I spot John Tomasetti’s Tahoe parked in front of my house, and a small rise of anticipation runs the length of me. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m looking forward to seeing him. I want to believe it’s because of the case. I don’t let myself analyze it any more closely than that.

We meet on the front porch. “What does Detrick have on Hershberger?” I ask as I open the door.

“I sent the blood to the lab.” He’s got snow in his hair and on his shoulders. He’s staring at me with those intense eyes and I realize I like being the focus of his attention. “It’s human.”

The news puts a chink in my hope for a quick exoneration for Jonas. I hang John’s coat in the closet. “Have they typed it?”

“The blood is O negative. Hershberger is A positive,” he says. “Brenda Johnston was O negative. DNA will tell us if it’s hers.”

“When do you expect results?”

“Five days. Seven max.”

None of this is good news for Jonas. I’m keenly aware of John behind me as I walk toward the kitchen. Flipping on the light, I go to the stove, fill the teakettle with water and set it on the flame. “You think he did it?” I ask.

“If the blood is from one of the vics, it’s a slam dunk.”

I turn to Tomasetti. “I’ve known Jonas since we were kids. He’s not a violent man.”

“People change, Kate.”

“Have you interviewed him?”

John nods.

“What do you think?”

He makes the hand sign for crazy. “I think he’s a fuckin’ loon.”

“Emotional problems don’t make him a killer.”

“Doesn’t vindicate him, either.”

“What about an alibi?”

“He rarely leaves the farm.”

“Tell me about the evidence.”

“In addition to the blood evidence, a BCI tech found a shoe believed to have belonged to one of the victims. A bloody length of baling wire. A knife that fits the specs of the murder weapon.”

The news shocks me. “Don’t you think that’s just a little too neat? Think about it. He hasn’t left a single clue behind and all of a sudden he leaves all this stuff at his own property?”

“Kate.” Surprise ripples through me when he wraps his fingers around my upper arms. “Stop. It’s over. We got him.”

I meet his gaze. “Jonas didn’t do it.”

“Because he’s Amish?”

“For God’s sake, John, he doesn’t drive. He couldn’t have been driving that snowmobile.”

“Or so he says.”

“He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Profiling isn’t an exact science.”

I sigh, wishing I could be satisfied the way everyone else seems to be. “Did you run the modified MO criteria through VICAP?”

He groans in exasperation. “Anyone ever tell you you have a hard time letting go?”

“I want to look at the reports.”

“Look, I told the analyst not to bother, since we made an arrest.”

“John, please.”

He sighs. “You’re wasting your time, but I’ll call her back and ask her to e-mail them to you.”