Breaking Silence

CHAPTER 20

I’ve never been good at sitting on the sidelines. That’s especially true when it comes to my job. This morning, the fact that I’ve been effectively locked out of the investigation is excruciating. Two hours have passed since Tomasetti, Ike, Samuel, and I sat in the barn and the boys shocked us with the revelation that Salome was complicit in the attempt on their lives.

I’m still reeling inside. Hurting, if I want to be honest. But most of all, I’m angry. Angry because I was lied to and manipulated by someone I trusted, someone I cared about. But I’m angriest with myself. Because I allowed this to happen on my watch. Because I so willingly believed the lies I was spoon-fed. I stood by while two little boys were brutalized by their older siblings. Worse, I felt sympathy for their would-be murderer.

I’m at the police station, feeling out of place because I’m not in uniform, pacing the hall outside the interview room, pissed because the goddamn door is closed. Tomasetti, Adam Slabaugh, Sheriff Rasmussen, and a young attorney who doesn’t look old enough to have graduated from law school are inside, questioning Salome. The need to know what’s happening is like a bamboo sliver being slowly wedged beneath my fingernail.

I’ve just reached the end of the hall, and I’m staring, unseeing, into the reception area when the door clicks open. I spin and see Rasmussen emerge, looking like he’s just been roused from a nap. His hair is mussed, as if he’s been running his fingers through it. “I figured you’d have a path worn in that floor by now,” he says.

Trying to turn down my intensity, I cross to him. “No budget for new flooring.”

He’s looking at me a little too closely, the way people do when they know something isn’t quite right about you. “How are you holding up?”

I’m so focused on learning the outcome of the interview with Salome, it takes me a moment to realize he’s asking about the shooting. “I’m fine.” I say the words with a little too much attitude. But no cop is going to admit she’s spent the last twenty-four hours bouncing off the walls. That would be the ultimate bad form after a shooting. You can drink and you can fight, but you can’t admit it’s messing with your head.

“Good to hear.”

I don’t waste any time getting to the point. “What did Salome have to say?”

“Jesus, Kate. That kid’s been through hell, that’s for sure.”

That isn’t what I expected to hear. “Did she incriminate herself?”

“Every time she started to talk, that fuckin’ attorney shut her down.” He sighs tiredly, gives me a grim look. “She claims her dad was molesting her. Going into her bedroom at night and raping her since she was twelve. She confided in Mose about it. She thinks Mose confronted their father and they might have gotten into an argument the morning Slabaugh ended up in that pit.”

“That doesn’t explain why her brothers told Tomasetti and me that she’s the one who pushed them into the pit. It doesn’t explain how the uncle got into the pit. Or why she started having sex with Mose.”

He looks at me as if I should have a little more compassion for a girl who’s been through so much, and I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. “She says she doesn’t know how any of them got in the pit. She hinted around that maybe the uncle went in to rescue Solly and that Mose couldn’t get him out. That’s how it usually happens. One person goes in, the would-be rescuers succumb to the lack of oxygen and follow suit. An unconscious man would be very difficult for a seventeen-year-old boy to extract from that pit.” He shrugs. “If Mose had gone in after them, he probably would have ended up dead, too.”

“Do you believe that?”

“It’s hard to know what happened, since everyone is dead.”

“Not everyone.” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “How did the two little boys end up in the pit?”

“Salome says Mose did it. She was afraid he might, so she threw in the ball for them to use as a floatation device just in case. But she didn’t know Mose had actually done the deed until after the fact.”

“That’s not what those boys told me and Tomasetti.”

“Look, Kate, they’re just kids. They’ve been through a lot. They’ve been traumatized, lost their parents, their brother. They’re confused. Hell, maybe they’re looking for someone to blame.” Rasmussen motions toward the closed door. “I’m inclined to cut that poor girl in there some slack. I think the judge will, too. I think there were some awful things going on in that house that no one knew about.”

I shouldn’t be surprised by this, but I am. I stare at Rasmussen, realizing with a keen sense of dismay that he’s been sucked in by Salome’s innocence and beauty, just like everyone else. Just like me. And all I can think is, She’s good.

“She blamed everything on Mose?” I say, hearing the incredulity in my voice.

“Not at first. In fact, she defended him.”

