Castillo Linda - Outsider

But like most bodycam footage, both the audio and visual are poor quality, with a lot of movement, rustling, and background noise that got picked up by the mike.

When the video finishes, Gina straightens, her gaze flicking from me to Tomasetti. “Someone took footage from one of my arrests of Cysco and somehow spliced it with my arrest of Lee Kilpatrick. The rest is … added footage that has nothing to do with me.”

“Have you ever been involved in a shooting while on duty?” Tomasetti asks.

Gina shakes her head. “I’ve had to draw my weapon two or three times in all the years I’ve been a cop, but I’ve never fired a shot. Not once.”

“You upload your bodycam footage after every shift?” I ask.

“Of course I do. It’s policy. It’s routine. Easy to do. Never had a reason not to comply.” As she speaks, despondence and hopelessness leach into her expression. “That footage is damning. I don’t see how I can overcome it.” She says the words in a monotone, as if suddenly realizing it’s the last nail in a coffin that is now sealed. “Bodycam footage is indisputable.”

I look at Tomasetti. “Can bodycam footage be authenticated?” I ask. “Forensically?”

“There’s an authentication process,” he tells me. “BCI is contracted with an image-forensics expert out of Bowling Green. We’ve used them a dozen times in the last four or five years. They’re good.” He frowns. “We’ve never encountered dashcam or bodycam footage that’s been altered.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Gina mutters.

“Especially when it comes to you,” he says nastily.

“How do we go about getting it authenticated?” I ask.

“There are procedures in place,” he says. “Protections. In some cases, we’ve had to get court orders. In some jurisdictions, videos fall into the ‘personnel records’ classification, which means they’re private. Some of the unions have gotten involved.”

I can tell by the way Tomasetti’s looking at me that he’s concerned about the ongoing and open investigation. The one his superior refused to discuss and purportedly involves someone in the upper echelon of the Columbus Division of Police. Because of the sensitive nature of it, we didn’t tell Gina.

Tomasetti scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Most departments don’t keep the original recordings indefinitely.”

“If the original has been destroyed or altered, I’m screwed.” Gina jabs a finger in the general direction of the cell phone in Tomasetti’s pocket. “If I get charged and that video gets to a courtroom, I’m going down for murder.” She tosses a defiant look in my direction. “Looks like they found a way to get me out of the picture.”

“The media is running with it,” Tomasetti tells her. “It’s getting a lot of attention. The department is under scrutiny.”

“I did not shoot Eddie Cysco,” she snaps. “There’s got to be a way to prove it.”

“I’ll see if I can get that authenticated,” Tomasetti tells her. “It’s going to be tough. That footage is at the center of a media shitstorm and it’s probably going to get worse before it gets better.”

Gina sinks into a chair at the table, looking defeated. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Tomasetti frowns at her. “I suggest you lay low and, if it’s not too much trouble, refrain from doing anything stupid.”

“I think I’ve used up my quota of stupid,” she mutters.

A moment of silence ensues. Tomasetti makes eye contact with me and then starts toward the door. Knowing there’s more, something he didn’t want to discuss in front of Gina, I follow. He’s quiet, which likely means he’s as uneasy about this as I am.

We reach the front door. He turns to me, sets his hands on my shoulders, and squeezes. When his eyes land on mine, they’re troubled. I feel that same disquiet pulsing in my gut.

“Denny McNinch told me in no uncertain terms to back off,” he says. “Kate, he wouldn’t do that if this wasn’t … important.”

“Bigger fish to fry?” I ask.

He nods. “Whatever Colorosa is guilty of, she is not the focus of the investigation.”

“You’ve thought that from the start.” I think about that a moment. “How can that level of corruption not be the main focus?”

“They’re after someone more valuable.”

A quiver of uneasiness goes through me. “Bertrand? Mercer?”

He shrugs. “Someone at the top.”

I tell him about the neighbor seeing a vehicle parked on the road in front of the farm last night. “He didn’t know the make or model. Just thought it was odd for it to be sitting there with its headlights out, especially in light of all the snow.”

“A four-wheel-drive vehicle with chains can probably get around without too much trouble,” he says.

“Does anyone have eyes on Bertrand or Mercer?” I ask.

“I’ll see what I can find out.” His eyes latch on to mine. “Maybe you ought to get one of your guys out here to watch the place.”

“Last I heard, everyone was snowed in but Mona and Glock,” I tell him. “We’re operating on a skeleton crew as is.”

He shakes his head, looking worried. “Look, we don’t have too much longer. Denny told me this thing is about to break wide open.”

“Can’t be soon enough,” I say. “What do you think’s going to happen to Gina?”

“If she’s cleared of the shooting. If she’s got a decent lawyer who can negotiate immunity in exchange for her testimony.” He shrugs. “She might do a year or two. With everything that’s going on, it’s hard to say.”

“A lot of ifs.”

“Yeah.”

“I think she’s ready for this to be over.” I sigh. “Me, too.”

His expression softens. “Homesick?”

“Sick of snow.”

Turning to me, he raises his hand, brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “Think you can handle another day or two here?”

“Well, now that I’ve dumped the Gentleman Jack, I’m not so sure.”

He smiles. “I thought the both of you were looking a little rough around the edges.”

“I’ll take the fifth on that.”

He leans close and presses a kiss to my mouth. “I’m going to try to make another trip to Columbus in the morning. I’ve got a couple of meetings lined up.”

“Keep me posted.”

“You know I will,” he says. “In the interim, keep your eyes open. Keep your pistol handy. And don’t let Colorosa out of your sight.”

CHAPTER 26

Live your life with God’s goodness and you’ll never fear the past.

It was one of my mamm ’s favorite sayings, and I heard it a hundred times growing up. It basically means if you live your life the right way, you’ll never regret something you did in the past. I didn’t appreciate the wisdom of those words until I was well into adulthood. In light of the situation with Gina, the things she’s done, the people she’s hurt, and the uncertainty of her future, the saying has taken on a much more fateful meaning.

I have no idea how all of this is going to be resolved. There’s no doubt in my mind that Gina is guilty of serious wrongdoing, that she broke the law. To what degree, I don’t know. Even now, I’m not convinced she’s being one hundred percent honest with me—or with herself.

I check my cell for the dozenth time, finally tossing it onto the sofa in frustration. Tomasetti left just two hours ago and already I’m anxious for news. Adam and the children harnessed Big Jimmy earlier and took the sleigh to deliver firewood to Mr. Yoder. I’ve kept myself busy, checking departmental email and returning calls, but I’m restless and antsy. I’m tired of being stuck here, away from my own life and the police station where everything seems to make a little more sense—and I have some semblance of control.