Tomasetti continues, “BCI took Frank Monaghan into custody twenty minutes ago.”
“Top of the food chain.”
“There’s more to come.” He runs his hands down my arms, squeezes my forearms gently. “You did good, Kate.” He grimaces. “All the lies aside, Colorosa, too.”
Looking at him, I get that unsettling quiver in my chest that eases just short of taking my breath. Surprising me, he reaches out and sets his hand against my cheek. I press my face into his palm, and for the span of several heartbeats, he simply gazes back at me.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I left. I should have—”
“You did everything you were supposed to do.” Turning my head slightly, I press a kiss to his palm. “No one expected an ambush at the farm.”
“Yeah.” He looks away, thoughtful, and for the first time I catch a glimpse of his own emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I think you and I have a few things to talk about,” he says quietly.
“We do.” I take his hand. “I may have some soul searching to do when it comes to Gina, but I know exactly where I stand with you.”
I want to say something about the preciousness of life, the importance of the relationships we forge and how both of those things are intertwined and reliant upon the decisions we make along the way. But my voice fails. Tears heat at the backs of my eyes. The jangle of a harness rigging, the stomp of shod hooves, and the whoosh of steel runners through snow saves me from making a fool of myself.
I glance away from Tomasetti to see a horse and sleigh coming down the road, traveling a little too fast for conditions.
“Looks like Adam Lengacher,” Tomasetti says.
I nod, moved by the Amish man’s presence. “I need to talk to him.”
“You might want to let him know this is a crime scene—”
“I won’t let him get too close.” I turn away and start toward the road, where Adam has stopped the sleigh.
“Katie, what happened?” Adam climbs down and starts toward me. “I heard gunshots. Are you all right? Gina?”
“Both of us are fine.” As I move toward him, I find myself looking for Sammy and the girls, anticipating the soft cuff of pleasure the sight of them brings. “The kids?”
“They are fine. Still in the basement. Sammy stayed behind to look after his sisters.”
Of course he did. Sweet, sweet child.
An awkward moment ensues. To embrace Adam would go against propriety. A handshake doesn’t seem sufficient. I buck protocol and embrace him. As expected, he stiffens; his arms remain at his sides. Still, when his eyes fall on mine, they’re warm with understanding and affection.
I step away from him. “Thank you for coming. For … everything.”
His gaze travels to the metal building. “The men?”
“We stopped them,” I tell him.
He nods, not asking the obvious question. His expression tells me he knows the men met a bad end. That either Gina or I was responsible for it. He lets it go.
“Adam!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Gina striding toward us, moving at a fast clip through ankle-deep snow. Dark hair flying. Mouth pulled into a smile that would have been dazzling had it not been tempered with the stress of the last hours. Her eyes are riveted to Adam and lit with pleasure.
Standing next to me, the Amish man holds his ground and watches her approach. He shoves both hands into the pockets of his coat, looking everywhere except at her. “Do kumma druvvel,” he murmurs. Here comes trouble.
I grin. “You’ve always had a soft spot for it.”
“I guess so.”
Gina reaches him and, without hesitation, throws her arms around him. It doesn’t even cross her mind that it’s inappropriate for her to press a kiss to his cheek. But that’s Gina for you. She’s an “all in” kind of woman. You get what you get.
“Is everyone all right?” she asks, pulling away, holding him at arm’s length. “The kids?”
Adam is not unaffected by her embrace. His mouth just a few inches from her ear, he murmurs something I can’t quite make out. I don’t profess to know what he’s thinking or feeling. Likely a combination of attraction and affection, both of which are tempered by the tenets of his culture and the gentility ingrained into his heart from the day of his birth.
“The children are fine,” he tells her.
“I’m glad.” Her hands slide down his arms, pausing when they meet his, and she grasps both of his in hers. “You know, I never liked little kids. They’re weird and they smell bad and ask nosy questions.” At his confused expression, her smile augments into a grin. “Sammy sort of changed my perspective.”
Adam smiles. “I’m glad he was able to open your heart.”
“Will you tell him goodbye for me?” she asks.
“I will.” He works his hands from hers and lets them fall to his sides. “Your troubles … is everything going to be all right?”
She grins, but this time her eyes are shadowed. She’s afraid of the things she’s facing. The legal maze that lies ahead. Possible jail time. The end of the only career she’s ever known.
Raising her hand, she pokes his chest with her finger. “I’m always all right, Adam Lengacher. Don’t you forget that.”
Adam isn’t sure how to respond and he says nothing.
“Thank you for everything,” she says after a moment. “For saving my ass. For letting me stay in your home. For being so kind to me.”
He looks away from her. “You are welcome.”
She offers a thoughtful smile. “Under different circumstances, I might’ve—”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I cut in, but I keep my voice light.
Adam chuckles, but he doesn’t look at me. All of his attention is focused on Gina, as if she’s some beautiful and rare animal that isn’t quite safe to touch. “Remember, Gina, God is there to give us strength for every hill we have to climb.”
Her bravado falls away. “I’ve got plenty of hills to climb in the coming weeks.” She looks away, blinking, then raises her gaze to his. “I hope you find a nice girl, Adam, and have a few more kids. I hope she makes you happy.”
Tipping his hat, the Amish man backs away from her, breaking eye contact only when he turns to climb into the sleigh. He raises his hand for a wave, and with a final look over his shoulder, he snaps the lines and drives away.
* * *
The area is lit up with emergency lights now. An ambulance and half a dozen vehicles from the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department, the Ohio State Highway Patrol, and BCI are parked along Ithaca Road, engines rumbling, clouds of exhaust billowing in the frigid air.
Gina, Tomasetti, and I are standing a few yards from the freezer shanty, looking out at the scene. The Holmes County coroner and crime scene technicians have arrived. We’re watching Doc Coblentz lug a suitcase-size case through the snow when I notice the unmarked SUV pull up. No one speaks as the two agents get out of the vehicle and approach.
A middle-aged African American man wearing a navy parka, dark slacks, and a trooper hat emblazed with the Bureau of Criminal Investigation logo stops at the top of the steps. A similarly dressed woman wearing a stocking hat pauses next to him.