“Deception is a lot more effective when you initially defend the person you intend to hang.”

“I’m not reading it that way, Kate. She says she loved him and that he was only trying to protect her from being raped.”

I stare at him, unsettled by the news, because neither Mose nor Solomon is here to defend himself. “You realize Mose is the perfect scapegoat, don’t you?”

“I don’t think that girl in there killed her parents. Do you?”

“I think she’s capable. I think she manipulated Mose into doing it for her.”

“We don’t have any proof.”

“So why did those boys tell us Salome is the one who put them in the pit?”

The sheriff is ready with an answer. “They’re confused. Mose probably coached those boys. He beat them to keep them in line. Hit them in places where the bruises wouldn’t show. He threatened them constantly. Those boys were afraid of him.”

“That’s bullshit. Mose is dead. They know he can’t hurt them now. I think they’re afraid of her.”

“Look, Kate, I’m not saying the girl isn’t in this pretty deep. Sure, she made some bad decisions. She probably knows more than she’s letting on. But I don’t think she’s a cold-blooded killer.”

“She’s a classic sociopath. Those tears she’s crying all over you? They’re called ‘crocodile tears,’ in case you missed that day in the Academy.”

Rasmussen flushes red. “With all due respect, Chief, maybe you ought to take a big step back from this. I think you’re a little bit too emotionally involved.”

My jaw clamps and I hear my teeth grind. “She’s playing you. She’s playing all of us.”

“I don’t understand why you’re chomping at the bit to fry a fifteen-year-old Amish kid.”

In that instant, the terrible moments leading up to my shooting Mose replay in my mind’s eye: the truck roaring toward me, raising my weapon and firing, the windshield splintering. Then I turned and looked at Salome. Initially, I misinterpreted her expression as horror. It wasn’t until this morning that I recognized it for what it was: a chilling smile of secret satisfaction.

She was getting off on playing the role of victim. Getting off on seeing Mose gunned down after he’d served his purpose and she no longer needed him to further her goal. The scenario is so bitter and cold, I can’t wrap my brain around it. But I trust my instincts; I know I’m right. The question is, How do I prove it?

“I just want the truth,” I say.

“Sounds to me like you want to hang all this on an innocent girl.”

“She’s not innocent. I think she killed her parents. I think she’s capable of killing anyone who gets in her way.”

“She’s as much a victim as those two little boys.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Or maybe you think they’re in on this big conspiracy, too.”

“I think she’s got just about everyone snookered, including you.”

His flush is darker this time, and I realize behind all that good-old-boy charm, the sheriff has a temper. His gaze searches mine, as if he’s looking for some ulterior motive for the view I’ve taken on this. “We have no evidence to support anything you’ve said.”

“The word of those two boys.”

“Thoughts you may have inadvertently planted to suit your own agenda.”

I know arguing with him about this isn’t going to help my cause, so I reel in my temper and mentally shift gears. “Did you get anything back on the fingerprints found on the shovel?”

“The only prints found were Mose’s.”

I nod, but I know in my heart that was by design.

As if my thoughts are reflected in my expression, Rasmussen sighs. “In any case, we’re finished with her for now. We’re not going to charge her—”

“Not going to charge her?” Alarm shoots through me.

“She’s being remanded to the custody of her uncle. Social worker from Children Services interviewed him last evening. They did some kind of home study. He’s probably going to get approved for permanent custody.”

“Her brothers are terrified of her. I told them they’d be safe. Now she’s being sent home to her uncle?”

“The judge doesn’t want to separate the siblings. He spoke with those boys, Kate. They’re no more afraid of their sister than I am.”

“I overheard the boys talking. I’m telling you: They’re afraid of her.”

“Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, but I’d say this one is out of your hands.”

Frustration is like a sizzling charge of dynamite inside me. “Damn it, she’s a danger to those kids.”

“I’ve got to go.” Looking annoyed, not wanting to deal with this monkey wrench on a golf day, Rasmussen glances at his watch. “She asked to see you. Her attorney said it would be okay so long as you’re in there as a civilian.”

Surprise ripples through me. I figured I’d be the last person she wanted to see. “Sure.”

He sighs. “To be perfectly honest, Kate, maybe you shouldn’t go in there.”

