Page 65 of An Evil Heart
“Opens some doors as far as a motive for murder, too.”
Tomasetti cuts a slice of bread from the loaf and hands it to me. “You checked males who are close to Weaver,” he says. “Boyfriend. Father. Uncle. Grandfather.”
“The only person who knows what happened to her is her mother.”
“Any chance she—”
“No.”
“That level of violence with a fifteen-year-old girl.” He says the words slowly, thinking aloud. “What if it wasn’t an isolated incident, but a pattern?”
I sip wine, surprised to find that my earlier exhaustion is gone, my mind beginning to spool. “If that kind of behavior was a pattern in a town the size of Painters Mill, it seems like I would have caught wind of it.”
“Twenty-one is young. He was just getting started.”
“Maybe.” My mind has already surged ahead to another possibility. “Also worth noting that he was Amish. That’s relevant because even if someone in the community knew what Karn had done, there’s a good chance they wouldn’t come forward.”
“Why not?”
“When you’re Amish,” I say, “and you screw up or commit some perceived sin, it isn’t arrest you have to worry about, it’s God and your community. If you stand before the congregation and confess your sin, you are forgiven.”
“So there’s no need for the cops,” he says sardonically.
“It doesn’t always happen that way, of course, but it’s feasible.”
“Taking that mindset into account, there’s a better chance that a woman or girl who’s been victimized wouldn’t come forward.” He swirls the wine in his glass. “If Karn was a predator and the behavior was a pattern, maybe one of his victims decided to mete out a little revenge.”
“Crossbow doesn’t seem like a weapon of choice for a female.”
“Maybe it was a boyfriend. A brother. Or father.”
“It’s a viable theory, but no one else has come forward.” I sigh. “Damn it.”
He considers for a moment, then looks at me, his gaze searching mine. “Maybe Karn’s lousy behavior with women is the missing link.”
It takes me a moment to grasp his point. When I do, I feel a piece of the puzzle click into place. “Rossberger was a prostitute.”
“Karn hooked up with her somehow. Brought her to Painters Mill. Paid her for sex.”
I ponder the dynamics of that, the players involved, and I realize it could fit. “How is it that they both ended up dead? Separate locations. Different ways.”
“Taking into account what happened between Karn and the Weaver girl. Maybe he got rough with her. Lost his temper. Took things too far.”
I stare at him, a shock wave moving through me. “Are you saying Karn murdered Rossberger?”
“I know it’s a leap, but I’m just putting a theory out there for thought.”
The premise is so far removed from the way I’d been thinking about the case, I can barely get my head around it. My mind runs with it anyway. “Okay, let’s say they were together. He got rough with her.” I look down at the table, then at Tomasetti. “Rossberger’s mother told me her daughter didn’t put up with any crap.”
“Maybe she didn’t like it, didn’t like him, and she told him to piss off.”
“He lost his temper and killed her.” I shake my head. “It feels like too much of a jump. And how is it that Karn ended up dead?”
He lifts a shoulder, lets it drop. “Maybe she had a boyfriend. Or pimp. He found out what happened. And he did away with Karn.”
I nod, but my thoughts are in turmoil because while we might be on to something, the theory is far from proven. “Might be a good time for me to speak with the people closest to him again.”
“Like who?”
