Castillo Linda - Outsider

The question he faced now was how to best handle the situation. Bertrand was on the warpath. He wanted Colorosa drawn and quartered, the sooner the better. In all honestly Mercer did, too. He didn’t want her spilling secrets. He sure as hell didn’t want his wife to know he’d been sleeping around. The problem was he knew more than he was letting on. Not only about Colorosa, but where she might be heading. The key, he decided, was to use that knowledge to his benefit without letting on he’d known all along.

He was reaching for his cell to check messages again when Bertrand’s Subaru Outback rolled up beside him. Hitting the door locks, he waited for the other man to join him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bertrand said as he slid onto the passenger seat. “Fuckin’ snow.”

“Yeah, well, I got a pot of chili waiting for me at home so make it quick. You said it was important.”

“I heard from the lab. They matched the blood found in the alley. It’s Colorosa’s.”

“So we winged her.”

“Looks that way.”

Mercer thought about that, didn’t let himself acknowledge the fact that it left a sour taste in his mouth. “What else?”

“Her cell phone provider—one of them, anyway—came through. We’re looking to identify every number, incoming and outgoing, in the last six weeks.”

The sour taste went bitter. “Might help,” Mercer said.

“Get this,” Bertrand said. “The last ping they got was on a tower in Fallsbury Township in Licking County.”

“Licking County?” Assuming a puzzled countenance, Mercer scratched his head. “There’s not much out that way.”

“We doubled down on known associates. She’s got a brother in Dayton, which is west. He says he hasn’t seen her in a couple of years. I got someone on the way to talk to him in person. No other family that we know of.”

Mercer looked out the window, watched a woman with a grocery cart full of bags and aluminum cans disappear into the alley at the back of the lot. He thought about Gina. He thought about known associates and the other name that came to mind. Another woman he’d been quite fond of once upon a time.

“My guess is she reached Interstate 70 eastbound,” Mercer said.

“The interstate is too far south to hit a tower in Fallsbury Township.” Bertrand shook his head. “Why the hell is she heading east, which is basically out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mercer said nothing, but his mind whirred with possibilities. If he’d learned anything during his years in law enforcement, it was how to find someone. Not only did he have a plethora of resources at his fingertips, but he was good at getting inside people’s heads.

“Look,” he said, “if Colorosa has a gunshot wound—even if it’s minor—she’ll likely be trying to get herself to a hospital or doctor. Or else she’s looking for a safe place to lay low.”

“We’re checking hospitals and clinics in Licking County,” Bertrand said. “Contiguous counties, too. There’s a hospital in Coshocton.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin, thinking. “What else is out that way?”

“There’s a good-size hospital in Millersburg,” Mercer said carefully.

“What county is that?” Bertrand asked.

“Holmes,” he said, watching the other man for a reaction. “Does she have family out that way?”

“Not that we found.”

“She might be trying to get out of the state. Pittsburgh?”

“There’s no way she could get that far in this weather.”

The two men fell silent, their minds working over the dynamics of what they knew.

“That fucking Colorosa has nine lives,” Bertrand muttered, brows knit, thinking. “What about men? She never met one she didn’t like. Any boyfriends? Old or new?”

Mercer swallowed, surprised by the hot spike of annoyance. “Not that I know of.”

“She tight with anyone else? Cops?”

“I don’t think she had many friends. But I’ll dig around, see what I can find.”

Bertrand looked at the clock on the dash. “She’s been gone fourteen hours. We need to find her before this situation turns into something we can’t fix. That bitch starts making noise to the wrong people and our lives are going to get complicated. We need to pull out all the stops.”

Feeling confined, Mercer lowered the window an inch, tried not to notice the flakes blowing in. “Let’s take a look at possible routes she might’ve taken. See what’s out that way.”

Bertrand nodded. “Maybe we can get our hands on CCTV from DOT or security cameras.” The detective shrugged. “If she stopped for gas.”

“Or a pharmacy.” Mercer looked out the window and heaved a sigh. “Damn snow isn’t helping. Let’s give it twenty-four hours. See what pops.”

Bertrand shot him a sideways look. “Twenty-four hours?” The laugh that followed held a distinctly unpleasant note. “If we don’t get a line on her by morning, we’ve got to move. You game, buddy?”

Mercer met his gaze, held it. “I’m game.”

“Good.” Bertrand reached for the door handle. “Enjoy your chili,” he said, and left the vehicle.

CHAPTER 10

I find Gina at the kitchen table, staring down at a mug of coffee in front of her. Adam and the children have gone to the barn, ostensibly to ogle the newborn calf. More than likely he’s avoiding us—or doing his best to shield his kids from Gina’s not-quite-child-appropriate language.

She looks up when I enter and offers a halfhearted smile. “So this is how you grew up, huh?”

I go to the old-fashioned percolator on the stove, grab a mug, and pour. “In a farmhouse,” I say. “Just like this one.”

“How do they do it?” she asks. “I mean, live without electricity and a phone?” She shudders. “Not to mention heat.”

“They manage.” I take the chair across from her and set my mug on the table. “It’s not so hard when that’s all you’ve ever known.”

She chortles. “I guess that explains why you were in such a fired-up hurry to leave.”

Gina is one of the few people I told about what happened when I was fourteen years old. She knows about Daniel Lapp, the boy who raped me when I was too young to even comprehend that such things existed in my safe and protected world. I lost my sense of belonging that summer. Though I remained Amish and lived with my parents for another four years, I felt as if I’d been abandoned not only by my family, but by the community that had once been the center of my world. I became an outsider those last years, as if I’d been cast adrift by some rogue wave that washed away the foundation upon which my life was built.

Gina knows that my parents swept the incident under the proverbial rug, and that their lack of support was one of the reasons I left. She also knows there’s more to the story than I’ve told her. To her credit she never asked, she didn’t judge me, and never broached the subject again.

The thing she did do, this most unlikely of individuals, was help me pull myself together and build a new foundation. She gave back to me something that had been stolen. Something precious that had been missing for so long I didn’t even realize it was gone.

“Who would’ve thought an eighteen-year-old Amish girl could leave the only place she’s ever known and not only make a new start in the big bad city, but become a cop?” She gives me that trademark smile again. The crooked one that’s impish and bold.

“Not me,” I tell her.

“Do you remember the day we met?”

“I remember that diner.”

“Nasty.”

“Food was good.”

“If you like fries with your grease.”

We stare at each other and for an instant we’re those girls again. Gina was confident, brash, and utterly certain that she was going to take the world by storm. All she needed was her big break and by God she was going to make it happen, if only by the sheer force of her will. I was lost, light-years out of my element, missing the only life I’d ever known—my parents, my siblings, my Amish identity—and I was equally certain that same world was going to tear me apart piece by piece.