“I’m glad that’s not your decision to make.”

Shaking his head, he turns and walks away.

I watch him disappear into the reception area; then I turn toward the interview room. I can feel my heart thrumming in my chest. Nerves tie my stomach in a knot. Over the years, I’ve conducted hundreds of interviews. I’ve faced people who would just as soon have slit my throat as look at me. It’s strange, but I don’t ever remember being as apprehensive as I am today.

All eyes sweep to me when I enter the room. Tomasetti sits at the head of the table, slouching in his chair, doodling on a small spiral pad. Adam Slabaugh sits to his right, staring into a Styrofoam cup as if it holds the secret of the universe. Salome sits beside him, clutching a tissue, looking small and pale and … lost. She’s wearing blue jeans and a white sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big. She looks inordinately out of place here—too young, too pretty, and far too innocent to be surrounded by cops asking questions about murder.

A few feet away, her attorney leans against the wall with a BlackBerry stuck to his ear, a shepherd keeping watch over his accident-prone flock. I’ve met him at some point, but I don’t remember his name. He’s a nice-looking young man with a ruddy complexion sprinkled with freckles, reddish hair, and a matching goatee. He’s overdressed in a gray suit that looks custom-made, but it’s matched with a Walmart tie. I can smell the Polo aftershave from where I stand.

He offers me a cocky smirk as he shoves the BlackBerry into an inside pocket. “Chief Burkholder, I’m Colin Thornsberry, Miss Slabaugh’s attorney.”

Since I’m not pleased to meet him, I simply nod.

“Normally, I wouldn’t allow an officer with your kind of … personal involvement to speak to my client, but she asked to see you. Her uncle agreed it would be okay. Since this is an informal meeting…” He shrugs. “Here we are.”

I give him my best “Eat dog shit” look as I cross to the table and sit across from Salome.

“Nothing inappropriate, please,” the attorney adds. “My client has had a tremendously difficult couple of days.”

Not as difficult as her parents, uncle, and brothers, I think. But I don’t say the words.

He brushes his fingertips across Salome’s shoulder. She offers him a faint smile. Then he withdraws his BlackBerry and strides over to the window, texting like a fixated high school student.

I turn my attention to Salome. Myriad emotions rush through me in a torrent when our gazes meet. She’s been crying; her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. Even knowing everything that I do about her, there’s a part of me that’s moved. A part of me wants to go to her, believe in her, protect her from all these big bad cops and an attorney who looks at her as if she’s a piece of meat. But with four people dead, I don’t have the luxury of sticking my head in the sand.

I’m aware of Tomasetti watching me, but I don’t look at him. I hear the lawyer speaking with quiet authority into his BlackBerry. But all of my attention is focused on the girl sitting across from me. She doesn’t know about my conversation with her brothers. She has no idea I suspect her of cold-blooded murder. She still believes I’ve come here to beg her forgiveness for killing her lover.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I begin.

She sends me a small, uncertain smile. “I didn’t know if you’d come. I’m glad you did.”

I match her smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She looks down at her hands, little-girl hands. For the first time, it strikes me how incongruent they are with the rest of her, with everything that’s happened, everything she’s done.

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

She raises her gaze to mine. Her eyes are soft and benign and so utterly lovely, I can’t look away. “I just wanted to tell you … I mean, about what happened … with Mose.” She visibly swallows, blinks back tears. “I’m not mad. And I don’t blame you. I know you were only doing your job.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m glad you don’t hold it against me.” Silence weighs heavy for a moment, like the electrically charged air right before a crack of thunder. “I was afraid he was going to hurt you.”

“He never hurt me. He would never do that. He loved me.”

“I know.”

“He was trying to protect me. He was … confused.”

“I understand.”

Thornsberry passes close, listening, so I pause.

Salome struggles for composure. “I just want this to be over so I can go home and see my brothers and all of us can get back to normal.”

I wonder what normal is for her. Killing her parents? Manipulating a lover? Threatening children? Eliminating anyone who gets in the way of her goal? The thoughts make me so angry, my hands begin to shake. “I saw Ike and Samuel earlier this morning,” I tell her. “They seem to be doing okay. They asked about you. I thought you’d want to know.”

