“No. Kids are different. They’re…” He shakes his head. “My children. Kate, the way I loved them. It was … everything. When they died…” His mouth tightens, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I can’t do that again. I won’t.”

That’s when it strikes me that while I’m light-years out of my element, Tomasetti has done this before. He’s loved another woman. He’s been through multiple pregnancies with her. Two births. He became a father. Loved his children. He watched them grow and experienced the ups and downs of being a dad. He’d loved two little girls for nine and eleven years, then they were taken from him—stolen from him—by violence when a career criminal decided to make an example of what could happen to a cop who dared cross him. Tomasetti has come a long way since those dark days. But he hasn’t recovered. He may never recover completely.

“What do you suggest we do?” I ask.

“I don’t know the answer to that.”

“What do you want?”

He shakes his head again. “I want things to be the way they were,” he tells me. “Before.”

“You want me to get an abortion.” The words are out, an ugly, unpredictable beast let out of its cage.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it. I see it on your face. All this … urgency. As if this is a problem that must be dealt with quickly, before it turns into—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Just stop.”

“Why? Because you can’t deal with it? Because you don’t want to? Because you’re afraid to try? For God’s sake, Tomasetti, I’ve never thought of you as a coward.”

“Cut it out,” he snarls.

“We’re talking about the life of an innocent baby that has nothing to do with your baggage. Or mine.”

He says nothing. He doesn’t look at me. Makes no move to bridge the chasm between us. For an instant, I consider going to him. I need him. I don’t understand why he can’t open his mind. His heart. But something inside won’t let me take that first, treacherous step.

“Have you bothered to consider the possibility that this isn’t just about you?” I ask.

When he doesn’t respond, I turn away, grab my utility belt off the chair, my jacket off the coatrack. He says nothing as I yank open the door and go through it.

As I run toward the Explorer, I’m keenly aware that he doesn’t call out my name.

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

“Well, Burkholder, you handled that with your usual eloquence and grace.”