Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

that while this visit is over, the case remains open.
    *   *   *
    My encounter with Redmon leaves me restless and edgy. Despite my best efforts, I can’t get my focus back on the Borntrager case. I can’t stop thinking about the secrets and the questions and an investigation that could mean the end of my career.
    I arrive at Mattie’s farm to find two buggies parked near the barn, the horses standing with their back legs cocked, their heads down. Two Amish men, one of whom is smoking a pipe, stand at the open barn door, talking. They stare at me as I get out of the Explorer. I raise my hand in greeting, but neither man reciprocates. I take the sidewalk to the back porch. I don’t bother knocking this time and go directly to the kitchen.
    I find Mary Miller at the sink. She’s a tall, angular woman with skinny legs and feet that look too big for her body. I’ve known her since my days at school, where she taught for a while. She worked hard to make sure I knew my multiplication tables and smacked my hand with the ruler on more than one occasion to ensure she had my undivided attention. She’s married to the Amish man I saw near the barn when I arrived. They’re a nice couple, with eight children, and live on small farm south of Painters Mill.
    “Is Mattie here?” I ask. “I need to speak with her.”
    “She’s resting.” She turns her back to me and goes back to her dishwashing. “I see your manners haven’t improved with age.”
    “Where is she?” I walk past her, half expecting her to snap the dish towel at my back.
    The smells of mock turtle soup and lye soap follow me into the living room. I make my way to the stairs and take them two at a time to the top. Four doors stand open. The first is a bathroom with robin’s-egg-blue walls and a claw-foot tub. I’m midway to the second door when Mattie appears in the doorway ahead.
    “Katie?”
    I can tell by the soft paleness of her complexion that I roused her from sleep. A crease mark from her pillow mars her right cheek. She’s wearing a black dress and is in the process of tying her head covering as she steps into the hall. “I didn’t know you were here.”
    “We need to talk,” I tell her.
    Her expression goes wary. “Has something happened? If I’d known you were coming, I would have made coffee.”
    “I don’t want coffee. What I want is for you to level with me.”
    “About what?” Her eyes go into sharp focus on mine. “Have you found out something about the accident?”
    “It wasn’t an accident, Mattie. Someone mowed them down. There’s a difference.”
    “I know that, but…” Her voice trails and she looks down at the floor. “I don’t know what else to call it.”
    “Try triple murder.”
    She steps back, sets her hand on the jamb as if she needs the support to remain upright. “Why are you angry with me?”
    I cross to her so that I’m less than a foot away. Her skin is as pale and flawless as a baby’s. Her eyes are deep and clear. She’s magnetic and, even as a female, I can understand why men are drawn to her. She smells of baby powder and laundry detergent and summer sun.
    “Let me spell it out for you.” My voice feels like a steel zipper being ripped from my throat. “I asked you if you’d had any recent disagreements or arguments with anyone. It’s a straightforward question, Mattie. Then I hear about you and an unidentified man arguing on the road in front of your house in the middle of the night. What am I supposed to make of that?”
    She chokes out a sound that’s part laugh, part incredulity. “I don’t know who you’ve been speaking with or what they said to you, but no such thing ever happened.”
    In the years we’ve been friends, Mattie has shocked me, infuriated me, and made me laugh. The one thing she’s never done is lie. But I see the quicksilver flash of conscience in her eyes, and the truth of it hurts a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. “You’re keeping something from me. I suggest you start talking and, if it’s not too much trouble, focus on the truth.”
    She takes a step back, presses her hand to her breast. I steel myself against the hurt in her eyes, remind myself that a man and two children are dead and I have a job to do.
    “You’re being purposefully cruel,” she says quietly.
    “I’m asking a question I want answered. Who was the man?”
    “Katie, I am a Plain woman. I don’t speak with strange men in the—”
    “There’s nothing Plain