“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.
It’s times like this when I’m reminded that John Tomasetti was the father of two children. He’s been through the sleepless nights of having a newborn in the house, the teething, the terrible twos, the first day of kindergarten, and all the trials and tribulations of early childhood. Losing them in such a violent way nearly destroyed him. Healing has been an ongoing process, but he’s come a long way since those early days. Watching him with these sweet children, I feel the beat of my own biological clock.
For the next hour, the six of us pile pizza onto our plates and dig in. Adam updates us on the status of the calf that had been abandoned by its cow. “Mama likes him just fine now. He’s nursing with no problems.”
“He’s bigger already!” Sammy tells us.
“Datt says that’s because you fed him too much milk,” Lizzie says.
“He wouldn’t stop eating,” Sammy defends.
“Kind of like someone else we know,” Adam says, grinning at his son.
Suddenly shy, Sammy looks down at his pizza.
“Mamm always said Sammy would eat his plate, too, if he could get it in his mouth,” Lizzie says.
Laughter rings out around the table. It’s a good sound that reminds me of simpler times, of years past. My own table growing up was never quite as upbeat; my parents were strict, and oftentimes supper was a somber occasion. But there was laughter, too, and the memory puts an ache just behind my ribs.
“Tomorrow, you and I will cut wood for the stove,” Adam says to his son. “It’s been cold, so I thought we’d load as much as we can into the sleigh and take it over to the widow Borntrager.” He glances at his eldest daughter. “Maybe you girls could make some bread for her. Or cornmeal mush?”
Looking a little too thoughtful for her seven years, Lizzie nods. “How about zucchini bread, Datt? We’ve over twenty jars of zucchini in the cellar. I counted.”
Adam nods. “Zucchini bread it is then.” He looks at Tomasetti. “Any idea when the weather’s going to break?”
“Snow is supposed to stop sometime tonight.”
Taking the final bite of pizza, Gina blots her mouth, and slants a look at Adam. “That means I’ll probably be out of your hair tomorrow afternoon.”
Adam stares at her for a too-long moment. “What will happen next?”
She meets his gaze and holds it. “I tell my story to the police. Hopefully they’ll listen.”
“Whatever that story is, peace will find you if you let the truth lead the way.” The Amish man shifts his gaze to Tomasetti. “You’ll help her, no?”
“I’ll do what I can,” he replies.
Reaching out, little Annie sets her hand over Gina’s. “Me and Lizzie will make a zucchini bread for you, too, Gina. That way, at least you won’t get hungry.”
* * *
When the meal is finished and the two girls are washing dishes, I walk with Tomasetti to the door. He’s holding his helmet at his side, already dressed in the snowsuit.
“The pizza was a nice treat.” Standing on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his mouth. “I miss you.”
Even before I pull away, I sense the shift of our thoughts, our focus, and I know the situation with Gina is at the forefront of our minds.
Setting his hands on my shoulders, Tomasetti looks down at me. “I’ll be here in the morning to take Colorosa to the BCI office in London. Denny McNinch will be there, along with an assistant prosecutor from Franklin County and a special agent with the investigations unit of BCI. She’s going to need a lawyer, so if she hasn’t taken care of that yet, she needs to make some calls first thing in the morning.” He grimaces. “Kate, she needs to cooperate in every way.”
“She will.” My mind is already jumping ahead. “I suspect at some point, she’ll be placed under arrest and taken into custody.”
He nods. “She’ll be charged. Arraigned. She’s going to go to jail, Kate. She needs to be prepared for that.”
I’d known it would happen. Of course I did. Still, it doesn’t make the reality any easier to swallow. “General population?”
“Because of the nature of the case and that she was a cop, probably not. At least initially.” He grimaces. “Kate, this is a large-scale investigation that’s only going to get bigger. It’s going to be far-reaching and it’s going to get ugly. If the feds aren’t already involved, they will be. Colorosa can’t talk about any of this. Let her know that, too.”
“I will,” I reply, understanding all too well what the next twenty-four hours will entail.
He continues to stare at me, his expression softening, and I see compassion in his eyes. “Look, I’m not a big fan of Colorosa. She’s exactly the kind of cop that makes all of us look bad. But I know you care about her. I’m sorry for that. But there’s no other way. She’s got to come in. She’s got to tell her story.”
I nod, not quite trusting my voice to speak.
Raising his hand, he touches the side of my face, leans close and presses a kiss to my mouth. “The meeting isn’t until afternoon. Roads should be passable by then. I’ll be here late morning to pick her up.”
He pulls the helmet on and buckles it at his chin. “Night.” He goes through the door and disappears into the lightly falling snow.
* * *
I find Gina sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of cola in front of her. She looks up when I enter, tries for bravado, but she’s unable to hold my gaze. “I guess tomorrow is D-day, huh?”
I walk to the table, pull out the chair across from her, and sit. “Tomasetti has pulled together a team to meet with you.” I tell her the agencies involved. “It’s a start. It’ll get things rolling.”
“He say anything about immunity?”
“No.”
She nods, her expression telling me she didn’t expect a different answer. “I’ll be arrested?”
“Probably.”
She nods, having known that, too. “Booked into County?”
“Until they can figure out what to do with you. I don’t know about bail. You’ll likely have to wait for your arraignment or bail hearing.” I look around, not for the first time regretting that I dumped that bottle of Gentleman Jack. “Gina, I wish there was another way.”
“I could always hightail it to Mexico.” The laugh that follows is cold and rough.
“It’s the best we can do. The rest is up to you and the system. The courts.”
Finally, she raises her gaze to mine. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
“I’m glad we got to reconnect. I wish the circumstances were different.”
“I’m ready to be done with this, Kate,” she tells me. “Get it over with. Whatever happens, whatever the future holds, good or bad, it’s got to be better than this … limbo.”
Even as she makes the statement, we both know there are no guarantees. She’s facing a multitude of serious charges and could possibly spend years behind bars. Her career is finished, her reputation forever tainted. She’ll never work in law enforcement in any capacity again.