Page 104 of Outsider

It’s a photograph of Gina and me taken the evening we graduated from the police academy. I’ve never seen it before; I have no idea who took it. But I remember the moment with clarity. We’re standing in front of the stage where the podium and chairs were set up. We’re in full dress uniform—white shirt, tie, and hat—hair pulled back into ponytails at our napes. Gina leans against me, her arm draped comfortably around my shoulders. I’ve just kissed my badge and I’m holding it up as if to tell the world “Look out! Here I come!” Our heads are thrown back in laughter. Remembering, I smile despite the pang of melancholy in my chest.

Gina and I were opposites from different worlds, but our minds—our hearts—were wide open, to each other, to the world around us, to a future that would be better than the present or the past. She was the girl who had the audacity to poke fun at my Amishness and in the same breath offer me food, a place to stay, and her friendship. She left no doubt in my mind that I would be a fool not to join her. I was the girl life had left behind. The damaged soul on the run from my own identity, a mistake I would never reconcile, and a family that would never love me the way I needed to be loved.

The woman I got to know out at the Lengacher farm isn’t the girl I met that night at the diner. The girl I’d loved like a sister and with every fiber of my young heart. But neither is she the corrupt cop she was the night she fled Columbus and wrecked her truck on that snowy township road. I like to think she’s somewhere in the middle now, that she’ll find her way to a better place.

“Now, there’s trouble waiting to happen.”

I look up to see Tomasetti approach, his eyes on the picture in my hands.

“It was taken the night we graduated from the police academy,” I tell him.

“I think I saw the movie.” He comes around behind me.

I elbow him at the mention of the old comedy, but the comment makes me laugh. “Seems like a lifetime ago,” I say. “We were so … young.”

“Not that long ago in the scope of things,” he says.

I look down at the photo. “We were so … excited. So full of dreams. Plans for the future. No holds barred.” I stare at the photo, surprised and embarrassed when I have to blink back tears. “We made a lot of mistakes. Not just Gina.”

“Just so you know … the two of you don’t exactly have the market cornered in that area. Some people refer to that particular weakness as being human.”

I nod, my emotions settling. “There was a time when she was a good cop.”

“Tough to see someone you care about go down the wrong road.”

“She was my best friend. I was closer to her than I was to my own sister.”

We fall silent, our thoughts crisscrossing the air between us.

“Do you think she has a shot at getting immunity?” I ask.

“I think if she plays her cards right, the prosecutor will come through in some way.” He shrugs. “Ask for a lot, get a little. You know how it works.” His mouth twitches. “That’s not to mention the force of her personality.”

I smile, but I’m still thoughtful. “We take so much for granted. You always think you have time to do the things you want to do, or say the things you want to say to someone. So you put it off, and you never expect fate to intervene. Or old mistakes to come back to haunt you. You never expect to run out of time.”

He tilts his head, looks at me with a little too much intensity. “A lot of weighty philosophy coming out of the chief of police’s office this afternoon.”

“Everything that happened … I guess I’ve been thinking about what’s really important.”

“And what is that?”

I scoot back my chair, get to my feet, and face him. “Us,” I say simply. “Our future.” I look around. “This moment. The people around us. The people we love.”

“Maybe it’s time we did something about it,” he says.

I’m keenly aware that the door to my office is open. That my team of officers are just down the hall and it would be unseemly for us to embrace in plain view. Then again, there’s no one close enough to see us. When his arms go around me, I don’t complain.

“Are you proposing?” I ask.

“For the second or third time now. I’ve lost count.”

“Tomasetti, I think that might be a record.”

“I wouldn’t have to humiliate myself like this if you’d stop dragging your feet and get with the program.”

I can’t help it; I laugh. “This is one of those moments,” I whisper. “You realize that, right?”

“In that case, what do you say you make short work of this staff meeting and make tracks to the farm so we can discuss this a little more in depth?” he says quietly.

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”