hand flew to her midsection. She looked like she was going to be sick. “I can’t get involved.” She balled up the cuff of her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. “I don’t know the address or anything.”
“I don’t know the exact address, either, but I know how to find the house. I’d have to show you. There was a sign in front,” Cheryl said.
“I want to forget this night. Please.” Naomi bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. “I want to forget it ever happened.”
Christina pressed the palms of her hands together. “You can’t go home until your clothes are cleaned, right?” She opened her eyes wide, pleading. “We’ll take a drive in Dylan’s truck. You can show us the location. We won’t stop. We won’t get out of the car. No one will ever know it was you. Okay?”
“Why?” Naomi said, the defeat in her tone evident. “It won’t change anything.”
Dylan was about to say something when he noticed the rigid set of Christina’s body. Anger and maybe something akin to regret flashed in the depths of her eyes. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but it’s important that you seek justice.” Christina’s voice cracked over the last word and she shook her head briefly, as if trying to snap out of it. “Another young college girl was drugged recently at a party. We need to put a stop to this.”
Dread knotted Dylan’s gut. Christina spoke as if this were personal. Was it? Had something happened to her? Shame washed over him. He had returned to Apple Creek with his own bags packed to their bursting seams with regret, guilt and anger. Never once did he consider that Christina—the physician with wealthy parents, the woman who had everything, the woman who followed her dreams—had had her own share of troubles.
“The Amish ways are not like yours,” Naomi said flatly. “We handle things among our own.”
Christina blinked her eyes slowly, as if trying to tame her frustration. “I consider you a friend, Naomi. We’ve chatted a bit each time when you’ve come in to work, right? I know you’re happy in the Amish community.”
“Yah.”
“This person may try to spike other girls’ drinks. He may have already done it.”
“Are you serious?” Cheryl asked in disbelief, her long ponytail swinging as her hooded eyes darted from Christina to Dylan and back to Christina.
“Yes, I’m serious.” Christina threaded her fingers and held her hands in front of her, pleading with Naomi. “I want you to show us, but I won’t force you.”
Naomi rubbed her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve, then pulled it away, revealing watery eyes and a tear tracking down her cheek.
“Yah,” Naomi whispered, her shoulders easing down from her ears. “We’ll show you. But please don’t tell anyone.”
* * *
Cheryl was the far more chatty of the two as she gave Dylan directions to the location of the party. She seemed to enjoy the spotlight. Something about it rubbed Dylan the wrong way, or maybe her manner seemed so forward in contrast to Naomi’s quiet nature.
“How did you two meet?” Dylan finally asked.
“Naomi cleans homes in town.” Dylan wished Cheryl would let Naomi speak for herself.
“The extra money helps my family,” Naomi said, her voice low.
“You were at the Webbs’ house—right?—and heard about his party.” Cheryl didn’t wait for Naomi to answer. “Aaron Webb had a big party and invited you. I was floored when I found out you were Amish.” She scooted up on the edge of the backseat so her voice got louder. “Naomi was dressed normally, like in jeans and T-shirt.” Then as if realizing her backhanded slam, Cheryl added, “I mean, you weren’t dressed Amish. Anyway, we started seeing each other around at different parties and stuff and became friends. Like what, six months ago?”
“Yah.” Naomi sounded resigned. “Cleaning all those homes, I started to think I’d rather live in the outside world. But I was wrong.”
“Well, thanks.” Cheryl laughed, obviously not offended.
“You know what I mean,” Naomi said. “I’m more suited to the Amish Way. I went to the party tonight dressed the way I was raised because I was hoping to talk to a friend. I wasn’t looking to drink and I certainly never expected to have someone put something in my drink.” Her voice grew softer and Dylan looked in the rearview mirror to see Naomi staring out the window. “I should have never had that beer.”
Christina shifted in her seat to face Naomi. Christina’s hair had begun to dry in ringlets around her face. “None of this is your fault.”
“Turn right at the stop sign,” Cheryl interjected.
In the rearview mirror, Dylan noticed Naomi biting her bottom lip. Something about this entire story didn’t add up, but it wasn’t his job to figure it out. He wasn’t FBI. Not while he was on leave. He was a college professor. He was only here because he cared for Christina and for the well-being of this young woman.
Dylan stopped at the corner and was surprised to see a young Amish man in a wagon entering the intersection. It was after ten in the evening. The rain had stopped and a bright moon illuminated the countryside.
In the back, Naomi gasped and slouched in the seat.
“It’s Lloyd,” Cheryl whispered, a hint of awe in her voice. Then to him and Christina, “Lloyd Burkholder is the boy Naomi hoped to see at the party.”
Naomi covered her face with the palm of her hand. It was unlikely the young man would have recognized anyone inside the dark cab of the truck, but she obviously didn’t want to take any chances. “He’ll never take me back if he thinks I haven’t forsaken my former ways. Do you think he knows what happened?”
“You know how people talk,” her friend said. “You’ll have to explain what happened. He’ll take you back. I know it.”
“How can I explain when I don’t even know?” The young woman sounded on the verge of tears.
“I’ll help you any way I can,” Christina said. “Maybe you should reconsider calling the sheriff.”
“Neh.”
The horse and wagon proceeded through the intersection and Lloyd tipped his broad-brimmed hat in their direction, not an unusual gesture in the friendly Amish community.
Dylan lifted a hand in greeting, then turned right as instructed. He knew they were almost near their location when Naomi slid farther down in her seat; any farther and she’d be curled up in a ball on the floor. “The barn is behind the house with the sign on the front lawn.”
Dylan scanned the landscape and noticed a gold Sold sticker splashed across an Apple Creek Realty sign staked in the front lawn. The house and adjacent barn were dark.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s moved in yet,” Christina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do either of you know who was hosting the party?”
“Neh,” Naomi said.
“A bunch of kids probably heard it was an empty house. Prime party spot,” Cheryl said. “I heard about the party in town.”
“I don’t see any cars or horses by the barn.” Dylan slowed to a near stop.
“Like I said...” Cheryl sounded like a girl who didn’t like to repeat herself. “Everyone scattered when Ben went tearing out of there with Naomi in the backseat.”
Dylan glanced over at Christina who seemed intent on studying the landscape. “Do you think anyone’s still out there?” she asked.
“Not likely. Don’t you remember bolting from a party when you were a kid? They’re probably long gone by now.”