Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

tried to persuade him to do away with Paul. She used the promise of sex as a lure. Once she realized he didn’t have what it took, she turned to Armitage.”
    “That’s classic sociopath behavior.”
    “Initially, I thought Kuhns was a viable suspect. But he wasn’t. It was her. Kuhns was in love with her. Nothing more than an errant husband. That’s why he was so worried about us talking to his wife.”
    Tomasetti crosses the distance between us and stops a foot away from me. “What about the boy?”
    I see David’s face in my mind’s eye. The way he looked at me when I handed him the carrier. The simple joy in his eyes at the sight of the cat. The protective way his grandfather set his gnarled hand on his shoulder. “I think he’s going to be okay.”
    He tilts his head, as if trying to get a better look at my face. “What about you?”
    “You know me.” I smile, but it feels tremulous on my face. “I always land on my feet.”
    He nods, but I see something in his eyes that belies the gesture. “I hate to bring this up, but I thought you should know. Sheriff Redmon has requested a forensic anthropologist from BCI. They’ve already identified those pellets as number six lead shot.”
    The words impact me like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. The kind that takes your breath and makes you sick to your stomach. I look away, trying to absorb the enormity of them. I should have been prepared; I’d known all of this would come. But there are some things no one can ever prepare for. The reemergence of a past that wields the power to destroy your life is one of them.
    “I wasn’t expecting that,” I tell him.
    “I know. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
    “So what’s next? I mean, in terms of the case?” Even as I ask the question, I already know.
    “They’re trying to extract DNA from the teeth.”
    I nod, grappling for a calm I don’t feel. “This hits kind of close to home for you, doesn’t it?”
    Tomasetti ignores the statement. “The FA is going to take a look at everything. Soil. Whatever’s left of the clothing. Whatever was in the pockets. The bones are probably going to be the most important in terms of cause and manner of death.”
    “I thought … I mean, I’d hoped … there would be some deterioration.”
    “I’m sure there is, but to what extent, we don’t know.”
    I can actually feel the blood stalling and going cold in my veins as the reality of the situation sinks in.
    “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you’ve been carrying this around inside you for a long time. I know you want it to be over.”
    “How long do you think the investigation will take?”
    “You know nothing ever happens quickly in these kinds of situations. Everything has to be looked at. Labs get backed up. Reports have to be written.” He shrugs. “A few months.”
    I’ve borne the knowledge of what happened that terrible day for half of my life. I learned to live with what I did. I learned to cohabitate, however uneasily, with the knowledge that I took a man’s life, that my family covered it up. I learned to deal with the ever-present fear of discovery and the possibility that if the truth is revealed, my life as I know it would end.
    As if reading my thoughts, he adds, “They’re not going to be able to tie you to the case, Kate. I’ve looked at every angle. There’s nothing there. No evidence.”
    “I have to be prepared either way. So do you.”
    He bends, picks up a five-gallon can of paint, and dumps some into the pan. Straightening, he saturates the roller and goes to work on another section of the ceiling.
    “Look, Kate, I know you’ve already tried and convicted yourself, but those bones are too deteriorated to reveal any meaningful evidence. Coroner’s going to rule cause and manner of death undetermined.”
    “What if you’re wrong?” I ask. “What if by some fluke we haven’t conceived, they link Lapp’s death to me? Tomasetti, that could pose a problem for you, especially if we’re living together. It could put you in a precarious position. It could affect your career.”
    He stops painting, lowers the roller to his side, and turns to stare at me, his expression perplexed. “You like to keep a guy on his toes, don’t you?”
    “Sometimes it just works out that way.” I try to smile, but don’t quite manage. “I think it’s something you need to consider.”
    “I’ve considered everything I need to consider.” He sets down the roller and