Page 56 of Outsider

He steeled himself against the truth of it, the tinge of cruelty in her voice. “Is it in a safe place?” he asked.

“Very safe,” she said, and then her voice went soft. “I miss you, too, by the way.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you,” he said, hating it that his voice betrayed him, revealing the urgency that had his heart racing. The desperation that had his gut tied in knots. Not for the first time he lamented his weakness, the fact that he could no more control any of it than he could his need for his next breath. God knows he’d tried …

“Can you get away?” she asked. “Can we meet?”

“You know things are too hot,” he said. “We need to let things quiet down, babes. A few days.”

“I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

“We’ll have to make up for lost time.”

The silence that followed pricked at his nerves, making them tingle until his hands shook and his armpits dampened with sweat.

“You know they’re not going to let us walk away from this,” she said.

“So we’ll run. The money’ll get us where we need to go.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, finally in a softer voice that promised all the things he craved from her. All the things that, until now, had seemed so out of reach.

“Stay put and lay low,” he said.

“I’m not very good at laying low.”

“They haven’t found you yet so just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll be there. You can count on me.”

“How do I reach you?” he asked.

“You won’t,” she said. “I’ll call you.”

“I love you, baby.” He closed his eyes, thought he could smell her scent, feel the warmth of her breath against his face. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of—”

The line went dead.

CHAPTER 17

Dawn arrives cold and gray, with snow flurries and a north wind that hammers the house like a fist. It’s not as bitterly cold today, and I’m desperately hoping the six inches of snow the weatherman predicted is an overestimation. Tomasetti needs to make the drive to Columbus. It can’t be put off any longer.

I’m at the sink, washing the last of our breakfast dishes. Gina sits at the kitchen table, staring at the coffee cup in front of her, brooding. She doesn’t look like she got much sleep, didn’t take the time to brush her hair, which is a mess. Earlier, Annie and Lizzie helped me put sausage and green beans to simmer on the stove. I did my best to engage the girls, but they seem wary of Gina and me this morning, especially Lizzie, who’s older. I suspect their standoffishness may be due to the things they overheard yesterday. I make a mental note to talk to Gina about her language later.

I’ve just placed the last saucer in the cabinet when Lizzie comes through the door with a box of checkers. “Sammy likes to play Settlers of Catan, but we’re too little,” she announces as she sets up the game on the kitchen table.

“Mamm used to play checkers with us sometimes,” Annie says.

“She’s with God now.” Concentrating, Lizzie removes the chips and sets them next to the board. “She went with our little brother, Levi. One of these days we’re going to go, too, and I’ll get to meet Levi. Maybe even hold him.”

“He didn’t get to be born,” Annie explains.

“Sis Gottes wille.” Lizzie pats her little sister’s hand. It’s God’s will.

I’m aware that Gina has looked up from her coffee to stare at them. I stare, too, somehow guilty, taken aback by the depth of their innocence, the unblemished sweetness, their faith, and I wonder how long it’s been since I appreciated the fact that such things exist in this world.

After a moment, Gina rubs her hands together, looks from girl to girl. “I should warn you I play a mean game of checkers.”

“What she means,” I tell the girls, tossing Gina a reproachful look, “is that she’s good at checkers and she’d like to challenge you to a game.”