Linda Castillo - Sworn to Silence

I don’t know how long I stand there. It’s as if this revelation has paralyzed me. The logical side of my brain tells me to bury this part of my past and go home. Forget about Lapp and concentrate on finding the killer. Salvage what’s left of my career. I begin dragging wood over the remains. When that’s done I go to the cable and proceed to climb out of the pit. I’m in good shape, but it’s not easy. I’m nearly to the top when I catch a glimpse of movement above. Too large to be a dog or raccoon. Someone’s there. Shock jolts me with such force that I nearly lose my grip. I freeze, my body shaking, my thoughts reeling.

Did someone follow me?

I look up, but see nothing. I hear myself breathing hard. My hands ache from clutching the cable. I’m aware of my gun against my side. But even armed, I’m in a vulnerable position. If someone wanted to harm me, this would be a prime opportunity.

I begin a frantic climb to the top. The toes of my boots dig into the walls. Loose dirt crumbles. My breaths echo off the walls. I slide my hands up the cable, pulling until my muscles quiver with exertion.

Finally, at the mouth of the pit, I drag myself out. Shaking and gasping for breath, I look around and get the shock of my life. John Tomasetti stands ten feet away, his flashlight in one hand, a sleek Sig Sauer semiautomatic in the other. His eyes burn into mine and then he blinds me with the light.

“Looking for something?” he asks.

My mind scrambles for a lie. My pulse roars like a jet engine on takeoff. I can only imagine how bizarre this must seem to him. I’m covered with dirt and probably look as strung out as a junkie on a three-week binge. Lucky for me I’m pretty fast on my feet. “I’m following up on a lead.” I make a show of brushing dust from my pants. “What are you doing here?”

He ignores my question, his flashlight beam moving from me to the pit. “Lead on what?”

I don’t want him near the pit. I’m not sure how well I covered those bones. I want to slide the grate back into place and get the hell out of there. “An anonymous call about illegal dumping. Guy claiming someone dumped paint and some type of solvent.”

It’s a viable lie. An ordinary person would believe it. But John Tomasetti is no ordinary schmuck. I can tell by his expression he doesn’t believe me.

“Did you find anything?” he asks.

“Not a thing.” I pull the cable from the pit and start toward the Explorer. “Crank call, probably. Teenagers. We get that here.”

“Maybe I’ll have a look for myself.”

“There’s nothing down there but rats.” It strikes me then that it’s no coincidence Tomasetti is here. He didn’t drive by and see my headlights. The son of a bitch followed me.

The realization rattles me further as I slide behind the wheel. Tomasetti circles the pit as I move the Explorer into position. I need to get that grate over the pit before he decides to act on all that suspicion I see in his eyes.

I back the Explorer to the grate and slide out. My hands shake so badly now I can barely get the hook around the undercarriage.

“You nervous about something, Chief?”

“Just cold.”

“You’re in an awful big hurry to cover that hole.”

“I just want to get home.”

He pauses. “Kate, what the fuck are you really doing?”

I don’t look at him. I can’t. I’m too close to some precipitous edge. Once I go over the brink, I may not be able to drag myself out. “Look, this is the second complaint I’ve taken about dumping here,” I snap. “I didn’t feel like going home, so I’m following up.”

“Is that why you’re shaking?”

I finish with the hook and straighten, meeting his gaze. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s cold.”

“You’re fucking sweating. Covered with dirt. Look at you. Now what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know what you think you know, but I don’t appreciate you following me around, spying on me. Whatever it is you’re doing, I want it to stop. You got it?”

“You’re lying to me and I want to know why.”

I laugh. “You need to talk to someone about all that paranoia, Tomasetti.”

“You didn’t go into that pit because you were following up on a complaint.”

“Like you know.”

Abruptly, he strides toward me, shines the light in my eyes. “You want to know what I know, Chief? I know that someone in this town believes you know who the killer is. I think you’re hiding something.” He thrusts a finger at the pit. “And I know you didn’t go into that goddamn hole because of some anonymous tip.” He circles the boot pit, shining his light into the darkness. “If I go down there, what am I going to find?”

“What do you want from me? Did Detrick tell you to follow me? Or was it the town council? Are you their new lapdog?”

One side of his mouth lifts. I can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling. “You know better than that.”

“Do I?” I start toward the Explorer. I’m close to pulling this off. All I have to do is slide the grate back into place and leave. I don’t think he’ll go to the trouble of moving it again.

I climb behind the wheel and twist the key. The engine turns over. I reach for the shifter. The next thing I know the door flies open. I gasp when Tomasetti reaches in, turns off the ignition and takes my keys.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jumping out, I make a wild grab for the keys.

He drops them into his pocket. “Let’s just say I’m following up on a hunch.”

“This is ridiculous. Give me my keys. Now.”

Removing the cable from the grate, he tosses one end into the pit.

Panic ignites in my chest. I can’t let him find those bones. “You’re overstepping.”

“Not the first time I’ve been accused of that.”

“I swear to God I’ll have your job for this.”

Taking hold of the cable, he braces his legs against the side and drops into the hole like a rock climber.

“Tomasetti, damn it, stop playing games. I want to leave.”

No answer.

“Damn it! There’s nothing there!” I look around wildly. For a crazy instant I actually consider pulling out the cable and stranding him. Of course, I can’t do that. I’m going to have to deal with this. With what I’ve done. The secrets I’ve covered up all these years.

My entire life flashes before my eyes. My career will be ruined. My parents’ memory, their reputations, will be dragged through the mud right along with the rest of the Amish community. My brother and sister and nephews will suffer. I could find myself facing a grand jury. Worse case scenario, I could be tried and sent to prison for murder . . .

I rush to the pit and look down to see Tomasetti shove a piece of plywood out of the way with his foot. I can see the skull from where I stand. Dizziness descends. I feel sick and terrified. I can’t believe this is happening.

“What the fuck?”

Turning away, I press my hand to my stomach. I can’t cover this up. It’s over. The secrets end here. Nausea seesaws in my gut. I make it ten feet before I throw up. The thud of my knees hitting the ground surprises me. I’ve been knocked unconscious before, but I’ve never fainted. The swirl of confusion tells me I’m close now. Somehow I lose time, seconds or maybe even minutes, because the next thing I know Tomasetti is kneeling beside me.

I jolt when his hand touches my shoulder. I’m embarrassed and humiliated, but I’m not sure I’m finished puking so I don’t move. I don’t acknowledge him. I look down at my gloves in the dirt and I feel like crying.

“You okay?” he asks after a moment.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”

I dry heave and spit.