“What about the fabric?”

The Amish woman shakes her head. “These pieces are old. See the fading there? The worn threads? The patchwork on this quilt comes from a lifetime of use.”

Nodding, I tuck the quilt back into its plastic nest and pull out the rattle. “What about this?”

Laura takes the rattle, turns it over in her hands, looking at it carefully from all angles. “I’ve seen some like it over the years. The wood is nice and smooth. Probably Amisch made. The men are so good with the carving.” She hands it back to me. “It didn’t come from Siess Kaffi.”

Disappointment presses into me as I slide the rattle back into the evidence bag. “I appreciate your time.”

She offers a sage look. “Do you mind if I ask why you’re so anxious to find out where those items came from?”

As the police chief of a small town where gossip can quickly grow into unwieldy half-truths or hurtful speculation, I’m careful how much information I pass along and to whom. But with this case—and since the cat is already out of the bag, so to speak—the community may be one of my best sources of information. “A newborn was abandoned early this morning,” I tell her. “A little girl, just hours old. Someone left her on the bishop’s front steps.”

“Oh, Good Lord. A baby.” The woman presses a hand to her chest. “Is the poor thing okay?”

“She’s doing fine.” I think of the tiny face that had stared back at me and, despite the situation, I find myself smiling. “We’re calling her Baby Doe.”

“Baby Doe.” The woman looks at me over her glasses and smiles back at me. “Kind of catchy.”

“Mrs. Schlabach, if you hear anything that might help me find the mother, will you let me know?”

“You think she’s Amisch?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I can’t imagine. The birth of a baby to an Amish family is always a happy occasion. Children are a gift from the Lord.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what kind of woman would leave her own baby.”

“A frightened one. A confused one.” I shrug. “Someone who, perhaps, felt she couldn’t care for a child at this point in her life.”

“Well, I’ll pray for the little one and her mamm,” she tells me. “And I’ll keep my ear to the grapevine.”

Leaving her with my card, I gather the evidence bags and start toward the door.

* * *

Back in the Explorer, I call my first shift dispatcher, Lois. “I need you to put out a press release on our newborn,” I tell her.

“No luck finding the parents?” she asks.

“I think this is going to be one of those cases where the public might be able to help. Hopefully, someone knows something and will come forward.”

“You think the mother is from this area, Chief?”

“I do. I think she’s Amish or has some connection to the Amish. I just don’t know what it is.” I pause. “Don’t put that in the press release.”