Page 30 of Outsider

“Where’s your vehicle?” Tomasetti asks her.

“I’m not sure. It was dark and snowing like crazy. I had no idea where I was.” Gina looks at Adam and raises her brows.

The Amish man nods. “A couple of miles north on Township Road 36. It’s in the ditch. Twenty feet off the road.”

“Sheriff’s department finds an abandoned vehicle and they’ll call in the plate.” Tomasetti slants a look at Gina. “What’s the plate going to tell them?”

“That it belongs to a man by the name of Phillip Rifkin from Westerville.”

Tomasetti sighs. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Everything except this storm,” she returns evenly.

“There’s not much traffic out that way,” I point out. “Sheriff’s department is likely operating on a skeleton crew due to the storm. That’s not to mention the roads are impassable. I don’t think anyone is going to be patrolling the secondary roads until the storm lets up.”

Gina startles when the wind rattles the kitchen window. She recovers quickly, sends me a tense look. “I know this is a bad situation.” Her eyes move from me to Tomasetti. “All I ask is that you look into the things I’ve told you. When the time comes, I’ll do everything in my power to back it up.”

She turns her attention to Adam. “I know my presence has disrupted your home. I know the circumstances must be confusing and upsetting for your children, and I’m sorry for that.”

“The Amish do not turn away anyone in need. You are welcome to say until the storm passes. Both of you.” He says the words with earnestness, but when he looks at me, I see hesitation, and I know the part of him that is bound by Amish norms is at war with the part of him that is a father.

Nodding, he re-zips his coat. “I’m going to give Samuel a hand.”

When he’s gone, Tomasetti addresses Gina. “You know you’re a fugitive.”

She looks down at the tabletop. “Yeah, I got that,” she says dryly.

He moves away from the counter and looks down at her. “If you’ve lied about any of this, I will make it my mission in life to bury you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she says.

I walk Tomasetti to the front door. He’s back in the snowsuit, the helmet at his side, looking as troubled as I feel. Neither of us is thinking about the weather anymore.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I think this is a clusterfuck.” He grimaces. “The only reason she’s not in the county jail right now is because I know there’s some kind of ongoing investigation involving the vice unit.”

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” I ask.

He takes his time answering. “I believe the scenario she laid out is plausible. Whether we’re getting the whole story…” He shrugs. “Her assertion that there were questions about the warrant in which the Garners were killed is correct, by the way. Most judges won’t sign off on a warrant based on the word of a CI. I need to call in some favors, apply some pressure if I can. If this investigation is being led by another agency, my getting anything concrete is going to be tough.”

“How do you feel about the audio recording?”

“I think it could be interpreted a number of different ways. Useful for the time being. If this moves forward, it could garner some interest. Likely inadmissible if this thing ever goes to court. Bottom line, it’s not enough.”

From where we’re standing, I can hear young Sammy on the porch outside chatting with his datt, his shovel scraping across the wood planks. The heavy curtains are parted slightly, and I can see him running the shovel across the floor, pitching the snow over the rail. It’s more play than work, but then that’s the Amish way.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask.

“I’ll see what else I can find out or verify.” Sighing, he turns to me, his expression grim. “Kate, you know I have to talk to my superiors about this.”

Of course I knew that would be the case. Cops don’t harbor fugitives from the law—even if said fugitive is a cop with a story to tell. Still, a sense of unease moves through me, because involving BCI will invariably complicate an already complicated—and delicate—situation.

“I’ll start with Denny McNinch,” he says, referring to the special agent supervisor, his boss.

McNinch and Tomasetti have a complex relationship and they’ve had their differences in the years they’ve worked together. Both men have strong personalities and no compunction about speaking their minds, even when their opinions differ. They’ve weathered difficult times; McNinch has seen Tomasetti at his worst—and most vulnerable—namely in the months after a career criminal murdered Tomasetti’s wife and two little girls eight years ago. But McNinch is as much politician as he is cop. He was fair while Tomasetti worked through his losses—defending him even when his work suffered—but McNinch has a reputation for protecting himself first and foremost.

“I have no idea how this is going to play out.” He tilts his head, lowers his voice. “I’m usually pretty good at getting a handle on someone. I couldn’t get a read on Colorosa.”