Gone Missing (Kate Burkholder 4)

says.
    “Couldn’t sleep.”
    He turns his attention back to the whiteboard. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we don’t know the suspect.”
    We study the whiteboard for a full minute, neither of us speaking. “I think we’re missing something,” he says finally.
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know yet.” He walks over to the map and reads aloud what I’ve written. “Once we figure out the motive, we’ll figure out the who.” He turns to me. “The overriding question being: Why the Amish?”
    “Not just the Amish,” I remind him. “Young Amish who have considered leaving that way of life.”
    He nods. “Who would be off ended by that? I mean, off ended so profoundly that he’d go to extreme measures?”
    “Someone who is devout.” I toss out the first thing that comes to mind, playing off his question, brainstorming. “Someone who disapproves of the way these young people are living their lives. Someone who believes they should be punished.” I look at Tomasetti. “Frank Gilfillan and the Twelve Passages Church.”
    “Is he trying to punish them? Recruit them? Or redeem them?”
    “Maybe all three.”
    “So the fact that these Amish teens are confused about their religious beliefs makes them vulnerable. That’s a benefit to Gilfillan. That’s how he finds them.”
    “Maybe Annie King refused to be recruited,” I venture.
    “That could fit,” Tomasetti says.
    “I’m starting to like Gilfillan for this.” I find myself wanting to return to Buck Creek with him in the morning, so I can be there when they execute the warrant. But I can’t leave with Sadie missing. Not when the last missing girl turned up dead.
    An image of Sadie flashes in my mind’s eye. I see her as she was that day on the bridge in her skimpy tank top, with her long brown arms and reckless, engaging smile. Sadie with a can of beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Sadie rolling around on the ground and throwing punches with the abandon of a born street fighter.
    “Tomasetti, I don’t want to lose this girl,” I say quietly.
    “I know.”
    “Sadie is . . .” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. I almost said “special,” but I know in my heart she’s no more special than the others. All of them are someone’s daughter or son or brother or sister. All of them are loved.
    “We’ll get him,” he says.
    “She’s hard to handle. She won’t acquiesce.” I stare at the whiteboard, but I no longer see the words. “She might not have much time.”
    “Kate, we’re doing everything we can.”
    That’s one of the things I admire about Tomasetti; he’ll never prop me up with false hope. He’ll never make promises he can’t keep, no matter how desperately I need to hear them.
    He crosses to me. “I know what you’re thinking.”
    I smile, but it feels crooked on my face. “That I wish I wasn’t on the wagon?”
    He’s standing so close, I can smell the remnants of his aftershave, feel the heat radiating from his body against mine. I see the five o’clock shadow on his jaw, the capillaries in eyes that are red from lack of sleep and too many hours on the road.
    He frowns, but not in a serious way. “You’re beating yourself up because you’re not out there looking for her.”
    The urge to argue is strong. But I don’t. Mainly because he’s right. “Do you want me to lie down on the sofa so you can ask me how I feel about that?”
    “I know this is going to be a stunning revelation for you, Kate, but you and I need sleep and downtime, just like everyone else.”
    “You’re not trying to tell me we’re human, are you?”
    He offers a wan smile, but his eyes remain serious. “I wish I could tell you we’re going to go out there tomorrow and find her and bring her home. That we’re going to get this guy. We both know it doesn’t always work out that way.”
    When I look away, he puts his fingertips under my chin and guides my gaze back to his. “The one thing I can tell you is that we’re doing our best. That’s all anyone can do. That’s got to be enough.”
    I don’t intend to reach for him. But one moment, I’m standing there, feeling shredded and unbearably guilty. The next, my arms are around Tomasetti’s shoulders and his mouth is fastened to mine. The power of the kiss makes my head spin. My body surges to life with an intensity that shocks me. I’m caught in a flash flood and tumbling out of control. . . .
    He grasps my biceps, and then my back is against the wall.