Down a Dark Road (Kate Burkholder #9)

“I wish we’d had as much faith in him as you did,” Rebecca says. “We should have.”

“You couldn’t have known you’d been lied to by the police.” I didn’t tell them—I didn’t tell anyone—about Naomi’s indiscretions. Bishop Fisher and I discussed it and decided it’s a secret best buried with her.

Rebecca’s smile is fraught with what looks like regret. “We told the children he was a good man.”

“They told me.” I glance toward the kids as they make their way toward their parents’ graves. “They’ve endured a lot and they’ve handled it with courage and grace. Joseph and Naomi would have been proud.”

Daniel nods.

“Thank you,” Rebecca whispers, her voice thin. “I’d best get over there before Sadie starts coaching the bishop on how best to deliver a sermon.”

I watch them walk away, trying not to feel blue, but I know there’s a good chance I may never see the kids again. They’re part of Joseph King. His legacy. And it’s a part of my past that’s gone forever.

The hiss of tires on asphalt draws my attention. I glance over to see Tomasetti’s Tahoe pull up and park behind my Explorer. I wasn’t sure he’d have time to meet me here; he’s been working around the clock on the investigation into the murders of Sidney Tucker and Nick Rowlett.

Something goes soft in my chest when I see him get out. He rounds the front of the vehicle and opens the passenger door. Curiosity sparks when I see Vicki Cascioli slide gingerly from the passenger seat. The right side of her face is heavily bandaged. Even from twenty yards away I can see that her eye is blackened. She moves with the slow deliberation of a woman three times her age.

I hold my ground and wait for them to reach me.

Tomasetti speaks first, his eyes taking in the length of me. “Chief Burkholder.”

The words are ridiculously formal, since we’ve been living together for over a year now. Despite the melancholy curling in my gut, I smile. “Agent Tomasetti.”

I turn my attention to the woman beside him, taking in the pale complexion, the watchful, uncomfortable eyes. There are a few small cuts on the left side of her face. Bruising at her throat. Tension seems to emanate from her entire body.

The three of us exchange handshakes.

“Ms. Cascioli,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

“One surgery down, a few more to go.” Her voice is low, her mouth barely opening, and I realize because of her injuries it’s difficult for her to speak.

“Kate, I hope it’s not inappropriate for us to be here,” Tomasetti begins.

I glance back to where several dozen Amish have gathered at the graves of Joseph and Naomi King. I’d wanted to stand with them, to pay homage in my own way, to say good-bye to Joseph King. But I know Cascioli just finished her initial deposition with BCI, and I’m hungry for news about the investigation.

“It’s okay.” I motion toward our vehicles. “Let’s talk over there so we don’t bother anyone.”

We go through the gate to stand next to the Tahoe. “How did the deposition go?” I ask Cascioli.

“I told my story,” she says. “What I knew. When I knew it. How I believe all of it went down.”

I glance from her to Tomasetti and back to her. “What happened to Sidney Tucker?”

She squares her shoulders. A sigh hisses between her lips. She’s shoring up her resolve, I realize, her emotions.

“He was a good man,” she tells me. “A good cop. Not perfect, but…” She shrugs. “When Peggy got sick he just stopped trying. He let himself get sucked into some things he shouldn’t have.”

“Things like what?” I ask.

“I rode with Tuck for four months, when I was a rookie. He showed me the ropes, taught me a lot. We butted heads the first week or so. In fact, I think he pretty much hated me.” She starts to smile, but ends up wincing in pain. “The more time we spent together, the closer we became. I think he sort of saw me as his surrogate daughter or something. I loved Tuck. He was funny and competent and over the months he became like a father to me. I hated to see him retire, but … he wanted out.

“Anyway, I’d heard stories about Rowlett and Travers. You never know what to believe, so I asked Tuck about it. He wasn’t a big talker, kept a lot to himself, but I think he needed to tell someone what he knew. I think he felt guilty because he’d looked the other way while Travers and Rowlett crossed the line. Tuck had violated his own code of honor and it wasn’t sitting too well.”

A smile lights her eyes. “He was one of those guys who doesn’t talk about personal things or, God forbid, emotions. But he opened up to me. He was incredibly troubled by what was going on.

“At first it was just bits and pieces. The snippets I heard felt more like gossip than reality. But I knew there was something going on. I knew it wasn’t good.” Absently, she touches the bandage on her face. “After Peggy went into hospice, I stopped by Tuck’s place one evening to return his phone. He’d left it in the cruiser. I found him sitting in the dark, drinking, distraught, and he told me everything. And I do mean everything. Every ugly, damning detail.

“Rowlett and Travers were…” She struggles to find the right word then spits out, “Corrupt. They were abusing their power as police officers. They were shaking down local drug dealers, stealing cash or drugs or both, letting the dealers who’d roll over on their competitors operate unencumbered. When they stopped female drivers for DUI or some other serious offense, they’d offer to look the other way if the women had sex with them.”

I find myself thinking about Kelly Dennison, one of the few who’d stood up to them, and how much it had cost her. She’d been forced to recant her story. She’d been silenced and disgraced and shamed. She did jail time for a crime she didn’t commit, all to save not only herself, but her child.

“What could I do? I was just a dumb rookie.” Cascioli shakes her head. “I wanted to keep my job. So I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t easy. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I confronted them.” Her laugh is a bitter sound. “They destroyed me. My reputation. My career. They got me fired and pretty much ruined any hope of me ever landing another job in law enforcement.”

“Tuck knew and stayed quiet?” I ask.

Her eyes meet mine and she gives a reluctant nod. “They tossed him some money a few times. A hundred here, a hundred there. You have to understand, when Tuck found out Peggy only had a few weeks to live, he pretty much stopped caring about everything. He had a lot of her medical expenses to pay. We’re talking tens of thousands of dollars—and he didn’t have it.” She shrugs. “So he accepted the cash Travers or Rowlett gave him and he kept his mouth shut.”

The twist of her mouth is bitter. “Until you showed up asking questions. I suspect he was ready to come clean. He’d had enough and wanted to stop Rowlett and Travers.”