Page 96 of Sworn to Silence
Sighing, Tomasetti settles into a chair. “Ugly scene.”
I’m so engulfed in my own misery I can’t respond.
“The perp got away,” he says. “He made it to the road, and we lost him.”
Another layer of disappointment settles on top of a hundred others. “Did you get anything useful?”
“Glock and a crime scene tech from BCI are working on footwear impressions and some imprints of the snowmobile’s skis. We think it might have been a Yamaha. Won’t know for sure until they match treads.”
I raise my head and meet his gaze. “I’ll get started on a list of people in the area who own Yamaha snowmobiles.” But I’m still thinking about the Johnstons. “Doc Coblentz show up?”
“They were moving the body when I left.”
“Did someone get photographs?”
“We got it covered.”
I sink back into my dark thoughts.
After a moment, he says, “Don’t let what he said get to you.”
My phone rings, but I ignore it. “Why not? He’s right.”
His eyes narrow. “About what?”
“I should have called for help.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The ringing stops. Seconds tick by. “Because I screwed up.”
“Why didn’t you call for assistance, Kate?”
I stare blindly at my desk blotter, but all I see is Brenda Johnston’s torn body lying in the snow. Her organs strewn about like trash.
He tries again. “Talk to me.”
I shift my gaze to Tomasetti. “I can’t.”
“Cops make mistakes, Kate. We’re human. It happens.”
“It wasn’t a mistake.”
My response puzzles him. For the span of several minutes, neither of us speaks. My phone rings again, but I don’t answer. I’m a vacuum inside, as dark and cold as space. I have nothing left.
“I’m the last person who has the right to lecture anyone on right or wrong,” he says.
“Is that some kind of confession?”
“Look, if you know something about this case that you haven’t told me, this would be a good time for you to open up.”
The temptation to let everything pour out is strong, but I can’t do it. I don’t trust him. I don’t even trust myself.
After a moment, he sighs and rises. “Why don’t you let me drive you home so you can get some sleep?”
I try to remember the last time I slept, realize I can’t. I don’t even know what day it is. The clock on the wall says it’s nearly sixP.M.and I wonder where the day went. The need to work eats at me even as exhaustion fogs my brain. I’m fast approaching a state in which I’ll become completely in effective. But how can I rest knowing there’s a killer out there, stalking my town?
I rise. “I have my own vehicle.”
