Page 123 of Sworn to Silence
“Did you find any porn or S&M videos? Sex toys? Instruments of torture? Anything like that?”
“No, but he slaughters pigs on site. He’s got knives. Knows how to use them.”
“A lot of the Amish do their own slaughtering for meat. My dad butchered cattle.”
“So how do you explain the evidence?”
“I can’t. I know it’s damning. It just... doesn’t feel right. For example, the sixteen-year gap and then three murders within a month. What was the trigger?” I pause. “Have you talked to Jonas?”
He nods. “Detrick and I questioned him for about an hour this morning. At first he wouldn’t speak English, just Pennsylvania Dutch. When he finally did start talking, he denied everything. Gets all offended when we ask him about the women. Detrick came down on him pretty hard, but he didn’t crack.”
“What do you think?”
“He’s so damn stoic and reticent. Hard to figure him out.”
“He have a lawyer?”
“Hasn’t asked for one.”
I nod, troubled by the thought of Jonas alone and at the mercy of Nathan Detrick.
Glock rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “Jesus, Chief, we sure miss having you around. I’d feel a hell of a lot better with you in running the show.”
Tears threaten so I take a swig of coffee.
“I heard Detrick had a closed-door meeting with Janine Fourman and Auggie Brock the night before you got the axe,” Glock says.
“How do you know?”
“Secretary over at the city building called after she heard what happened to you. I’m just reading between the lines, but I’ll bet Detrick wasn’t there to talk about the fuckin’ weather.”
Anger fires inside me when I think of all the things that might have been said and everything I stand to lose because of it. “That son of a bitch.”
“You heard from Tomasetti?”
The heat of a blush climbs up my cheeks. It’s a stupid reaction. Glock doesn’t know Tomasetti and I spent the night together. Still, I can’t meet his gaze. “I think he left early this morning.”
“Really?” He laughs outright, obviously surprised by my reaction. “You and Tomasetti, huh? I’ll be damned.”
“Probably best if we don’t go there.”
He clears his throat and focuses his attention on the mess spread out on the kitchen table.
“I’m following up on a couple of things,” I say.
“I didn’t think you were balancing your checkbook.”
“Tomasetti left me with some crime-matching stats. I’m working on the change of locales angle.”
“Anything?”
“Not yet. But there’s a lot of ground to cover.” I pause. “Any word from the Johnstons?”
“Funeral is tomorrow.”
I nod. “How’s LaShonda?”
“Big as a frickin’ house.” A grin splits his face at the mention of his very pregnant wife. “Gonna be any day now.”
