Page 48 of Outsider

Kids making lunch is not a silent ordeal, even when said children are Amish. I’m restless from being cooped up, and cold because the three wood and propane stoves are ill equipped to heat a farmhouse this size. I’m also tired, because I spent most of the night sleepless, trying to work through a situation that simply doesn’t have a good resolution no matter how many times I rearrange all the pieces. My past relationship with Gina, both good and bad, is ever present, all of it tainted by the knowledge that she is guilty of serious wrongdoing—and I face a slew of difficult decisions in the coming days.

I’m curled on the sofa, cell in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other when I become aware of a presence. I look up to see Sammy standing a few feet away, watching me tap the screen as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever witnessed.

“Guder nammidaag,” I tell him. Good afternoon.

“What are you doing, Chief Katie?”

“Checking my email.”

He makes a face that tells me he’s never heard the term before. “You mean there’s a letter in your phone?”

“Lots of them.”

“Can I see?”

“No.” I soften the blow with a smile.

He grins back. He’s got a smear of peanut butter at the corner of his mouth. Bread crumbs on the front of his shirt. Cheeks chapped from being out in the cold. In that moment he looks so much like Adam when he was a youngster, I feel a little piece of my heart melt.

“Datt says Jimmy and Jenny can pull your car out of the ditch today. Gina’s, too. But we have to hurry because it’s going to snow again.”

Energized by the thought of freeing up the Explorer, I put my phone away. “Where’s your datt?”

“Him and Gina went to the barn.”

The statement takes me aback. Earlier, I saw Adam go outside to check on the calf. I didn’t, however, notice Gina leaving. I’d assumed she was in the sewing room. How is it that she slipped out the door unnoticed? And what the hell is she doing in the barn with Adam?

“In that case, I think I’ll go help them,” I tell Sammy.

“I can help, too. I can get Jimmy and Jenny ready to pull out the cars.”

“How about you finish your lunch first?”

“Okay, but I’m going to eat fast.”

I walk with him to the kitchen and then I continue on to the mudroom, slip into my parka and boots, and head outside. I’m met with air so cold it sucks the breath from my lungs. Wind burns my cheeks and reaches down my collar like an icy hand. The sun reflecting off the snow is blinding. Flipping up my hood, I pull my sunglasses from a zippered pocket and head toward the barn.

The sliding door stands open. A thin layer of snow covers the dirt floor, having blown in. Shoving my sunglasses onto my crown, I step inside. I’m greeted by the smells of horses and hay and the earthy essences of a well-used barn. A dapple-gray draft horse stands cross-tied in the aisle to my left, looking at me. A second horse still wearing its quilted winter coat is tied outside its stall and whinnies. The stairs to the loft are on my right. A raised wood-plank floor is straight ahead, where a dozen or so bags of feed are stacked against the wall. Outside, the wind whips at a loose shingle, clanging it against the roof.

I go to the gelding, run my hand over his topline. “You must be Jimmy.”

The animal nuzzles me, not because he’s lovable, but because he’s likely looking for a carrot or apple.

“Hello?” I call out. “Adam?” I walk toward the raised floor at the rear of the barn, looking around as I go. “Gina?”

A quiver of worry goes through me when I don’t get a response. I’m ever aware of the events that have taken place in Columbus. I know better than to write off the possibility that someone might come looking for her. Cops are a resourceful bunch with an arsenal of people-finding tools at their fingertips, not to mention the experience to get it done. It wouldn’t take much for one of them to remember that Gina and I had once been friends.

Someone like Ken Mercer, a little voice whispers.

A sound to my left startles me. I spin, my hand hovering over the place where my .38 would have been had I thought to bring it. Surprise flits through me at the sight of Gina and Adam clattering down the steps. They’re laughing. I discern Gina’s raucous laugh, vivacious, a little too loud. Single file because the steps are narrow, Gina in the lead, Adam right on her heels. Hands joined between them.

At the base of the stairs, she stops and spins to him, raising her uninjured hand as if to fend him off. “I told you I’d beat you!”

“You cheated.”

He moves in close, eyes alight, his attention riveted to her. It’s a response that has nothing to do with Amish or English, but the age-old dynamics inherent between male and female.

It’s such an unexpected and improbable sight, it takes my brain a moment to process. I’ve interrupted a private moment. Decorum tells me to make a quick exit and forget it. But I know Gina. More importantly, I know Adam. I know what he’s been through, that he’s vulnerable in a way that won’t be taken into consideration by her, and I know nothing good can come from their getting too close.