Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

and Michael Armitage. I’ve been put on administrative leave, though I’ve been told I’ll be back on the job by tomorrow afternoon. I haven’t slept since that night. Strangely, I’m not tired. I haven’t been able to eat, but I’m not hungry. I’m hurting, but it’s a silent pain because, after that first morning with Tomasetti, I haven’t been able to cry.
    Being here today is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life. Tomasetti tried to talk me out of it. It’s not the first time I didn’t heed his good advice. Avoiding Mattie’s parents made me feel like a coward. I’m a lot of things—and not all of those things are good. But I’m not a coward.
    Ten yards away, the door to the milk barn stands open, so I pick up the cat carrier and the brown paper bag that contains his kibble and head that way. I hear the generator that powers the milk machine rumbling from inside the small building next to the barn. I find Andy Erb in the aisle, sanitizing the udders of the cows he’s just brought in from the field. The rest of the cattle are in stanchions and David is pouring feed into the long feeder.
    Man and boy look up from their work when I approach. “Guder mariya,” I say.
    Andy Erb stiffens. His expression doesn’t change as he straightens and looks at me. He reaches for his grandson, but young David is already running toward me, grinning. “We’re getting ready to milk the cows. Do you wanna watch? I know how to do it.”
    I muss his hair, amazed at how resilient he is. That life goes on for him, even without his mother, father, and siblings. “It looks like fun, sweetheart, but I can’t stay.”
    He’s already eyeing the pet carrier. “What’s inside the little box?” he asks.
    Andy approaches us, sets his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and eases him away from me. When the Amish man’s eyes meet mine, I feel an instant of guilt. I spent half of my life wondering if he’d abused his daughter, never doubting Mattie’s insinuation that he had. I’d hated him; I’d hated his wife for looking the other way. If Mattie had asked for my help, I would have done anything to protect her from them. Now, as an adult—and a police officer—I’m relieved she hadn’t, because we would have destroyed this man’s life and torn his family apart in the process.
    Andy’s eyes flick to the house, telling me Mattie’s mother, Lizzie, is inside and I’m not to go there. “She doesn’t want to see you.”
    “Mr. Erb…” I say his name, but all the words I so diligently rehearsed on the way over tangle in my throat. Instead, I shove the cat carrier at him. “I brought this,” I blurt. “For David.”
    “What is it? I want to see!” The boy disentangles himself from his grandfather’s hands and bends to peer inside. “ Grossdaddi ! Sis kot ! An orange one! Can I keep him?”
    To the cat’s credit, he doesn’t hiss.
    Erb stares at the cat as if he’s never seen one before. After a moment, he pulls a white kerchief from the pocket of his trousers and wipes his eyes. “Is he a good mouser?” he asks.
    “He’s the laziest cat I’ve ever owned,” I tell him. “He’s got an unpleasant personality. A mean streak, actually. He hisses. A lot. Sometimes he scratches. But he’s never bitten me. I suspect he never forgave me for having him neutered.”
    The Amish man nods. “He sounds like a good cat.”
    David lets out a squeal. “What’s his name?”
    “I’ve been calling him Custer, but you can rename him if you like.”
    “Hi there, Custer. Wei bischt du heit ?” David peers into the carrier. “You have a nice pink nose.”
    I kneel next to the boy. Setting both hands on his shoulders, I turn him to face me. “You promise to take good care of him? Make sure he has plenty of food and water at all times, right? Make sure he has shade in the summer and a warm place to curl up in winter?”
    “ Ja ! We’re going to be best friends. I won’t be lonely anymore.”
    I offer him the carrier, trying not to look at the cat. I’m not attached to him. Sure, he’s gotten me through some tough times; I’ll miss him. But I work too many hours to be a good owner to him. Besides, David needs him more than I do.
    “Offer him some milk, David,” Mr. Erb says.
    “Okay, Grossdaddi. ” The boy looks into the carrier and eyes the cat. “You’re going to like the milk here, Custer.”
    He starts to walk away, but I stop him with, “Hey.”
    He grins at me and I bend to