Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

washer and dryer. A table saw against the wall. A couple of fifty-gallon drums.
    I hear him behind me. “Why are you snooping around my garage, anyway?”
    “The official term for it is taking a look around.” I turn, make eye contact with him. “What’s in those fifty gallon drums, Leland?”
    I hear a sound like chalk against slate. It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s grinding his teeth. I walk over to him, stop a scant foot away. I’m so close I can smell the dead-animal stench of his breath. The odors of filth and rage coming off him in waves. He’s only a few inches taller than me, older and slower, but he’s got eighty pounds on me. I suspect that beneath all that wrinkled, stinking skin is a reserve of muscle I’d be wise not to underestimate.
    “Do you know anything about that hit-and-run?” I ask.
    His lips curl, like two worms exposed to flame. “I think it’s time you hit the fuckin’ road.”
    I turn away and start toward the Explorer. “Thanks for your cooperation,” I tell him and slide in without looking back.

 
    CHAPTER 11
    Ten minutes later I’m on my way to Pomerene Hospital to talk to Mattie, not as a friend this time, but a cop. I’m not convinced the deaths of Paul Borntrager and his two children were acts of premeditated murder, but with the evidence leaning in that direction, the possibility must be explored. That means I need to ask the hard questions I’ve been putting off, and delve more deeply into Paul’s life. I need to know if he’d had any recent disagreements or disputes. If he had any enemies or if there’d been any threats against him or his family.
    It’s also my responsibility to keep Mattie apprised on how the case is progressing. That entails relaying some of the details I’d been withholding to spare her the pain of knowing the “accident” was, in fact, something more sinister. None of it’s going to be pleasant, especially when I’m tired and cranky and increasingly distracted by the discovery of Lapp’s remains.
    At the door to David’s room, I knock quietly and step inside. The air smells of an odd combination of medicine, flowers, and cinnamon. On the windowsill, a little brown teddy bear is tucked into a bouquet of pink carnations. Next to it, several gas-filled balloons tug at the ribbons that bind them to the wicker handle.
    David sleeps soundly in the bed. The bruises on his face are in full bloom, but his color is healthy. Mattie is curled on the chair with her head resting on her hands, asleep. In the recliner, a heavyset Amish woman lies on her back, snoring softly. Next to her, a partially eaten tin of homemade cinnamon rolls makes my mouth water.
    I’m debating whether to come back later when David speaks from his bed. “You want a cinnamon roll? They taste good.”
    I glance over to see him sitting up, looking at me as if I’m some stray that’s wandered into the room and needs feeding.
    “Hey.” I feel a smile spread across my face as I go to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
    “My arm hurts and I miss my datt and Norah and Sam.” Using his uninjured arm, he brushes his hand over a cast that runs from wrist to elbow. “It’s broken.”
    “I’m sorry about that.” I look down at the cast to see that someone by the name of Matthew drew a cat on it. “I like the artwork.”
    His face splits into a big smile. “We have two cats at home. Whiskers and Frito. They’re my favorites. I like it when they purr because it tickles my ear.”
    “I like cats, too.”
    “ Mamm says Datt and Norah and Sam are with God.”
    It hurts me to hear an innocent child make such a profound statement. I nod, not sure what to say to that.
    His brows knit and I know he’s trying to understand the incomprehensible: why three people he loved are gone from his life and won’t be coming back. “I think they miss me and Mamm , too. But heaven is the happiest place in the world, so we shouldn’t be sad. One of these days, I’ll be there, too, and I’m going to play hide-and-seek with Sammy and botch with Norah.”
    I’m not much on touching, but this little boy is so sweet and vulnerable, I can’t keep myself from reaching out and laying my hand over his. He looks up at me expectantly. I want badly to say something to comfort him, to reinforce and confirm what Mattie has already told him. But I find myself so moved I can’t speak.
    “Katie?”
    I turn to see Mattie rise from the chair. She looks rested, and for the first time