Page 64 of Fallen

When I’m finished, he makes a sound of disgust and asks, “How well do you know Fletcher?”

I tell him. “It would be an understatement to say I’m shocked.”

“Any strikes against him?”

I search my memory, realize there were a few minor incidents that never went anywhere, and I feel a churning of uneasiness in my gut. “I think a woman filed a complaint about him several years back. If I recall there was some question about her credibility and nothing came of it.”

The silence that ensues brings with it a creeping dread that climbs up the back of my neck like some slimy worm.

After a moment, he sighs. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

The Holmes County Sheriff’s Office is located north of Millersburg, a few miles past Pomerene Hospital. I’m in the process of signing in with the duty deputy when Mike Rasmussen opens the door and leans out.

“Hi, Kate.”

I look up from the clipboard to see the sheriff standing outside the door, grinning at me. He’s out of uniform, wearing a pink polo shirt, khaki slacks, and golf shoes. “Hey, Mike.”

“You want to play golf with us?” he asks. “Proceeds go to the animal shelter. Save a lot of puppies.”

I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he’s noticed something in my expression and it’s given him pause.

“Last time I played golf with you I embarrassed myself.” I cross to him and we shake hands. He opens the door wider and ushers me into the hall. Side by side, we make our way to his office.

There, he motions to the visitor chair adjacent to his desk, and he slides into the chair at his desk. Grimacing, I go to the door and close it.

“Must be bad,” he says.

“And then some.” I take the chair. “I think Dane Fletcher may be involved with the murder of Rachael Schwartz.”

“What? Fletch?” He starts to laugh, realizes belatedly that I’m not kidding, and blinks hard at me. “Are you serious?”

Over the next minutes, I relay my conversation with the Bontragers. When I’m finished, Rasmussen leans back in his chair, his arms folded at his chest, staring at me as if he’d like nothing more than to pull out his sidearm and shut me the hell up.

“If I didn’t know you so well, Kate, I’d throw you out of my office.”

“Yep.” I sigh. “Me, too.”

“Do you believe this Amish couple?” he asks.

“I believe them enough so that we need to look at it. Get to the bottom of it.”

A knock sounds on the door. Cursing beneath his breath, Rasmussen gets to his feet and yanks it open. He doesn’t bother greeting Tomasetti and goes back to his desk, falls into the chair.

Taking his time, Tomasetti nods at me and then takes the visitor chair next to mine. “I take it you told him.”

I nod, look at Mike. “I need to talk to Fletcher.” I glance at Tomasetti. “We need a warrant. I want his phone records and his banking records.”

Rasmussen makes a sound of annoyance. “Based on hearsay? Based on secondhand information of something that allegedly happened almost thirteen years ago? By a woman who may or may not be telling the truth? You want to ruin a man’s reputation based on that?”

“I have no intention of ruining anyone’s reputation,” I snap. “But I have a murder to solve.”

Ignoring me, he looks at Tomasetti. “Dane Fletcher is a good cop, goddamn it. He’s married with a family. Been with the department for seventeen years.” He turns his rankled expression on me. “You’d better be damn sure about this before you pull him into this.”

“I’m as sure as I need to be.” Even as I say the words, I feel the doubt crowding that certainty.

Cursing, Rasmussen slaps his hand down on the desk.

“I don’t like it either, Mike,” I say. “But we have to talk to him. There’s no way around it.”