CHAPTER 43
A spring storm hovers on the western horizon when I pull into the gravel lane of the farm I share with Tomasetti. It’s dusk and I can just make out the occasional flicker of lightning within the roiling clouds. I roll down the window, breathe in the fragrant air, humid and rich with the smell of growing things and life. For the first time in days, I notice the new foliage on the trees that grow alongside the driveway. The grass in the pasture is an ocean of green, made even greener by the slant of sun beaming through the thunderheads.
I park behind Tomasetti’s Tahoe, grab my laptop case, and start toward the house. I’m midway to the back door when I hear the clang! of a hammer against something solid. I round the corner and a few yards away, down the hill about halfway to the pond, Tomasetti stands next to a stone firepit that wasn’t there when I left this morning. Yellow and orange flames dance a couple of feet into the air, illuminating the circle of meticulously placed stone and the sight of a man I suddenly can’t wait to touch.
“You’ve been busy,” I call out as I make my way down the incline.
He turns. My heart stutters in my chest when his eyes sweep over me. His expression warms as he takes my measure. “If you want someone to stay out of trouble,” he says, “give them a job.”
I break into a run, drop my laptop case on the bench seat, and go to him. Holding his gaze, I put my arms around his neck, and fall against him, set my face against his shoulder.
“If I’d known building a firepit would get me that kind of reaction,” he says, “I’d have done it a long time ago.”
Laughing, I pull back, give him a playful punch on the arm.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I think the chief of police is incredibly glad she has a certain BCI guy to come home to.”
“Well, in that case…” Tilting his head, he looks at me, a little puzzled but pleased nonetheless, and presses a kiss to my mouth.
I try not to be moved, but I am, on too many levels to sort through at the moment. “You smell like woodsmoke,” I tell him.
Without speaking, he eases me to arm’s length and looks at me closely. “Everything all right, Chief?”
I choke out a laugh, but I can’t hide the note of melancholy in its depths. “Fannie Bontrager took off without telling her grandparents.”
“Ah.” He runs both hands down my arms. “You find her?”
“At the Bontrager place. On her horse.”
He motions toward the bench seat constructed of old wood from the barn. I sit, look out across the land where the red-winged blackbirds swoop over the pond to the weeping willow at the water’s edge. The last of the spring peepers sing their final song. Before long, summer will arrive. Another chapter, different, but just as beloved.
Tomasetti sits next to me. “I take it that’s not a good thing?”
“Fannie’s not going to stay Amish,” I tell him.
“In case you need a reminder, Kate, you left the fold and everything turned out all right.” He takes my hand, squeezes it gently.
I know what I want to say. What I need to say. What I feel in my heart. But to put it into words is no easy feat. “Rachael Schwartz was no-holds-barred, fearless to a fault, and traveling at a hundred miles an hour.” Loretta Bontrager’s description of her floats through my mind and I mumble it, realizing that of all the terms I could use to describe Rachael, that one is the one that best captures the essence of her. “Frei geisht.” Free spirit.
“Fannie is exactly like her,” I tell him. “She’s being raised by the same parents who raised Rachael. The Schwartzes didn’t give Rachael the tools she needed to…” I almost say the one word I don’t want to say: “survive.”
He looks into the fire, thoughtful. “That doesn’t mean Fannie is bound for the same fate as her mother.”
“The kid’s got a nose for trouble, just like her mom.”
Thunder rumbles in the distance. The sun has sunk behind the clouds. The birds have gone silent. The tempo of the bullfrogs from the pond strikes a crescendo.
“Fannie Bontrager has a couple of things going for her that Rachael Schwartz didn’t,” he tells me. “The people raising her have learned a thing or two about life since they raised their daughter.” He looks at me. “And Fannie has a good-hearted chief of police to keep an eye on her over the next few years.”
The wind has picked up, sending the flames into a frenzy. The first fat drops of rain splat against the stone, sizzle when they hit the glowing coals.
“You know, Tomasetti, if you ever decide to leave BCI, you could probably make it as a shrink.”
“Or a bartender.”
“Same thing, right?”
We grin at each other and, hand in hand, hightail it through the rain toward the house.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As is the case with every book, I’ve many talented and dedicated people to thank at Minotaur Books—for their expertise and hard work, their willingness to go above and beyond, their belief in me and the story, and, most of all, for the friendship. My editor, Charles Spicer. My agent, Nancy Yost. Jennifer Enderlin. Andrew Martin. Sally Richardson. Sarah Melnyk. Sarah Grill. Kerry Nordling. Paul Hochman. Allison Ziegler. Kelley Ragland. David Baldeosingh Rotstein. Marta Fleming. Martin Quinn. Joseph Brosnan. Lisa Davis. A heartfelt thank you to all!
ALSO BY LINDA CASTILLO
Sworn to Silence
Pray for Silence
Breaking Silence
Gone Missing
Her Last Breath
The Dead Will Tell
After the Storm
Among the Wicked
Down a Dark Road
A Gathering of Secrets
Shamed
Outsider
A Simple Murder (A Kate Burkholder Story Collection)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Castillo is the New York Times bestselling author of the Kate Burkholder series set in the world of the Amish. The first book, Sworn to Silence, was adapted into a Lifetime original movie titled An Amish Murder, starring Neve Campbell as Kate Burkholder. Castillo is the recipient of numerous industry awards including a nomination by the International Thriller Writers for Best Hardcover, the Mystery Writers of America’s Sue Grafton Memorial Award, and an appearance on the Boston Globe’s shortlist for best crime novel. In addition to writing, Castillo’s other passion is horses. She lives in Texas with her husband and is currently at work on her next book. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Acknowledgments
Also by Linda Castillo
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
FALLEN. Copyright © 2021 by Linda Castillo. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover image: woman © Dan Thornberg/Shutterstock.com; kapp © Dan Thornberg/ Shutterstock.com; texture © Taigi/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-14292-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-82803-3 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-250-14294-8 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250142948
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First Edition: 2021