Page 88 of Outsider

“Keep in mind, to the best of our knowledge the chief of police is aiding and abetting a fugitive. If she doesn’t cooperate, we cuff her. Above everything, we get her out of the room. If the chief is smart, she’ll do as she’s told.” He looked at Mercer. “We do not want problems with Burkholder. Remember, people love small-town cops. They grew up watching Andy Griffith, for God’s sake. Something happens to her and Colorosa, and we are going to be on the hot seat.”

Visualizing the scene, Bertrand took a bite of burger and chewed. “So, we separate them. Put Burkholder in one room. The family in another. I’ll take care of Colorosa. I’ll plant the throw-down.” Now that he’d laid it out, it seemed almost doable.

“Still can’t figure why Burkholder didn’t call this in or make the arrest,” Mercer said. “Especially in light of the bodycam footage.”

Burkholder’s lack of action had been bothering Bertrand, too. It was one of too many unknowns. He felt marginally better about the whole thing now that they’d “leaked” the video. It established Colorosa as a cold-blooded killer, a dirty cop with no compunction about gunning down an innocent person. It was the impetus that would see them through the endless investigations that would follow her death—and go a long way toward greasing the road to vindication.

“Nothing we can do about it now,” he said. “We proceed as planned. Don’t take anything for granted.”

“Maybe the chief is as dirty as her old friend,” Mercer said. “Colorosa shows up out of nowhere with a sob story and the promise of fast money. Maybe the good chief decided she wanted a piece of the pie.”

“Good reason for us not to have reached out to her department,” Bertrand said. “As far as we know, we’ve stumbled upon a corrupt small-town cop.”

“What about the sheriff’s department?” Mercer asked.

“I’ll give them a heads-up. But we go in before they arrive on scene. By the time they do, we’ll have the situation under control.” He shrugged. “It’s not a perfect scenario.”

“Nothing we can’t deal with.” Mercer resumed eating.

Bertrand was still thinking about Burkholder. “We’re going in blind, Ken. If the good chief causes problems, if she doesn’t stand down or she does something stupid, she goes the way of Colorosa.”

CHAPTER 28

Supper at an Amish home is a relaxed occasion in which the work of the day is discussed and household decisions are made. A place at the kitchen table symbolizes belonging, being part of the family unit. Adam sits at the head of the table. The three children sit to his left, in order of age, the youngest closest to him. There’s no place setting for Leah Lengacher, but the chair to Adam’s right is unoccupied, its bareness not acknowledged, but keenly felt.

Tomasetti arrives with pizza at seven P.M. It’s late; most Amish generally eat an early supper, around five P.M. or so. But due to the road conditions, the drive from Painters Mill took him longer than he’d intended.

The children are excited by the prospect of pizza. Most Amish meals are homemade, but they are not strangers to contemporary foods. Fast food—or even junk food—is a treat.

The aromas of yeast and onions and pepperoni fill the kitchen when Tomasetti sets two flat cardboard boxes in the center of the table. While the two men engage in a quick haggle over payment, and Adam tries to force a couple of twenty-dollar bills on an uncooperative Tomasetti, Annie and Gina set out paper plates, forks, and folded paper towels. Lizzie and I set to work on the drinks.

Tomasetti sets a six-pack of Pepsi in the center of the table. “Can’t have pizza without pop.”

“I love pop!” Sammy exclaims as he takes his place.

“Gebet Vor Dem Essen seahsht,” Adam says. The Prayer before Meal first.

Tomasetti and I sit to Adam’s right, leaving the chair next to him vacant. Once everyone is seated, heads are bowed for a moment of silent prayer and I find myself silently reciting the Lord’s Prayer in German, something I haven’t done for years. Next comes the Prayer before Meal, which is from a prayer book titled Christenpflicht, and is also most often recited silently. But because Tomasetti and I are present, Adam recites the prayer aloud.

“Oh Herr Gott, himmlischer Vater, Segne uns und Diese Deine Gaben, die wir von Deiner milden Güte zu uns nehmen werden. Speise und tranke auch unsere Seelen zum ewigen Leben, und mach uns theilhaftig Deines himmleschen Tisches durch Jesus Christum. Amen.”

O Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these thy gifts, which we shall accept from thy tender goodness. Give us food and drink also for our souls unto life eternal, and make us partakers of thy heavenly table through Jesus Christ. Amen.

“All right then.” Adam rubs his hands together. “Let’s see what we have here.”

The boxes are opened. I hear the quick intake of breaths as the children lean forward, anxious to see the treasure inside.

“Cheese!” Annie exclaims with the glee that only a five-year-old can manage.

“A girl of my own heart,” Gina mutters as she loads two slices onto her plate.

“And it’s all bubbly,” Lizzie adds, a hint of awe in her voice.

“What are those?” Sammy points at a small plastic cup filled with sliced jalapeños.

“An instant of regret, but worth the pain,” Tomasetti tells him.

At Sammy’s puzzled look, we adults break into laughter.