She sends me a grateful smile. “Mose was really mean to them. I’m so sorry for that. Ike and Samuel loved him so much. They looked up to him.” Two huge tears break free of her lashes and run down her cheeks. Using both hands, she quickly wipes them away, but not before Thornsberry notices and sends me a frown.

Salome continues. “Samuel and little Ike are so confused right now. I just want to hug them both and tell them everything’s going to be okay.”

“I bet you do.” Remembering how terrified the boys were of her, I suspect the only reason she wants to see them is so she can threaten them and tell them not to open their mouths.

“They’ve been through a lot,” I say.

“I still can’t believe all of this happened,” she whispers. “Mamm and Datt. Uncle Abel. And now Mose. I think my heart is broken.”

Next to her, Adam Slabaugh leans toward her and pats her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s going to be all right.”

At the window, Thornsberry blabs on about some other client’s pretrial-hearing date. I use that moment to catch Tomasetti’s eye. Not hard to do, since he’s been staring at me since I entered the room. He returns my gaze, his eyes warning me to behave.

I turn my attention back to Salome. “Did you know Mose’s parents were killed in a manure pit accident ten years ago?”

She blinks at me. The look of surprise that crosses her face seems so genuine that, not for the first time, I find myself believing its sincerity. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s odd. He didn’t tell you about it?”

Her eyes flick nervously to her uncle, then to Tomasetti, and back to me. “He told me they were killed in a buggy accident.”

Leaning forward, I put my elbows on the tabletop and lace my fingers. “You know what, honey? I think you did know. I think Mose told you all about it. And I think that’s how you conceived the idea to murder your parents.”

“What?” She chokes out a sound of pure shock. “That’s … crazy. I would never do that.”

Next to her, Adam Slabaugh stiffens. “What are you saying, Chief Burkholder? What is this? What are you doing?”

I give him a hard look. “Did you know Solly called Abel and asked him to drive down to pick up Mose and take him back to Indiana?”

He looks baffled and doesn’t respond.

I turn my attention back to Salome. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your parents found out you and Mose were having sex, didn’t they?”

“No!”

Thornsberry crosses to me, slaps his hands down on the tabletop in front of me in a dramatic gesture designed to intimidate. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Chief Burkholder?”

I ignore him, never taking my eyes off Salome. “When they threatened to send Mose away, you decided to kill your father. Mose had told you about the manure pit accident and you manipulated him into carrying out the plan, didn’t you?”

“No!” she cries.

“Your uncle was expendable, too, wasn’t he? When he fell into the pit, it was no big deal, was it?”

“Stop it!”

“Only the plan went wrong, didn’t it? Your mother fell in when she was trying to help. You hadn’t counted on that.”

“Chief Burkholder!” Thornsberry shouts. “That’s enough!”

Shock waves reverberate through the room. Across from me, Adam Slabaugh shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Why are you saying these things?” he cries.

“Because they’re true.” I stare hard at Salome. “Aren’t they?”

“Kate.” Tomasetti practically growls my name. “This is not an appropriate time to discuss this.” But he doesn’t sound very convincing, and he makes no move to stop me.

“Maybe we should wait until Ike and Samuel turn up dead,” I snap. “Would that make this more appropriate?”

Salome opens her mouth. This time, the shock I see is real. She can’t believe I’m talking to her like this, can’t believe her act isn’t working on me. She can’t believe no one in the room is coming to her rescue, protecting her from the bad bitch cop.

“You controlled Mose with sex. You manipulated and abused your little brothers by threatening them with violence,” I tell her. “You told them if they didn’t do exactly as you said, they’d be sent to jail.”

“I did not! I’m the one who saved their lives! I was afraid Mose would try to hurt them, so I threw the ball into the pit for them!”

“Is that why Mose’s prints were on that ball, not yours?” I snap.

She makes a choking sound, her mouth and eyes wide. “You’re lying!”

Adam Slabaugh rises abruptly. “Stop this! Right now!”

“Chief Burkholder, you are out of control.” Jabbing a finger at me, Thornsberry snarls the words to Tomasetti. “Get her out of here!”

Tomasetti doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge him.

I barely spare them a glance. I can’t take my eyes off of Salome. I’m waiting for that initial chink in her armor. I want to see the innocent facade crumple and watch the monster emerge. I know better than anyone: Not all monsters are ugly beasts with horns.

