Pray for Silence

More than likely the killer will scope out the place first. Tonight, it’s my goal to let him know the Zook family is home, totally unaware. They are vulnerable to attack. Come get us. . . .

 

Tomasetti has been on the periphery of my mind since he left. I’m not sure why I’ve put off calling him. Maybe because I know he’s got enough on his plate at the moment. Or maybe a part of me fears he’ll find fault with my plan, and I know that no matter what he says, I won’t scrub it. Still, I want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice. I want him to make me laugh. The vehemence of those feelings scares me a little. One of many hazards of a relationship.

 

Pulling out my phone, I dial his number from memory. He answers with his usual growl of his last name.

 

“It’s Kate.”

 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist calling me much longer.” His words are easy, but something in his voice puts me on alert. Some subtle note I can’t quite identify.

 

“I wanted to fill you in on something I’ve got going on here,” I begin.

 

“You catch a break?”

 

“Not exactly.” I lay out the plan.

 

A charged pause ensues. “You’ve been busy.”

 

“Things happened fast.”

 

“You’re at the Zook farmhouse alone?”

 

“Skid is in the barn. T.J. is parked out of sight by the bridge.”

 

“What about your other guys?”

 

“Glock and Pickles are with the Zook family a few miles from here.”

 

“Kate, that’s not enough men.”

 

That’s when I realize he’s been drinking. Tomasetti is good at pretending. Good at faking. Hell, he’s an Academy Award–worthy actor half of the time. But I know him well. I know every nuance of his voice. I know how to read between the lines. I know he can be a prick when he’s hurt or angry.

 

“Sheriff’s office has stepped up patrols,” I say. “It’s all I’ve got.”

 

“Why the hell didn’t you call me? I could have helped.”

 

“You’re not exactly on active status.”

 

“That never stopped you before.”

 

“John, look, you’ve got a lot going on right now. And I’ve thought this thing through. We’re organized. Prepared. I think we can handle it.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I’m sure we can.” But I fumble the words.

 

“Or maybe you didn’t call me because you think I’m going to freak out at some inopportune moment and fuck things up for you.”

 

“That’s not true,” I say evenly.

 

He cuts me off. “Better to wait until I’m a hundred miles away. A safe distance where I can’t do any harm. Did you discuss my precarious state of mind with your team, Kate? Did they agree with your assessment?”

 

“I’m not going to justify that with a response.”

 

“That’s rich.”

 

“I just wanted to let you know we might be getting a break soon. I wanted you to know what we were doing. How we were handling—”

 

“You wanted to let me know you can do this all by yourself.”

 

The words sting. They make me feel like a selfish bitch. Like maybe this is more about me than catching a killer, and I’ve put my officers and myself in harm’s way because I’m trying to prove something I don’t have to prove. I defend my position anyway. “That’s not true.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“You’ve been drinking.”

 

“I’m sure you’re shocked.”

 

“Look, I just called to let you know what’s going on.”

 

“Waiting until now to call me was a goddamn bitchy thing to do.”

 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

 

“I’m always like this. Wake the hell up.”

 

Fury burns through me with such force my hands shake. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

 

“Goddamn you, Kate. How the hell do you expect me to sleep tonight, knowing you’re alone in that house?” he shouts.

 

“I’m not alone.”

 

“You don’t have enough backup. T.J.’s a rookie and Skid isn’t exactly top notch. Do you think that’s good police work? That’s insane.”

 

“They’re good cops, and this is a good plan.”

 

“Sometimes good doesn’t matter! Don’t you get that?” He’s shouting at the top of his lungs now. “This guy comes calling in the middle of the night and gets by one of your guys, you’re going to find yourself in big trouble.”

 

“I’m armed. I’m wearing a vest—”

 

“Going to do you a hell of a lot of good if he takes a head shot!”

 

“John, you’re overreacting.”

 

“What the hell are you trying to prove, Kate?”

 

“I’m trying to catch the son of a bitch who killed seven people!”

 

“Or maybe you finally see a chance for retribution for what happened to you. Maybe you want to prove the Amish aren’t easy victims. Maybe you’re going to blow this guy’s shit away the moment he walks in the door.”

 

I almost can’t believe what’s coming from his mouth. “That’s psycho bullshit, Tomasetti.”

 

“I’m right and you know it! And now I’ve got to sit here and do nothing while you get yourself and maybe one of your guys fucking killed. Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself? Did it even cross your mind that I would worry? That maybe I wanted to be involved?”

 

“You’re not part of this case!” I shout.