Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

could drive down and we could hang out. Go on a picnic. Have sex. Not necessarily in that order.”
    A laugh squeezes from my throat. “Tomasetti, you are so full of shit.”
    “Don’t go all sentimental on me. I’m getting choked up.”
    “I didn’t know you were on vacation.”
    “It was a take-it-or-lose-it situation.”
    I think about that a moment. “Let me tie up a few things here, and I’ll let you know.”
    “Don’t wait too long.”
    “I won’t.”
    “You sure you’re all right?”
    “I am now,” I tell him and disconnect.
    *   *   *
    Sleep is a fickle thing that has little to do with fatigue and everything to do with peace of mind. When I finally fall into a fitful slumber, I dream of Mattie and Paul, and two dead children who stare at me with accusing black eyes and rotting mouths that chant schinnerhannes! schinnerhannes! , which is the Pennsylvania Dutch word for a man who hauls away dead farm animals.
    I jerk awake to the sound of tapping. I’m tangled in the sheets and slicked with sweat. I don’t know the source of the sound, but I’m relieved to be free of the nightmare’s grip. I sit up, listening. A glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand tells me it’s almost 4:30 A.M. I’m trying to convince myself I only imagined the sound when it comes again and I realize someone’s at the door.
    Throwing the blankets aside, I get up, snag my revolver off the nightstand, and pad into the hall. Tap. Tap. Tap. Not the front door, I realize, and I move silently through the dark and into the kitchen. A few feet away from the back door, I recognize his silhouette against the curtains. Setting my weapon on the counter, I cross to the door and open it.
    John Tomasetti stands on my back porch, frowning as if he’s got every right to be here despite the hour and I’ve kept him waiting too long. “I’m sorry to wake you,” he begins.
    I laugh at that because we both know he’s not. I take a moment to process the picture of him, standing there, looking at me as if I’m the only person left in the world and he’s ravenous for company, and I know this is one of those small slices of time that I’ll never forget. Instead of his usual slacks and jacket, he’s wearing faded blue jeans and a navy golf shirt. Shoes that look like a cross between a hiker and a work boot. His usual office pallor has been replaced by a tan.
    “Vacation looks good on you,” I say.
    “You look good on me.”
    That makes me grin and I open the door wider. “Is everything okay?”
    “You mean aside from the slight paranoia that goes along with parking in the alley behind the police chief’s house?”
    “I thought that was part of the allure,” I say.
    “Not even close.”
    I catch a whiff of his aftershave as he steps past me, and my midsection flutters in a way that’s now familiar: a powerful mix of attraction, affection, and excitement.
    “You know we’re probably not going to be able to keep this a secret too much longer,” I say, closing the door behind him.
    “I’d hate to be the one to put a black mark on your reputation.”
    “One more added to the collection isn’t going to make a difference.”
    Up until this point, we’ve sort of been dancing around each other. Not getting too close. Not touching. Neither of us wanting to make that first telling move. If it wasn’t such an uncomfortable moment, I might have laughed at the absurdity of it.
    I break the silence with, “I’ve got a couple of Killian’s in the fridge.”
    “I thought you might.”
    Before I can turn away, he reaches out and takes my arm, pulls me to him. Wrapping his fingers around both my biceps, he pushes me backward until my rump collides with the counter. I look into his eyes to find them dark and fixed on me, and my knees go weak. Then he bends to me and his mouth is on mine. I dive into the kiss with everything I have. His lips are firm and warm and move against mine with an urgency that sucks the breath from my lungs. My arms go around his neck. My body presses flush against his. I feel the hard ridge of him against my belly. His hands skim restlessly down the sides of my ribcage. Sensation courses through me with such power that I have to close my eyes against it, like some crazy ride at the county fair, the kind where you’re dizzy and holding your breath but you never want it to end.
    After a moment, he pulls back and smiles down at me. “I’ve missed you.”
    “I can tell.”
    He laughs and then