Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

never hired out help. He did all the work himself to save money.”
    “What about while you were in town? Has anyone bothered you recently? Or said something inappropriate? Paid too much attention to you?”
    Her brows knit as if she’s thinking back, trying to remember. “No.”
    “Maybe it was something that didn’t seem unusual at the time,” I prod. “An odd look as someone passed you on the street.”
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember any such thing.”
    I recall the way the suspect scaled the fence. He’s in good physical condition. Athletic. “What about teenagers, Mattie? Any teenage boys misbehaving around you? Saying things they shouldn’t?”
    “I don’t even know any teenaged boys.” She raises her gaze to mine. “I think it must be someone I don’t know.”
    I don’t respond, because I’m familiar with the statistics. If someone has become fixated on Mattie, chances are she has at least met him at some point.
    “What about your children?” I ask. “Has anyone approached them? Said or done anything inappropriate?”
    “No.”
    “What about Paul? Did he mention anyone approaching him or causing problems?”
    “Just Enos Wengerd.” We fall silent. Mattie looks down at her hands, her expression anxious and upset. “Katie, I’m scared. If he’d gotten into the house, he could have killed us both.”
    I choose my next words carefully. I don’t want to frighten her any more than she already is, but I know that in cases like this one, ignorance is never bliss. “I want you to talk to your datt and see if he’ll stay here with you for a while. At least until we figure out what’s going on. Or maybe you could pack a few things and stay with your parents.”
    “I’ll check with datt. ”
    “You need to be proactive about your personal safety. That means be aware of your surroundings at all times, Mattie. Keep your doors locked, day and night. Let me know if you need to go into town and I’ll either go with you or have someone accompany you. I’m going to get you a cell phone, too.”
    “No cell phone, Katie. You know the Ordnung forbids—”
    I silence her by raising my hand. “Don’t argue, Mattie. This is a serious situation. No one needs to know.”
    Her mouth tightens, but she’s either too smart—or too scared—to argue.
    “I’ll do my best to keep an officer here at the farm, too, but I can’t guarantee it.”
    “I understand.”
    I sigh. “Do you keep a firearm here at the house?”
    “Paul keeps a shotgun in our closet. For hunting.”
    “Do you know how to use it?”
    “Katie, I haven’t fired a shotgun since I was ten years old and my datt took me quail—”
    “That’s not what I asked.”
    “Yes. I know how to use it.”
    “What about shells?”
    “There’s a box on the shelf, I think.”
    “I want you to load it. Keep it out of David’s reach. But keep it loaded and handy. Do you understand?”
    “Of course I understand.”
    I stare at her, hating it that she looks more frightened now than when I arrived.
    *   *   *
    It’s nearly dawn by the time the CSU arrives. I leave him with instructions to capture any footwear imprints from the path in the woods and the perimeter of the house, and to dust the back door for fingerprints. Twice, Glock suggested I swing by the hospital to have the cut on my cheek checked out. Twice, I tell him I’m fine. But by the time I climb into the Explorer and start the engine, my head is pounding.
    At 6:00 A.M. , I park in my driveway and let myself into the house. I barely notice the clutter that has accumulated over recent days or the stuffy air as I lock the door behind me. I’m hungry so I go directly to the kitchen. I find some mushy grapes and old cheese in the fridge. I’m in the process of cutting away the mold when I hear a scratch at the window. The orange tabby peers at me from his place on the sill.
    Smiling despite the headache, I go to the pantry for the bag of cat food and fill his bowl. Back at the sink, I open the window and push open the screen. “Sorry I’m late, buddy.”
    He ignores me and hunkers down to eat.
    I shed my clothes on the way to the bathroom. I know better than to look in the mirror; somehow seeing the damage done to my face is only going to make it hurt more. I look anyway. The cut isn’t too bad, but the lump beneath is a hard blue knot. The area under my left eye is filled with fluid, and I suspect in the coming hours I’ll have a full-blown black