Page 17 of Outsider

The Quonset hut is warm and smells of hay and molasses with the tang of woodsmoke from a potbellied stove in the corner. The sound of the wind and the pop of burning wood fill the silence as Joe pushes the door closed.

“I was just over at Adam Lengacher’s place,” I begin.

“Everything okay over there?” he asks, still trying to figure out why I’m here.

The last thing I want to do is involve someone in a situation that could have moral or legal implications. But with emergency services shut down and the weather deteriorating by the minute, I’ve run out of options. I’ve seen enough gunshot wounds to know that even if Gina’s injury is minor, if left untreated it could become life-threatening.

“Joe, I’ve got an unusual situation and I need your help.”

Concern suffuses his expression. “Of course. What is it?”

Leaving out details he’s better off not knowing—not to keep him in the dark, but to protect him from any problems that might arise—I lay out the basics of Gina’s situation. “She’s a police officer and she’s involved in—” I grapple for the right words. “—a sensitive situation. There was an incident last night. Joe, she’s been shot.”

His eyes narrow. “How bad is it?”

“All I know is that it’s a shoulder wound. There’s some bleeding, but it’s not profuse. I think she was probably hypothermic when Adam found her.”

“How long ago was she shot?”

“Ten hours, give or take.”

“Is the bullet still inside her?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Gunshot wounds are very serious, Chief Burkholder.”

“I know. Joe, I’d never ask you to become involved in a situation like this if there was another way. But emergency services aren’t running because of the storm. And I don’t believe I can get her to the hospital myself.”

He gazes at me intently. In the depths of his eyes, I see the bloom of knowledge. “Doctors are required by law to report those kinds of wounds.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

I nod. “You are not obligated to help.”

“She is a criminal?” he asks.

“She’s a police officer,” I say. “But she … made some bad choices and now she’s wanted by the police. I’m trying to help her do the right thing.”

His eyes slide to the window, where wind-driven snow assaults the glass. “If infection sets in, she will have a serious problem.”

I nod. “If you decide to help … Joe, there will likely be an investigation. A lot of questions. I want you to know that going in.”

He stares at me, his expression troubled. For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse. A choice I will not hold against him. Instead, he gives a single, decisive nod. “Let me get my bag.”

CHAPTER 5

The drive back to the Lengacher farm is a harrowing ordeal. Drifts reaching as high as the bumper bog down the Explorer several times, but I manage to bust through and keep going. If current weather conditions continue, roads will likely become impassable overnight—a reality that sends a thread of anxiety through my midsection. If Gina’s gunshot wound is life-threatening, we’ll be left to deal with it without a doctor, because the window for me to get her to the hospital in Millersburg has closed.

I drive up the lane too fast, the Explorer bucking over massive drifts, snow exploding over the hood. Beside me, Joe Weaver clutches the door handle. “You’ve done this before, no?”

“A time or two.” The rear tires fishtail when I make the turn toward the house. “Wouldn’t have made it without the four-wheel drive and chains.”

The Amish man grins. “And then Adam would have to get Big Jimmy to pull you out.”

“Right.”