purposes. She doubted she’d be seeing an Amish family sitting around the table at the diner in town all staring at their cell phones anytime soon. A bit of a slippery slope, all the same.

      As Becky’s patrol car crested the hill, the headlights from an oncoming car blinded her. Instinctively, she jammed on the brakes as the approaching car veered into her lane. She gripped the wheel tightly and braced for impact, a prayer crossing her lips.

      The tires skidded on the pavement. She swerved. The patrol car careened off the road and plowed into the nearby field, stalks of corn slapping at her windshield, her entire body jostling. The vehicle finally came to a hard stop and her seat belt dug into her chest. She let out a breath on a whoosh and slumped into the leather seat. She pried her fingers from the steering wheel and thanked God she was in one piece.

      She contacted dispatch with her current predicament, then released the seat belt. She pushed open the door against the corn stalks. With heightened awareness, she stepped out into the field, her boots sinking into the soft soil. Her first concern was the other driver. Had he had a medical issue? Was he drunk?

      The