“I never even considered having it. Not for one second. In the eyes of the Amish, that’s considered murder.”

“Not everyone sees it that way. Especially considering the circumstances.”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told.”

“A lot of weight to carry around all these years.”

I smile at him. “You and I, we have strong shoulders, don’t we?”

“Probably a good thing.”

I look down at my bottle of beer. “When I read Mary Plank’s journal, she became a real person to me. An Amish girl with a heart full of hopes and dreams. I was her once. All that hope. So many dreams. But I was lucky. I got my future. She deserved the chance to live her life. Long killed her twice. First he killed her innocence, then he took her life.”

“This case brought it all back for you.”

“I hadn’t thought about my pregnancy or the abortion in years. I never let myself go there. Not even once.” I’m alarmed when tears threaten. They are a female cop’s worst enemy. One that can zap credibility faster than bad police work or sleeping around or both.

Because I can’t look at Tomasetti, I put my face in my hands and sigh. “I know that in the scope of things, it’s not important. It’s over. Ancient history. The Planks are dead. Mary is dead. Long is dead.”

“It’s important.” He slides his hand across the table.

For a moment I’m afraid he’s going to take my hand. I’m relieved when he only runs his fingertips over my forearm. Too much kindness from him at this moment would crumple me.

“But life goes on,” he says. “It’s an unstoppable force. That was the hardest thing for me to accept when Nancy and the girls were killed. It’s the living who are left to suffer. A hard truth, but that’s the way it is.”

“Tomasetti, you’re not making me feel any better.”

“What are friends for?”

I manage to give him a small smile. “You probably came here to get laid, and I blabbered all over you instead.”

His laugh is deep and throaty. I like the sound of it, realize he doesn’t do it often enough. And a flush spreads over me like warm oil. “Sounds like you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Thanks for listening,” I say after a moment.

“I’m glad you told me.”

The bottle of Absolut sits half empty on the table between us. The jukebox has moved on to an old Neil Young rocker. I reach for the bottle and fill both shot glasses. There’s more to say, but we both know enough has been said for tonight.

Tomasetti picks up his glass. “Are we going to get drunk?”

“I think so.”

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”

I raise my drink. “Another thing we have in common.”