Page 86 of Outsider

The fencing pliers in her hand stills, and she gives me a scathing look over her shoulder. “Back to Columbus. To get this handled. Someone has to.”

“That sounds like a solid plan,” I say dryly.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Since there’s a warrant for your arrest,” I add, “my guess is they’ll welcome you with open arms.”

“Go ahead, Kate. Make light of it.” Using the pliers, grimacing with the difficulty of her task, she twists the wire, securing the hood latch to the bumper, and then snips off the excess. “Someone’s got to do something. BCI Boy seems more interested in busting my balls.”

“Tomasetti is the best friend you’ve got right now,” I tell her.

“I can’t stay here and do nothing.” She looks away from her work, meets my gaze, and the underlying implication of the statement isn’t lost on me. “Sooner or later they’re going to figure out where I am—if they haven’t already. They’re going to come for me. If something goes down … if this goes bad…” The words trail, her eyes sliding in the general direction of the children and back to me. “I don’t want that on me.”

I look at Adam, wondering if he has asked her to leave.

Recognizing my unspoken question, the Amish man nods. “She is welcome to stay for as long as she needs.”

“You don’t get it.” She gives Adam a hard look. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it because you’re Amish.”

Adam frowns. “I understand more than you realize,” he says quietly. “Different doesn’t mean dumb, Gina. It doesn’t mean I don’t understand the ways of the world. You would be a wiser person if you remembered that.” It’s the first admonition he’s given her since she arrived, and it stings even me.

Gina gets to her feet, brushes dust and bits of straw from her coat, and divides her attention between the two of us. “These men are violent. They have no conscience. No heart.” She looks past Adam, at the children, unapologetic. “They don’t care about collateral damage.”

The Amish man starts to say something, but she cuts him off. “My being here could place you and your family in danger. I’m not going to let that happen.”

She studies her handiwork, where the wire dangles over the radiator and the truck hood isn’t closed quite right, and sighs. “I have to go. I don’t have a choice.”

This time, Adam doesn’t try to stop her.

I think about the viability of taking her to the farm where Tomasetti and I live via snowmobile or even checking her into a motel. While she would be facing the same danger, such a move would at least assure us that the children weren’t at risk.

“Gina.” I say her name gently. “Even if you could make it to the highway—which you can’t—going back to Columbus isn’t going to solve anything. In fact, it would likely make things worse. And it could be dangerous for you.”

“I can’t sit around and do nothing. Not my style. This has to end.”

“We’ll end it. But we have to do it the right way. At the right time. Not like this. You can’t do it alone.”

“I’m it, Kate. It’s my neck on the chopping block and I plan to do everything in my power to save it.”

“You don’t even have a plan.”

“Before this latest fiasco, I thought I might be able to take what I know to the media. I’ve gotten to know a couple of journalists over the years. People who know me. People who’re interested in the truth.” She raps her palm against the hood. “With the leak of the phony video, that option is off the table.”

“Gina, let Tomasetti do his job. He’s good at what he does.”

“Katie is right.” Adam’s gaze falls on Gina. “You cannot stop these men with guns on your own. Not alone.”

“My being here could place you and your family in danger,” she hisses, more forcefully this time.

“God will watch over us,” he tells her. “That is the one thing I know for certain.”

Her face softens and for the first time since she arrived, bleeding and hypothermic, her eyes mist. “I don’t have your faith, Adam.”

The Amish man looks down at his hands, then raises his gaze to hers. “Standing your ground is easier when you are grounded in God’s word.”

The three of us fall silent; I’m aware of the chatter of the children and the patter of snow against the tin roof of the barn. After a moment, I cross to the truck, set my hand on the fender. “Gina, the secondary roads are impassable. If we’re unable to get around, everyone else is unable to get around. At the very least that buys us some time. A day or two, at which point we can take you to the farm until this thing comes to a head.”

“For God’s sake.” Throwing up her hand in frustration, Gina flings the pliers to the ground. They thump to the dirt floor a foot or so from the truck and bounce away.