“Kate. Stop.” He steps away, slides his hands over my shoulders to my biceps and squeezes gently. “You don’t know any of that for sure. You can’t blame yourself for something that might’ve happened anyway.”

“You told me I shouldn’t be a cop. Maybe you were right.”

“Or maybe I was being an overbearing ass.”

I choke out a laugh. Some of the pressure compressing my chest releases.

He offers a half smile. “What? No argument?”

“Well…”

We fall silent, trying not to think or feel too much, failing on both counts.

“Are we going to be okay?” I ask.

“We’re going to be fine.”

“What about the future?”

He lifts his hand and sweeps a strand of hair from my face. His eyes search mine. His knuckles linger against my cheek. “Might be a good idea to keep that bassinet handy. I mean, just in case.”

“It is beautiful. One of a kind…”

“And old. Kind of like me.” His eyes burn into mine as he recites the proverb inscribed into the bottom of the bassinet: “A child is the only treasure you can take to heaven.”

“I love that.” Fresh tears fill my eyes and course down my cheeks. “And I love it that you remembered.”

“The proverb might be Amish, but I’ve known it for a long time.”

Raising up on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his cheek, then wipe the tears from my face. “Tomasetti, if we’re going to get any fishing done, we should probably get started.”

“I think you’re right.”

Stepping away from him, I bend and pick up one of the bamboo poles. “Do you think you could bait my hook for me?”

He takes the pole. “You’re kind of squeamish for an Amish girl.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread that around. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Hey, your secret’s safe with me.” He steps away, spots the flashlight lying against the cooler, picks it up, and turns it on. I watch as he takes it to the edge of the dock and sets it down so that the beam shines out over the water to draw insects—and fish.

“So what’s going to happen to Abigail Kline?” Bending, he opens the tackle box containing hooks, lures, bobbers, and fishing line, and begins to rummage.

“She admitted to poisoning her husband. She could be charged with first-degree murder, but I suspect the county attorney will strike a deal and go with second-degree. I mean, she found out Jeramy had murdered her lover. He’d lied to her for thirty years. If the case goes to trial, the jury will probably be sympathetic. Better chance of a conviction if she’s prosecuted for a lesser charge.”

“What about the Kaufmans?”