Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

do me a favor?” I ask.
    “Of course I will.”
    “Keep your doors locked. Watch your back.”
    Miriam makes a sound of annoyance.
    Mattie holds on to her smile, but for the first time I see an uneasiness that wasn’t there before. I know she doesn’t need anything more to deal with, but I also know there are times when fear is a healthy thing, when a look over your shoulder might be the only thing that saves your life.
    *   *   *
    While I’m sitting in the Explorer, waiting for the ambulance to arrive, I pull out my cell and call T.J. “You in the mood for some O.T.?” I begin.
    “I’m game. What do you have in mind?”
    “I want you to camp out at the Borntrager farm tonight.”
    “Sure.” He falls silent. “You think someone’s going to go after the wife, too?”
    “I don’t know. I’d just feel better if we could keep an eye on things out here.”
    “Damn, Chief. That’s bizarre. Why would someone want an Amish lady dead? I mean, an Amish mother with three little kids to take care of?”
    “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.”
    The ambulance arrives, the red and blue lights flashing, no siren. I watch as the paramedics are turned away at the door and I sigh.
    “Let me know if you figure it out.”
    *   *   *
    It’s a dangerous thing when a cop knows too much about a crime, especially if said cop possesses information that would be helpful to the investigating agency and doesn’t speak up. I don’t know if the bones found in the grain elevator will ever be positively identified. Seventeen years have passed. Investigators are reliant upon DNA or dental records, neither of which may exist. That doesn’t mean I’m home free. Not even close.
    Rural areas have long memories when it comes to any kind of major crime, an inescapable fact that doesn’t bode well in terms of my avoiding getting sucked into the case. It was big news when Daniel Lapp went missing. Many believed he’d left town to escape the heavy hand of the Amish. But not everyone. Not his parents. Certainly not his brother, Benjamin.
    By virtue of the timing alone, the police will question Benjamin. Once they learn Daniel was last seen at my parents’ farm, they’ll be knocking on my door, Sarah’s door, and Jacob’s door, asking questions none of us want to answer, just like they did seventeen years ago. This time, however, they’ll be wondering why I didn’t come to them first. I wonder if it would be beneficial for me to call Sheriff Redmon and start lying now, instead of waiting and letting them come to me.
    I burn through an hour, stuck behind my desk, returning calls and e-mails and putting out fires. After receiving a slew of media inquiries earlier in the day, I ask Jodie to write a press release, a generic piece that basically rehashes the things everyone already knows. For now, it’s going to have to be enough. Best case, it will buy me some time, because this story has all the hallmarks of a sensational headline in the making. It’s Amish focused, includes a father and two dead children, and a mystery that expands with every new piece of information tossed our way.
    At seven o’clock, Rasmussen returns my call. “Around-the-clock protection?” He laughs. “Are you kidding?”
    “Not protection, exactly.” I hedge, knowing my request is so far out there, he’s well within his bounds to laugh at me. “Mattie might’ve been the target. I’d feel better knowing someone was out there, keeping an eye on things.”
    “In a perfect world, we could do that. As you know, we don’t live in a perfect world.”
    “Mike.”
    “Look, I can have my guys drive by every so often,” he offers. “Round-the-clock is out of the question.”
    “Can’t you spare one deputy?” I ask. “One shift?”
    “Wish I could, Kate. I just don’t have the budget for O.T. We’re already operating on a skeleton crew here. I wish I could help, but I can’t.”
    I sigh, only slightly peeved because I know he’d do it if he could. “I’ll figure something out.”
    “Look, while I have you on the phone … I heard from the lab on that piece of wood Luke Miller found,” he tells me. “The indentation is, indeed, from a bolt. And it’s recent.”
    “How recent?”
    “Days or maybe even hours.”
    “Is it from the sheared pin we found at the scene?”
    “That’s the kicker. It’s not the same.”
    “Do the lab guys have any idea what that pin is for?”
    “They’re running some comps,