“Your brothers told me everything, Salome. Everything. The beatings. The secrets. The sex. The fights. And then they told me about the murders.”

“They’re lying.” She says the words quietly, but her composure is beginning to slip.

“That’s how Solly got the wound on his head, isn’t it? You hit him with the shovel.”

“Stop it.” Salome manages to look crushed. “None of that is true.”

“Your datt didn’t rape you, did he?”

“He came to my room. I was afraid to tell. It went on for months! Years!”

Across from her, Adam Slabaugh covers his face with his hands. “Solly would not,” he says in a broken voice.

“He did!” Salome screams. “I told Mose about it, and he went crazy.” She looks wildly around the room, seeking an ally, any ally. For the first time, Adam Slabaugh doesn’t look prepared to jump in to defend her.

“Miss Slabaugh.” Thornsberry puts his hands beneath her arms, pulls her to her feet. “You don’t have to answer any of her questions. In fact, don’t say another word.” He jabs a finger at me. “What the hell’s your problem? I’ll have your goddamn job for this.”

I hold Salome’s gaze, pushing her hard. “Samuel and Ike overheard you and Mose talking about the murders. They told me everything. It’s over.”

“No!” She raises her hands as if to fend me off. “You’re lying. They didn’t hear anything.” Allowing her attorney to pull her away from me, she looks wildly around the room. “She’s lying. I’m a juvenile. She can’t treat me like this.”

I don’t relent. “You made one mistake, though, didn’t you?”

“Leave me alone!” The facade is breaking away, the rabid creature beneath advancing.

“You didn’t expect your mamm to fall into that pit, did you?”

“Shut up!”

“That’s when your plan starting falling apart. You underestimated the love a child has for his mother. You underestimated Ike and Samuel and the loyalty they felt toward their mamm and datt. Those boys saw through your phony love and empty promises. And they turned on you.”

“Mose did it! He did all of it! Not me!”

“You told him you were being raped every night. Every night. That drove him crazy, didn’t it? You manipulated him. Used him.”

“I didn’t. Mose did it. He killed them.”

“When you could no longer control your little brothers, you pushed them into the manure pit, too, didn’t you? You promised them you’d come back. You had no intention of saving them, did you? You were going to let them die.”

“No!”

“It was Mose who tossed the ball into the pit. He knew you were going to try to kill them and he couldn’t handle it.”

“He couldn’t handle anything! He was stupid and weak—”

“Stop this right now!” Thornsberry shouts at Tomasetti. “She’s badgering this juvenile!” He turns his attention back to Salome, trying to drag her from the room. “Miss Slabaugh, let’s go.”

Salome shakes him off. “I would have pulled my brothers out of that pit if you hadn’t shown up! You bitch, this is your fault! Yours!”

“Earlier, you said you didn’t even know they were in the pit,” I say. “Which is it?”

The attorney grabs her arm. “Let’s go.”

The girl spins and strikes him on the shoulder with her fist. “Get off me!” Her eyes never leave mine. “Mose panicked when he saw you! He dragged me to the shed and forced me into the car. He might have killed me, too!”

“He’s not here to defend himself, is he?” I say.

“Mose did all of it. All of it! I’m innocent.”

“You never loved him. He was a means to an end.”

“I did. I loved him. I would have married him!”

But I see the lie and push harder. “Did you think you and Mose were going to just ride into the sunset? After murdering three people?”

“We were going to live here … and take care of our brothers—”

“Your brothers hate you, Salome.”

“No, they don’t!” she screams.

“In fact, they chose me over you. Me. A stranger. And now they’re going to testify against you. You’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison—”

“You fucking bitch! I wish I’d killed you, too!”

The next thing I know, she’s across the table, coming at me with claws and teeth. An instant too late, I push back, but she’s already got me. Her nails sear down my face. Her left hand fists in my hair. As if in slow motion, I see Tomasetti rounding the table, rushing at us. Adam Slabaugh makes a wild grab for his niece as she goes over the tabletop. Thornsberry reels back, his mouth opening and closing like that of a beached catfish.

And then I’m falling backward in my chair, with Salome on top of me, like a cougar intent on mauling its prey.