Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11)(88)

The exchange drives home the myriad reasons I left my Amish faith behind. While I will always hold close a great deal of love for the people, the culture, and the religion, I’m once again reminded of how far I’ve strayed, and that I made the only decision I could have.

I hold his gaze for a moment longer, words best left unspoken passing between us. After a moment, I turn and leave the room.





CHAPTER 29


One of the most satisfying aspects of closing an investigation is that golden moment when the facts come together and you finally figure out the how and why. It’s not always a pleasant moment, but rewarding nonetheless.

I’m trying hard to believe that as I make the turn into the lane that will take me home. I pull up behind the house to find Tomasetti’s Tahoe parked in its usual spot. I sit there a moment, watching the snow fall, drinking in the simple beauty of my surroundings. The barn with its peeling paint. The farmhouse with its drafty windows and a porch that’s in dire need of a new railing. A dozen or so Buckeye hens peck around on the ground outside the Victorian chicken house Tomasetti built for me last month.

The snow is coming down hard when I get out and take the sidewalk to the back door. I find Tomasetti sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him, a cup of coffee at his side.

His eyes find mine. “How’s the bishop?”

“He’s going to be all right, I think.”

Rising, he crosses to me, relieves me of my laptop case, sets it on the floor next to the coatrack, and eases my coat from my shoulders. “How about you?”

I turn to him. “I’m glad this godforsaken case is over.”

He goes to the counter, pours coffee for me, and sets it on the table. “Have a seat.”

I take the chair across from him. “The Helmuths didn’t know,” I say.

“Bodes well for them.” He sips coffee, looking at me over the rim.

“The bishop chose them because they’re blood relatives,” I tell him. “Ostensibly, they could work out any custody issues among themselves. He knew they were a good, solid Amish family. Their home was a place where the baby would be safe, and grow up with traditional Amish values, surrounded by family and community.”

I think about the cemetery plot at the Mullet farm. “I don’t know what Rosanna did or didn’t do. Some of it may come out during trial. But I get the sense that, as an Amish woman, she felt a certain amount of pressure to conform to all those societal roles, to have children, raise a large family.”

“That can be a lot of pressure.”

“Especially for someone not equipped to handle it. Someone with no support system.”

“As twisted as all of that is, it fits.” Tomasetti sips coffee. “You’ve been dwelling in some dark places.”

“I knew the truth was in there somewhere.”

His gaze meets mine. In their depths I see comprehension and the insights of a man who has experienced the many facets of life, both good and bad. “You and I have been around long enough to know that Lady Justice doesn’t always get it exactly right.”

“Tomasetti, what they did was incredibly … misguided.”

Leaning forward, he reaches across the table and takes my hand. “That’s true, Kate. But however misguided or wrong or immoral, they may have saved the life of a child. All things considered, I don’t think that’s such a hard thing to live with.”

Rising, I go to him. He gets to his feet. I fall against him. Something settles inside me when his arms wrap around me.

“Do me a favor?” Setting his fingers against my chin, he tilts my face to his. “Stay out of those dark places.”

“I’m working on it.”

My cell vibrates against my hip, the ring that follows tells me it’s Dispatch.

“I’ve got to take it.” Pulling away, I put the cell to my ear. “Hey, Lois.”

“Chief, I just took a call from Mr. Shafer with the Buckeye Credit Union on the traffic circle. He says there are a bunch of teenagers parked in his customer parking spots.” She sounds frazzled. “He says he asked them to leave and they refused.”

“Let Mr. Shafer know I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Copy that.”

Tomasetti picks up our cups and sets them in the sink. “Sounds serious.”

“You have no idea.” I soften the words with a smile. “I have to go.”

Behind him, outside the window above the sink, snow swirls down, lending a magical quality to the fading afternoon light.

“Want some company?” he asks. “I hear the Harvest Festival is in full swing. Once you’re off we could drink some hard cider and check out the new antique shop on the south end.”

“Tomasetti, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Standing on my tiptoes, I pull his face to mine and press my mouth to his. “Let’s go.”