Free Among the Wicked: A Kate Burkholder Novel by Linda Castillo Page A

of my right thigh. I drop the cell phone into my pocket. Both items are accessible yet undetectable. For now, I’ll keep my .38 and extra ammo tucked into my suitcase.
    It takes me another five minutes to secure my hair in a bun, roll the sides upward, and tuck all of it into the white organdy kapp . The black winter bonnet fits over the kapp . Fully dressed, I stand before the mirror in the bathroom at the rear of the travel trailer, a little shocked by my appearance.
    “Hello, Kate Miller,” I whisper.
    Beyond the door, I hear Suggs and Betancourt talking. Waiting for me. Quickly, I fold my street clothes and cram everything into the canvas bag that will stay with my Explorer. A final glance in the mirror and I open the door.
    Betancourt is standing near the dining table and does a double take upon spotting me. “That’s quite a transformation.”
    A sense of self-consciousness steals over me. I feel vulnerable, and for the first time I realize how much of my identity is based on the uniform I wear and the badge that’s now stowed in the canvas bag I’ll be leaving behind.
    Suggs is at the sink, drinking coffee. He swallows hard when he sees me. “You certainly look the part, Chief Burkholder.” I give him points for trying not to stare, but he doesn’t quite manage. “A deputy is on the way to pick up your vehicle.”
    Betancourt crosses to me and extends his hand for a shake. “If you need anything, call, day or night.” He holds my gaze, doesn’t let go of my hand. “You’re going to do great.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    He jerks his head at Suggs and then leaves.
    I blow out a breath, glance at the sheriff. “This feels weird as hell.”
    “I bet.” He grins. “Ready?”
    Plucking my coat from the back of the chair, I put it on. I’ve removed the buttons and replaced them with safety pins, which take another minute to secure. “Let’s go.”
    My Amish clothes are squeezed into a single suitcase. I rolled the baby quilts to save space and fit them into the cardboard box. Tucking the box under my arm, I extend the suitcase handle and roll it to the door.
    Outside, the engine of Betancourt’s truck roars to life. Suggs opens the door for me. “Good luck, Chief Burkholder.”
    I look at him. My heart is pounding. I wonder if my face reveals the tension running like hot wires through my nerves. I force a smile. “Roger that,” I tell him, and go through the door.
    Snow falls from a sky the color of slate. I go down the steps with Suggs behind me. My Explorer is gone. The last link to my life. Behind me, I hear Suggs stowing the steps. I’m aware of the rumble of Betancourt’s vehicle as I make my way toward the diner, but I don’t look back. As I reach the front of the building, I see the travel trailer pull onto the road.
    There are two cars and an old pickup truck parked in front of the diner. A few cars pass on the highway, but the sound of the tires is muted by snow. Propping the box on my hip, I open the door. A blast of heat and the smell of eggs fried in grease greet me. The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm” crackles over a bad sound system. Two men in brown coveralls and Ray’s Machine Shop caps sit at the counter. In an orange Naugahyde booth to my left, a woman and a little boy share a chocolate sundae. Behind the counter, a waitress in a blue uniform refills a ketchup bottle from a Sam’s Club–size container. When the door closes behind me, she looks up and frowns.
    I walk to the counter, my suitcase rolling beside me, and set the box on the nearest stool. “May I use your phone?” I ask, invoking the Pennsylvania Dutch inflection I’d fought so hard to eradicate.
    The waitress doesn’t acknowledge me. Taking her time, she sets down the condiment and screws on the lid. Behind me, I hear the door open. I glance over, see Suggs walk in and take a seat at the other end of the counter without looking at me. For a moment, I think the waitress is going to ignore my request, then