“Denny McNinch told me in no uncertain terms to back off,” he says. “Kate, he wouldn’t do that if this wasn’t … important.”
“Bigger fish to fry?” I ask.
He nods. “Whatever Colorosa is guilty of, she is not the focus of the investigation.”
“You’ve thought that from the start.” I think about that a moment. “How can that level of corruption not be the main focus?”
“They’re after someone more valuable.”
A quiver of uneasiness goes through me. “Bertrand? Mercer?”
He shrugs. “Someone at the top.”
I tell him about the neighbor seeing a vehicle parked on the road in front of the farm last night. “He didn’t know the make or model. Just thought it was odd for it to be sitting there with its headlights out, especially in light of all the snow.”
“A four-wheel-drive vehicle with chains can probably get around without too much trouble,” he says.
“Does anyone have eyes on Bertrand or Mercer?” I ask.
“I’ll see what I can find out.” His eyes latch on to mine. “Maybe you ought to get one of your guys out here to watch the place.”
“Last I heard, everyone was snowed in but Mona and Glock,” I tell him. “We’re operating on a skeleton crew as is.”
He shakes his head, looking worried. “Look, we don’t have too much longer. Denny told me this thing is about to break wide open.”
“Can’t be soon enough,” I say. “What do you think’s going to happen to Gina?”
“If she’s cleared of the shooting. If she’s got a decent lawyer who can negotiate immunity in exchange for her testimony.” He shrugs. “She might do a year or two. With everything that’s going on, it’s hard to say.”
“A lot of ifs.”
“Yeah.”
“I think she’s ready for this to be over.” I sigh. “Me, too.”
His expression softens. “Homesick?”
“Sick of snow.”
Turning to me, he raises his hand, brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “Think you can handle another day or two here?”
“Well, now that I’ve dumped the Gentleman Jack, I’m not so sure.”
He smiles. “I thought the both of you were looking a little rough around the edges.”
“I’ll take the fifth on that.”
He leans close and presses a kiss to my mouth. “I’m going to try to make another trip to Columbus in the morning. I’ve got a couple of meetings lined up.”
“Keep me posted.”
“You know I will,” he says. “In the interim, keep your eyes open. Keep your pistol handy. And don’t let Colorosa out of your sight.”
CHAPTER 26
Live your life with God’s goodness and you’ll never fear the past.
It was one of my mamm’s favorite sayings, and I heard it a hundred times growing up. It basically means if you live your life the right way, you’ll never regret something you did in the past. I didn’t appreciate the wisdom of those words until I was well into adulthood. In light of the situation with Gina, the things she’s done, the people she’s hurt, and the uncertainty of her future, the saying has taken on a much more fateful meaning.
I have no idea how all of this is going to be resolved. There’s no doubt in my mind that Gina is guilty of serious wrongdoing, that she broke the law. To what degree, I don’t know. Even now, I’m not convinced she’s being one hundred percent honest with me—or with herself.
I check my cell for the dozenth time, finally tossing it onto the sofa in frustration. Tomasetti left just two hours ago and already I’m anxious for news. Adam and the children harnessed Big Jimmy earlier and took the sleigh to deliver firewood to Mr. Yoder. I’ve kept myself busy, checking departmental email and returning calls, but I’m restless and antsy. I’m tired of being stuck here, away from my own life and the police station where everything seems to make a little more sense—and I have some semblance of control.
I cruised out to some of the local newspaper and television-station websites on my phone. Sure enough, all the major media outlets are carrying the released bodycam footage that ostensibly shows Gina gunning down an unarmed Eddie Cysco. According to reports, the video was released without the knowledge or consent of the police department. In the hours since, the footage has garnered a great deal of attention—and outrage, from citizens and activist groups alike. The television stations in Columbus are reporting that the Columbus Division of Police chief will be giving a press conference at noon.
Is it possible one or more individuals was able to get their hands on archived bodycam footage? Were they able to modify it or splice it with unrelated footage so that the result shows something completely different from what actually occurred? With so many layers of security and checks-and-balances systems in place, is it even a feasible scenario?
Too restless to sit, I scoop up my cell and go to the kitchen. Gina’s not there, so I take the hall to the sewing room. A low rise of alarm goes through me when I find the room vacant, her coat and boots missing. I jog back down the hall and go through the kitchen. In the mudroom, I slip my coat off a hook, jam my feet into my boots, and head out the door.
Cold punches me hard enough to take my breath as I descend the steps. Heavy snow wafts down from a low sky the color of steel. I glance toward the barn to see the big sliding door standing open and footprints leading that way. Flipping up the hood on my parka, I follow them.
The smells of horses and hay, and the lingering redolence of cattle, hover on the cold, still air when I enter the barn. The sleigh is parked against the wall to my left. Down the aisle ahead, the three children surround Big Jimmy, brushing his thick winter coat, running a comb through his mane. Gina’s F-150 is parked beneath the stairs to my right. She’s kneeling at the front bumper, using a coil of baling wire to secure the damaged hood. Adam stands at the passenger door, his hands in his pockets, watching her.
“What are you doing?” I ask her as I approach.
“Wiring the hood to the bumper so the damn thing stays closed.” Frowning, she goes back to the task at hand. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Of course, that’s exactly what I have to do. Not only is it impossible for her to get around without tire chains and four-wheel drive, but with her being part of an ongoing investigation, it’s my responsibility to keep her here by whatever means necessary. Still, my gut tells me this will be settled a lot more easily if I let her figure that out on her own.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to get down the lane,” Adam says, not so helpfully.
Giving him an I-got-this look, I go to her and kneel. “Does it even run?”
“I reattached the battery cable,” she grumbles. “It runs fine.”
She reaches for the other end of the wire, misses. I lean forward and grab it, pull it tight. She takes it from me and, using the fencing pliers, proceeds to twist the two ends together.
“Where are you going, anyway?” I ask.
The fencing pliers in her hand stills, and she gives me a scathing look over her shoulder. “Back to Columbus. To get this handled. Someone has to.”