“Judge, Leroy Nolt went missing at about the same time Sally Burris saw a man fall into the pigpen in the course of an argument at the Kaufman farm.”

“It says here she was nine years old! I don’t believe that’s a reliable age, especially when it’s been thirty years since the incident.”

“She’s reliable.”

He removes his glasses. “Kaufman said he’d been butchering hogs. That’s enough to upset any nine-year-old little girl.” Spitting out a sound of skepticism, he taps on my notes with a stubby index finger. “And she didn’t see their faces. She can’t even identify anyone. Come on. You know that’s not enough for a damn warrant.”

“All I need is a few hours in the barn and pens with a metal detector.”

“If you’re wrong, do you have any idea what this will do to relations between the Amish and the rest of us? Things are already strained. We’ve already got them selling out and moving to Upstate New York. You go out there and start searching for body parts, and all hell is going to break loose.”

“Judge Seibenthaler, with all due respect—”

He chops the air with his hand. “Not going to happen, Kate.”

“What do you need?”

“For starters you can produce DNA that proves those bones are Nolt’s. Until then, I’m not going to approve a search warrant for their farm or anyone else’s. Without a positive ID, I just can’t do it.”

I tamp down annoyance, keep my voice level. “Judge, I believe Leroy Nolt was murdered. Someone has gotten away with it for thirty years. I think Jeramy Kline and Abram Kaufman are involved.”

“You think? Kate, that’s not good enough. For God’s sake, we can’t go around shaking down Amish families. Bring me some proof. Bring me something more concrete than a theory based on something a nine-year-old girl may or may not have seen thirty years ago. Otherwise, I can’t help you.” He looks at his watch. “Now I have to go.”

*   *   *

Despite my best efforts, I’m still frustrated when I arrive back at the station. I make a conscious effort not to slam the door when I walk in.

“Everyone’s here, if you’re ready.” At her dispatch station, Lois stands, eyeing me cautiously as I stalk past. “I take it your meeting with Seibenthaler didn’t go well.”

“That would be an understatement.”

In my office, I snatch my notes off my desk, then make my way to the storage-room-turned-conference-room. My temper settles when I find my entire team assembled and waiting. I can’t help but smile when I see Pickles sitting at the end of the table, a large McDonald’s coffee steaming in front of him. I catch a whiff of English Leather when I walk past him. “Glad you could make it, Pickles.”