Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

any enemies? Have you been involved in any disputes or arguments? Anything you can think of that might have led to this?”
    “No, of course not.”
    “Any problems related to the children? Or money perhaps?” I think of her beauty and add. “Any jealousy?”
    “No, Katie. None of those things.”
    “What about strangers? Have you seen any strange vehicles or buggies in the area? Driving by too often? Anyone watching you or the house or the children?”
    “No. That’s just crazy.”
    Out of the corner of my eye I see Miriam peek at us from the kitchen, casting a reproachful look my way. I stare at her until she turns away. “What about in town?”
    “Nothing like that has happened.”
    I stare at her for a second, noticing the pale, dry lips. Flesh the color of a bruise beneath her eyes. The part of me that was once her best friend wants to spare her these questions. I want to protect her from the likelihood that someone wishes her harm. But the part of me that is a cop knows I can’t. “Is it possible Paul was being unfaithful? Maybe there was a jealous husband?”
    I know she’s going down an instant before her eyes roll back. Her knees buckle. Her head lolls back. I lunge forward, catch her beneath her arms just in time to keep her from hitting the floor. But she’s too heavy for me; her body is slack, dead weight in my arms. Though she’s small framed, the best I can do is break her fall.
    “Mattie. Mattie! ”
    The two Amish women rush into the mudroom.
    I position her on the floor so that she’s lying on her back. Miriam kneels beside her. “You and your Englischer ways.” She snaps the words without looking at me. “What did you do to her?”
    “She collapsed,” I tell her.
    “You are bad for her,” she says nastily. “You were always bad for her and you still are.”
    I know better than to let the words affect me, but they hit some obscure bull’s-eye, that small part of me that, even after all these years, still longs to belong despite the fact that I’m not wanted. “Shut up, Miriam.” I pull out my cell to call for an ambulance.
    She hisses at me, bats my phone away with her hand. “She is fine.” Miriam looks over her shoulder at the younger woman. “Bring me a wet towel and a pillow.”
    Leaning over Mattie, Miriam slips her hand beneath Mattie’s head and lifts it slightly. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she whispers.
    Dispatch responds to my call. “Ten fifty two,” I say, giving the code for requesting an ambulance.
    “She’ll be fine as soon as you stop badgering her with questions and scaring the daylights out of her,” Miriam snaps.
    Ignoring her, I give the dispatcher the address.
    I’m in the process of clipping my phone to my belt when Mattie’s eyes flutter open. For an instant, she stares at me as if she doesn’t recognize me. Then she startles, gets her elbows beneath her, and tries to rise. “What…”
    “You had a spell is all,” Miriam coos.
    “You fainted,” I tell her.
    “I’m … fine,” Mattie says quickly. “I just … got a little dizzy.”
    The younger Amish woman arrives with a damp kitchen towel and an embroidered pillow from the sofa.
    “You just lie still for a moment.” Miriam sets the towel on Mattie’s forehead and then slides the pillow beneath her head. “Catch your breath.” She orders the younger Amish woman to fetch a glass of water, then addresses me: “We don’t need an ambulance. What she needs is some peace and quiet, two things that don’t happen whenever you’re around, Katie Burkholder.”
    I direct my words to Mattie. “You should get yourself checked out at the hospital.”
    “It was just a dizzy spell, Katie. I’m okay … just tired from everything that’s happened.”
    “We’ll take care of her,” Miriam tells me. “She’ll be fine once you and your questions go away.”
    The words make me sigh. I shake my head, knowing that when the ambulance arrives, Mattie will probably refuse treatment. Still, I don’t cancel the call.
    I glance down at her and offer a smile. She looks embarrassed, not only because she fainted, but because her caregiver is being rude to me. “I’ll let you get some rest,” I tell her.
    She raises her hand to mine. I take it and squeeze. “I’m fine,” she says, offering a tentative smile. “Don’t worry. Miriam will take good care of me.”
    I get the impression Miriam doesn’t much care for either of us, but I don’t say the words. “Will you