Down a Dark Road (Kate Burkholder #9)

“How did Naomi and Joseph King play into all of it?”

“According to Tuck, Travers pursued Naomi King. Charmed her. Made all these phony promises. He had a sexual relationship with her. Travers was manipulating her and laughing about it behind her back.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t imagine with her being Amish and all but…” She lets the words trail. “Tuck said Naomi King got serious about Travers. She wanted to leave the Amish. Leave her husband. Her kids.

“Travers has four kids. He’s married to the sheriff’s daughter. Had his eye on becoming sheriff one day. If any of what he was doing came to light…” She shrugs. “He had a lot to lose.”

“So he murdered her,” I say. “He framed her husband. And if it hadn’t been for Sidney Tucker, he would have gotten away with it.”

“Tuck and you, Burkholder,” Cascioli adds.

I wish I could take solace in the knowledge, but I can’t. Joseph and Naomi King are still dead. Their children will still grow up without their parents.

“How is it that Joseph King was convicted of domestic violence?” I ask, bracing because I don’t want to hear that Joseph had been abusive to his wife.

“From what I understand, Naomi had a cell phone her husband didn’t know about. That’s how she communicated with Travers. She’d call him sometimes when she and Joseph got into it. A few times, Travers or Rowlett showed up and took Joseph to jail. They embellished their police reports.”

I find myself thinking about the footloose boy I’d known. Joseph King had had so many hopes and dreams for the future. All of it taken from him by a corrupt few.

“How deep did the corruption go?” I ask. “I mean, Wade Travers was Jeff Crowder’s son-in-law.”

Cascioli glances at Tomasetti.

“We’re looking at Crowder,” he tells me. “That’s all I can say at this point.”

I think about how Crowder treated me during the standoff and for the first time it makes perfect, awful sense. For now, it’s enough.

I turn my attention to Cascioli. “I didn’t have the chance to thank you for saving my life,” I tell her. “If there’s anything I can do to help you get back on your feet…”

“Once I’m through all these surgeries,” she says, “I’m going to apply at a couple of police departments, maybe a sheriff’s department. A reference would be nice.”

“You got it.”

Giving me her best tough-guy impression, despite the emotion I see in her eyes, she turns and starts toward the Tahoe.

I look toward the gathering of Amish, where Bishop Fisher is in the midst of a sermon that’s rife with admonitions and ample references to the life and character of the departed.

“You and the bishop didn’t tell them about Naomi King’s indiscretions?” Tomasetti asks.

I glance over at him and shake my head. “We figured the King family had been through enough.”

I watch Cascioli climb into the Tahoe and slam the door. “Are they going to put her before a grand jury?”

He shakes his head. “She still has her peace officer certification. When she walked into the scene with you, Rowlett, and Travers, she had a right to defend herself and an obligation to intervene.”

We fall silent for a moment, both of us watching the service. “Crowder’s going down,” he says. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

“Hear what?” I smile, but once again my attention is on the service.

“Why don’t you go over there and pay your respects?” Tomasetti says. “I’m going to drop Cascioli at her apartment and then I have to get back to Richfield.”

Before I can stop myself, I reach for his hand and squeeze. “See you tonight?”

“Bet on it,” he tells me.

I watch him walk away and then I start toward the service to bid a final farewell to my childhood friend and let go of another piece of my past.