Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11) - Linda Castillo Page 0,85

humor. “I figured he had another woman in another town. Dumped me and all his bills in one fell swoop.”

“Any idea where he went or how to get in touch with him?” I ask.

“His phone is disconnected.” Tears fill her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m pathetic. I tried to call him.” She slides from the booth and gets to her feet, swipes at her face with the backs of her hands. “Jesus. Look at me. I gotta get back to work. You guys know what you want to eat?”

* * *

We’re nearly to the motel when the call comes in from Dispatch. I know even before answering that the news isn’t good. I have a sixth sense when it comes to the many faces of disaster and I find myself bracing.

“Hey, Chief,” comes Mona’s voice. “Any luck down there?”

I hear gloom tucked behind her sanguinity, just out of sight, concealed from most, but not me. I feel Tomasetti’s eyes on me so I address her question, keep my eyes on the road, as I tell her about Elmer Moyer.

“We’re not sure if he’s part of this, a witness, or a possible victim, but we’re going to take a hard look at him,” I tell her.

A too long pause then, “Chief, I thought you should know … Bishop Troyer lapsed into a coma a little while ago. The doc is giving him a fifty-fifty chance of making it through the night.”

I close my eyes briefly, grip the wheel a little harder. Remind myself I’m no longer Amish. That Bishop Troyer is as old as the hills and he’s lived a long, good life. None of it helps.

“How’s Freda holding up?” I ask.

“T.J. swung by their place earlier. He said the Amish are holding vigil at the hospital. Her family is there, too.”

She clears her throat. More comfortable cursing some dipshit who’s run a traffic light than being the bearer of bad news she knows will affect me on a personal level.

I keep my mind on the business at hand. “Skid still out at the Helmuth place?”

“Glock relieved him so he could grab some sleep and dinner, but he’ll be back out there at midnight when he comes on.”

“Tell him thanks, will you?”

“Sure.”

“You, too, Mona.”

I lean forward, punch off the button, slant a look at Tomasetti, and I’m profoundly relieved the cab is dark and he can’t see my face.

“I don’t think the bishop is going to make it,” I whisper, and I rap my palm against the steering wheel.

“I’m pretty sure you told me once he’s too damn mean to die.”

I choke out a laugh. “Whatever punishments he doled out, I probably earned it.”

“You’ve had a complicated relationship.”

“And then some, for a lot of years.”

It will sadden me in a profound way if Bishop Troyer dies, especially if his death is caused by an act of violence. While the Amish are certain he will be going to a better place to rejoin loved ones and be with God, I’m not quite so certain. At times like this, the loss of that kind of faith is hollow and cold.

“He’s been tough on you,” Tomasetti points out.

“I was what the Amish call ‘disobedient’ and never the apple of his eye. When I was a teenager I thought I hated him.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Teenagers aren’t exactly the smartest of God’s creatures.”

“I broke a lot of rules,” I tell him. “I committed some serious transgressions—in the eyes of the Amish, anyway—and I got into a lot of trouble. I didn’t realize it at the time, and I sure as hell didn’t appreciate it, but Bishop Troyer never gave up on me. He never wrote me off as a lost cause. Not even after I left.”

“So don’t give up on him.” He reaches across the console and I put my hand in his. “He’s a strong man. If he still has something important to do before he checks out—like save your soul from eternal damnation—that might just be enough to get him through this.”

I can’t help it; I laugh. “Thank you for that perspective.”

“Anytime, Chief.”

CHAPTER 24

One hundred and four hours missing

I should have known this would be the night my old friend insomnia drops in for an unexpected visit. For two hours I lie beside Tomasetti, staring into the darkness and listening to the sounds of the Sleepy Time Motel, trying to quiet a mind that has no intention of cooperating. I can’t stop thinking about an innocent little Amish girl whose life