Page 101 of Outsider

“Dead.” I tell him about the scene inside. “If Gina hadn’t stopped him—”

“She’s still in a lot of trouble.” His eyes flick toward the building, where the woman in question is leaning next to the door, smoking a cigarette she must have bummed from one of the deputies.

“Apparently, that is the theme she’s been keeping,” I say.

“There are a lot of cops who have a lot of questions for you. BCI, too. Maybe even the feds.”

“I figured that would be the case,” I tell him. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can.” He stares at me for what feels like a long time. As if he’s looking for something expected that isn’t there, and he’s surprised by its absence. “Just so you know, Denny and I have your back.”

“I appreciate that.” It’s a pat response. At the moment, it’s the only one I can manage. My emotions are too close to the surface. I don’t quite trust my voice to betray me.

Tomasetti continues, “BCI took Frank Monaghan into custody twenty minutes ago.”

“Top of the food chain.”

“There’s more to come.” He runs his hands down my arms, squeezes my forearms gently. “You did good, Kate.” He grimaces. “All the lies aside, Colorosa, too.”

Looking at him, I get that unsettling quiver in my chest that eases just short of taking my breath. Surprising me, he reaches out and sets his hand against my cheek. I press my face into his palm, and for the span of several heartbeats, he simply gazes back at me.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I left. I should have—”

“You did everything you were supposed to do.” Turning my head slightly, I press a kiss to his palm. “No one expected an ambush at the farm.”

“Yeah.” He looks away, thoughtful, and for the first time I catch a glimpse of his own emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I think you and I have a few things to talk about,” he says quietly.

“We do.” I take his hand. “I may have some soul searching to do when it comes to Gina, but I know exactly where I stand with you.”

I want to say something about the preciousness of life, the importance of the relationships we forge and how both of those things are intertwined and reliant upon the decisions we make along the way. But my voice fails. Tears heat at the backs of my eyes. The jangle of a harness rigging, the stomp of shod hooves, and the whoosh of steel runners through snow saves me from making a fool of myself.

I glance away from Tomasetti to see a horse and sleigh coming down the road, traveling a little too fast for conditions.

“Looks like Adam Lengacher,” Tomasetti says.

I nod, moved by the Amish man’s presence. “I need to talk to him.”

“You might want to let him know this is a crime scene—”

“I won’t let him get too close.” I turn away and start toward the road, where Adam has stopped the sleigh.

“Katie, what happened?” Adam climbs down and starts toward me. “I heard gunshots. Are you all right? Gina?”

“Both of us are fine.” As I move toward him, I find myself looking for Sammy and the girls, anticipating the soft cuff of pleasure the sight of them brings. “The kids?”

“They are fine. Still in the basement. Sammy stayed behind to look after his sisters.”

Of course he did. Sweet, sweet child.

An awkward moment ensues. To embrace Adam would go against propriety. A handshake doesn’t seem sufficient. I buck protocol and embrace him. As expected, he stiffens; his arms remain at his sides. Still, when his eyes fall on mine, they’re warm with understanding and affection.

I step away from him. “Thank you for coming. For … everything.”

His gaze travels to the metal building. “The men?”

“We stopped them,” I tell him.

He nods, not asking the obvious question. His expression tells me he knows the men met a bad end. That either Gina or I was responsible for it. He lets it go.