“What if it wasn’t? I mean, we’re talking about a baby’s life. Tomasetti, that’s huge.”

“That baby was in a trailer that had been flipped over and half crushed by a tornado. You know as well as I do that aside from a vehicle, a mobile home is one of the most dangerous places to be during a storm like that. There was a gas leak. You risked your life to get her out.”

“I know all of that,” I say testily.

“Look, you know as well as I do that when people get caught up in that kind of grief, they say and do stupid things. Paula Kester was dealt a tough hand. She needed someone to blame. So she picks a fight with you and slugs you in the face? What kind of person does that?”

“Someone who’s just lost everything, including a child.”

He lets my statement stand. “So is she married?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you ought to check, because if she’s still with that baby’s father and he’s as pissed off as she is, it might be smart to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do something foolish.”

Bending, I grasp the handle of the generator. “Ready?”

He does the same, frowning at me over the top of the motor. “Yup.”

We lift the generator in tandem and set it in the Explorer. I step back and Tomasetti closes the door, then turns to me. “You coming home after you drop off the generator?”

“Yeah.” I muster a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

He leans close and sets his mouth against mine. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I am.” Before I can stop myself, I step into his embrace and give him a hard kiss.

When he pulls away, he’s looking at me a little too closely, wondering where that came from. “Don’t stay too late.”

Nodding, I walk around to the driver’s side door, get in, and drive away.

* * *

I didn’t have time for lunch earlier, so I swing by the McDonald’s in Millersburg for a burger-to-go before heading to the station. I enter the reception area to find my second-shift dispatcher, Jodie Metzger, at her station, headset on, staring at her computer. From the radio on her desk, Foster the People belts out “Pumped Up Kicks.”

“Hey, Chief.” Rising, she shoves a stack of message slips at me. “I think the entire population of Painters Mill called for you today.”

I stop next to her station and take the messages. “Did Lois brief you on those remains found on Gellerman Road?”

She nods. “How awful for those Boy Scouts, finding human bones.” She gives an exaggerated shiver. “Lois sent you an e-mail and copied me on it before she left. Oh, and she left this file.” She scoops up a lavender-colored folder that’s already as thick as my thumb. “She printed several files from NamUs. NCIC’s in there, too. And she ran everything through LEADS.”

NamUs is the acronym for the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System. It’s the largest database of missing persons and unidentified remains in the world and allows civilians to search for missing loved ones and possibly match the missing with remains.