Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

me and trying to get a handle on my frame of mind. Good luck with that.
    We fall silent again. To my right, the faucet drips into the sink. The vent at the bottom of the refrigerator rattles when the motor kicks on. “Did Rasmussen find the truck parked in the barn behind the clinic?”
    Tomasetti nods. “It’s already been towed to impound for processing.”
    “It’s the vehicle Armitage used to killed Paul Borntrager and his two children. Tomasetti, there was a snow blade attached…” I lose my breath and can’t finish the sentence.
    “I know,” he says gently.
    “That son of a bitch murdered those two sweet children,” I tell him. “How could someone do that? How could Mattie allow it?”
    He stares at me. “I don’t know.”
    For the span of several minutes neither of us speaks. We contemplate each other. I can only imagine how I must look to him. Emotionally shaky. Too involved. Slightly off. I feel like glass that’s been blown too thin and will shatter at the slightest touch.
    “She almost killed me.” I try to swallow, but I don’t have enough moisture in my mouth. “I loved her like my own sister. What in the name of God happened to her?” It hurts to say the words, and for the first time tears threaten.
    Tomasetti looks away, sighs. “I don’t know, Kate.”
    “Have her parents been told?”
    “I don’t know.” He glances at his watch. “Probably by now.”
    “I should have done it. I should have been the one to tell them.”
    “You’re the last person who should be talking to them about their daughter. You’re exactly where you need to be.” He walks to the refrigerator, pulls two bottles of Killian’s Irish Red from the shelf, turns back to me, and holds them up. “In lieu of the Absolut.” He sets the bottle on the table and pulls out my chair. “Sit down.”
    I lower myself into the chair and pick up the beer, but I don’t drink. “Mattie and Armitage … I think they were having an affair.”
    “That makes sense.”
    “The night there was an intruder at her farm. It was Armitage.” I think about that a moment, feeling foolish and inept. “He couldn’t stay away from her. He didn’t know I was watching the place. It was Mattie who broke the glass. To cover for him. I was too blind to see any of it.” I look up from the tabletop and meet his gaze. “He killed Paul and the children so he could have her for himself.” I take a drink of the beer, but I don’t taste it. “I think she knew. About all of it.”
    “The truth will come out.”
    “Tomasetti, I knew her. Inside and out. Her thoughts. Her dreams. Her heart. I can’t believe I didn’t see something. I should have—”
    “Some people lie to their last breath.”
    “She was my best friend.”
    “I’m your best friend.”
    The words, the kindness, and the truth behind them triggers something inside me, like the shattering of glass. Setting down the beer, I lower my face into my hands and begin to cry.
    *   *   *
    It took me two days to catch the cat. It’s not that he doesn’t like me. He does. But he’s feral. Like me, he’s been kicked around a little and sometimes it shows, usually to his own detriment. He doesn’t easily trust. Sometimes he scratches the people who care for him most. I finally nab him using his favorite food. He’s not a happy camper when I put him in the carrier.
    “It’s for your own good,” I tell him as I lug the carrier to my rental car and place it on the passenger seat.
    He responds by hissing at me.
    Ten minutes later, I take the Toyota Corolla down the lane of Mattie’s parents’ farm. I pass by an old barn with a fresh coat of white paint, and then the lane curls right, taking me toward the house.
    It’s been seventeen years since I’ve been here, but so little has changed I feel as if I’m fifteen years old again as the house looms into view. The kitchen window where Mattie and I used to wash dishes while we whispered about boys still looks out over a cornfield that never seems to produce enough corn. The big maple tree still stands sentinel outside the window that had once been Mattie’s bedroom. The same tree she climbed down the night we went to see the midnight screening of Basic Instinct. Even the clothesline post still leans slightly toward the barn. I wonder how a place can remain the same for so many years when the rest of the world barrels on with such astounding speed.
    It’s been two days since my ordeal at the clinic with Mattie