Page 102 of Outsider

“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.

Tomasetti extends his hand to both of them. No introductions are made; none are needed. Just a minute or two of weather-related small talk that’s stilted and uncomfortable. Neither of them is here to talk about the cold or snow, but to arrest one of their own, a duty no cop relishes.

After a minute, the female agent reaches into a compartment on her belt and removes a pair of handcuffs. Next to me, I hear Gina’s intake of breath, the sound of her slowly releasing it as she shores up for what’s next.

“Gina Colorosa?” the female agent asks.

Gina squares her shoulders and steps forward, her expression impassive. “I’m Colorosa.”