“Heck, yeah, I remember.” She gives a hearty belly laugh. “Gave me nightmares for a month. Nine-year-old kid doesn’t forget something like that.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She chuckles as if at herself, then looks at me from beneath her lashes. “Well, I used to sneak over to their farm. It was dumb, I know, but when you’re nine and bored…” Rolling her eyes, she shrugs. “Anyhoo, I sneaked over there one afternoon. That old bank barn in the back. I climbed through the hay chute and I’m poking around on the second level, when these three Amish guys came out.” She sobers and I can see the memories taking her back to a place that’s not quite comfortable. “They were speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, so I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I could tell they were arguing.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“I was down the hay chute with the hatch open a few inches, so I couldn’t see their faces. All I could see was their legs and feet.”

“What exactly did you see?”

Her mouth tightens. “At first the men were just talking. Then things got loud. They started yelling and there was some scuffling, and, oh boy, my heart was pounding like a drum. Then things got really weird. I mean, I always thought of the Amish as gentle and religious, you know? Well, let me tell you something, Chief Burkholder, that day they were neither. They were yelling like a bunch of drunken bikers. I heard cursing. There was some pushing and shoving and hitting. Then I swear I saw a guy fall out that big hay door in the back and into the hogpen below.” She shivers. “I’ll never forget the way his body sounded when it hit the pipe fence, then the concrete below. I’ll tell you this: He didn’t get up, and I swear all those pigs ran over to him and started crowding and squealing and God only knows what else. The whole thing scared me something awful.”

“Did you see the face of the man who fell?”

“Just a glimpse.”

“Can you ID him?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What did you do?”

“I got the heck out of there. Ran home as fast as I could and told my mom. She called the sheriff. They came out to the house, asked me a few questions and wrote everything down. My mom told me later that Mr. Kaufman told the police that he was slaughtering hogs and that must have been what traumatized me.”

“Is that what happened?” I ask.