Page 10 of Outsider

“What the hell does that mean?”

The old wiliness flickers in her eyes. “Where’s my gun?”

“You mean the gun you pointed at the unarmed Amish man who was with his children and trying to help you?”

“That would be the one.” Sighing, she sinks back into the mattress. “Look, I’m sorry. I barely remember. I mean, I was in and out by that point. I’d been in the snow a long time.” She shrugs. “I didn’t know who he was or what he was up to.”

A quiet alarm starts to simmer at the back of my brain. Not a clanging bell warning me of impending danger, but a more subtle hum that stirs when someone’s not being up front. I’m well versed in the symptoms of hypothermia. I’ve seen a dozen cases in the years I’ve been a cop. The hunter that fell through the ice on Painters Creek a couple years ago. The kid who plunged through the ice on Miller’s Pond last winter. Confusion is common. Is that the case here? Or is there something else going on?

“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask.

“It was sort of a last-minute decision.”

“Why is that?”

“Let’s just say it was unplanned.”

A youngster’s voice in the hall draws my attention. I turn to see Adam taking a mug from a girl of about seven. She’s curious, her inquisitive eyes probing the mysterious Englischer woman. Her datt is on to her and he’s quick to send her on her way.

“Go to the root cellar and get a couple jars of sausage for supper,” he tells her. “Beets, too. Have Annie help you.”

“Okay.” She cranes her neck for a final peek and then turns and leaves.

Adam brings the mug into the room, passes it to Gina. “Tea,” he tells her. “It’s hot.”

“Thank you.” She wriggles to a sitting position, accepts the mug, and gives him a contrite look. “I’m sorry about what happened out there,” she says. “I mean, with the gun. I’m a police officer, and I didn’t know what your intentions were. I’m sorry if I frightened you and your children.”

He nods.

She blows on the tea and sips. “My name’s Gina, by the way.”

“Adam Lengacher,” he says. “You’re warming up?”

“Yes. Finally. Thank you.”

He looks at me, not quite comfortable with all this. “I tossed more wood on the stove.”

The window rattles with a sudden gust wind. Gina startles so violently tea sloshes over the rim of the cup. “Shit,” she hisses, glancing down at the spill. “Sorry.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Adam glance my way. Grabbing the towel, I move to her and blot the spill. “You expecting someone?” I say under my breath.

“Not yet.”

I stop blotting and meet her gaze. “So what aren’t you telling me, Gina?”

Her laugh is short-lived. “Still have that suspicious mind, don’t you?”

“I guess that’s why I’m a cop,” I tell her. “I’ve got a pretty decent built-in lie detector. You’d be wise to remember that.”

Outside, the wind howls, hurling snow against the window, the panes trembling beneath the force.

“I’m in trouble,” she whispers.

“What kind of trouble?” I ask.

Her gaze flicks to Adam and back to me, telling me she doesn’t want to discuss it in front of him. “It’s bad.”

Realizing she’s asking for some privacy, the Amish man clears his throat. “I’ve got to drop hay for the cattle,” he tells us. “I won’t be long.”