Page 74 of Rage

“How close were you to Samuel Yutzy?” I ask.

“We were a thing.” It’s a flippant response, but I didn’t miss her involuntary wince when I said his name. She doesn’t make eye contact with me, keeping her gaze on the tabletop. Hardened, I think, but the I-don’t-give-a-shit suit of armor hasn’t quite been perfected.

“Was it serious?” I ask.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, he was a decent guy. Really nice. Me?” She gives a head toss. “Not so much.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I met him at a rager almost a year ago.” For an instant the hardness of her features relaxes into an expression that seems more natural for an eighteen-year-old. “He bought me a beer. We listened to some music. Danced. Got to talking.” She shrugs. “He’s the last kind of guy I usually like, but we hit it off.”

“You started dating?”

She shifts in the chair, frowns at me. “We stayed in touch for a time. I was…” She sighs. “Having some problems and he … helped me out.”

“What kind of problems?”

She looks at me as if I’m dense. “I’m Amish. I’d just left. I didn’t have any money. Or anyplace to go. Sammy … he helped me out.”

“How did he help you?”

“He let me borrow a little money.” But she’s more thoughtful now. “He had a lot of friends. I mean, he knew everyone. One of his friends said I could stay with her for a while. She took me in.”

“What’s her name?”

“Shelley.”

“Last name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did she live?”

She raises her eyes to mine, insolent and hard. “A little apartment over in New Philly.”

“Did you continue to see Samuel?” I ask.

Her expression softens again. This time, her guard is down and it’s more apparent. “He kept coming around. We became friends, I guess. He took me out a few times. Went dancing.” The hint of a smile on her mouth. “He was kind. And he was a lot of fun.”

“Did you have to pay Shelley rent?” I ask.

Her smile falls. Her features go hard again. “I didn’t have any money. I mean, not one cent. Shelley let me stay, but it was temporary.”

“What did you do?”

She tightens her mouth. “Sammy said he knew a guy who owned a restaurant. He said they were looking for servers. No experience necessary. He said he could get me on there if I wanted.”

“Where?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “The Blue Lake Tap in Millersburg.”

Across from us, Tomasetti sits up straighter.

“How long did you work there?” I ask.

“A few months.”

“You were still seeing Samuel?”