Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

look at her.”
    “And that’s Mattie’s fault somehow?” The question comes out sounding defensive, so I reel in the part of me that wants to defend her.
    “That’s not for me to say now, is it?”
    “Are you talking about a particular man?”
    “Take your pick. They all look at her with their tongues hanging out like a bunch of panting dogs. Fall all over themselves helping her when she doesn’t need any help.” The Amish woman grimaces as if she’s bitten into the bitter pith of a lemon. “But then she’s got that way about her.”
    “What way is that?”
    She looks at me as if I’m dense. “One look from her and she’s got them eating out of her hand, pecking like a bunch of chickens, that’s what way.”
    “Are you saying this is something Mattie does on purpose, Martha?”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Do you think Mattie and Paul were having marital problems?”
    “Look, Katie, none of us is perfect. But when Sarah told me what she’d seen, I wasn’t surprised.”
    “Was Paul aware of any of this?”
    “The man was blind to it. Mattie could do no wrong in his eyes.” She shakes her head, and for the first time I see pity in her expression. “She uses those children, too. For attention, you know. Always putting other people out to save herself some trouble, if you ask me.”
    I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know what to think or feel about any of what’s been said. The weight of the words that have passed between us settle onto my shoulders like a boulder.
    “You were always partial to her, though, weren’t you?” Martha’s lips curl, but her smile is cruel. “I’ve said my piece, Katie Burkholder. You do with it what you will and God will take care of the rest.”
    I hand her my card. “If you think of anything else, will you get in touch with me?”
    She refuses the card and glances toward the house. “You’d best go. I’ve got children to feed.”
    She leaves me standing next to her empty laundry basket with the wet clothes flapping in the breeze and the turmoil of my thoughts.

 
    CHAPTER 20
    In the course of an investigation, a cop receives all kinds of information. A fair amount of that information is based on fact. Some is based on lies or half-truths that have been put forth to further someone’s agenda. A large percentage of information is pure bullshit. It’s my job to sort through it and separate fact from fiction, even if I don’t like the direction it’s taking me.
    There’s no doubt in my mind that young Sarah Schlabach was telling the truth about seeing a man and a woman that night on the road in front of her house. Martha might have an axe to grind when it comes to Mattie, but I don’t think she’d ask her eight-year-old daughter to fabricate a story to further some fifteen-year-old grudge. I didn’t get the sense that the girl was lying.
    Who was Mattie arguing with and why? More importantly, why didn’t she mention it to me? As with any witness, the possibility exists that Sarah misinterpreted what she saw. Could the man have been Paul Borntrager? Had Mattie and her husband had a spat and decided to take it outside so they wouldn’t wake the children? Or is there another possibility I’m not seeing?
    One vital piece of the puzzle that’s been missing from the start of this case is motive. I’ve been leaning toward the possibility of a stalking situation. Mattie is, after all, a stunningly beautiful woman. The kind of beauty that draws attention, perhaps even unwanted attention. I know from experience that a high percentage of stalking victims know their stalker. Does Mattie know him? Did she confront him? Did they have words that night? Is it possible that she’s oblivious to the dangers and protecting him for the simple reason that he’s Amish? That she doesn’t want any of this to come to light to protect her own reputation?
    When Mattie and I were teenagers, the boys were drawn to her with the mindless glee of children to chocolate. Several times, there had been more than one boy courting her at the same time. Petty jealousies and, once, a fight had erupted. Unlike Martha, I didn’t begrudge Mattie the attention. I was content to sit back and watch. Mattie had seemed oblivious to her charms. But even with my limited view of the world, there was a part of me that was cognizant of these things called jealousy and lust, and the lengths to which people would go to get what they want.
    I’m sitting at my desk in my office,