Page 109 of An Evil Heart
I cut in before he can finish. “I’m okay.”
His eyes flick to the door of the interrogation room behind me. “Mona?”
“She’s going to be fine.”
“Another close one.” He’s not an emotional man, but I hear a shudder when he blows out a breath. “What am I going to do with you?”
I do smile then. “Tomasetti, if I didn’t know better, I might just think you were smitten with the chief of police.”
“No doubt about it.” He looks down the hall to where two deputies are carrying on a conversation. “Pretty inconvenient that there are so many people around,” he says in a low voice.
“That we’re standing in a public hall at the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department definitely doesn’t help.”
“What do you say we remedy that?” He reaches into his pocket for his keys. “Need a ride home?”
“Agent Tomasetti, that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
Drizzle floats from a misty black sky as we cross the parking lot to his Tahoe. He opens my door, but stops me before I can get in. Gently, he backs me against the side of the vehicle, presses his body against mine, then sets his hands on either side of my face.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he says.
“I’m sorry. I tried to call—”
He quiets me with a kiss that quickly deepens to… something else. As if of their own accord, my arms go around his neck and I pour everything I have into the kiss, into the moment, into him, and for a second I’m rendered incapable of containing the love I feel for him.
He breaks the kiss, pulls back, and looks down at me as if I’ve done something to awe him. “If it’s not too much to ask, could you forgo the getting shot?”
“I’ll do my best. Up my game if I can.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep you around for a while.”
Loving the warm and solid feel of him against me, I touch the side of his face, brush my fingertips over his mouth. “How long exactly?”
“A couple of lifetimes.” He grins. “For starters.”
“I think that’s the plan.”
Never taking his eyes from mine, he steps aside and opens the door of the Tahoe. “Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER 29
Being placed on administrative leave after an officer-involved shooting is a uniquely terrible position for a police officer. For a span of time—usually days, but sometimes weeks—you’re ousted from a job that is a huge part of your life. You no longer have interaction with coworkers who are more like family. You have too much time to think about what happened and relive every horrifying moment. Worst of all, you spend that time second-guessing your every decision, your every move.
I understand the protocol. I’m a firm believer that all critical incidents should be thoroughly investigated by an outside, independent agency. None of that makes it any easier to get through.
It’s dawn when I let myself into the chicken house at the farm, wire basket in hand to gather eggs. Four of our hens are still in their nesting boxes. The rest are pecking around on the ground. From where I’m standing, I see at least five eggs that were laid overnight.
“You girls have been busy,” I say.
The hens cluck in annoyance as I shoo them through the door and into the yard so they can free-range the rest of the day. And, of course, so I can gather eggs without getting my hand pecked.
I’m thinking about the wedding tomorrow morning, trying not to worry about all the things I didn’t get done. On another level, I’m also thinking about Mona, considering calling her when my cell phone jangles from the back pocket of my jeans. Setting down the basket, I tug it out, and look at the display. I don’t recognize the number, but I hit the Talk button and answer with, “Burkholder.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
It takes me a moment to identify the voice as belonging to Mandi Yoder, the young woman who, according to bartender Jimmie Baines, was assaulted by Aden Karn in the parking lot of the Brass Rail Saloon.
“What can I do for you?” I ask.
