For the next fifteen minutes we hunker down and scan the ground as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Somewhere along the way the rest of the goat herd discovered us and, being the curious creatures they are, decided we’re fair game for nibbling and, for the horned male, targets for some friendly head butting. The only thing we’ve recovered so far is a soda can and a rusty coffee can.

“That shifty-eyed son of a bitch butts me one more time and I’m going to—” Skid’s words are cut off when a deep male voice sounds from inside the barn.

“What are you doing in my parents’ barn?”

I look up to see Abram Kaufman glaring down at me. He’s wearing the same clothes with the same bloodstains on his shirt and trousers. I see the outline of the knife in his pocket. He’s holding a pitchfork in his right hand.

“Mr. Kaufman.” Leaning my metal detector against the pen, I walk to the area directly below the doorway. “We talked to your mother earlier. She said we could take a look around.”

His eyes narrow at the sight of the metal detectors. “Why would the English police want to look around an old barn? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“It’s related to the case we talked about earlier,” I say vaguely.

He considers the metal detector at my side. “What are you looking for?”

“We were told Nolt visited here at your parents’ farm a few days before he disappeared,” I say, fishing.

The Amish man stares at me for a long while. His expression isn’t friendly. “He might’ve come around once or twice, looking for work. Or a handout.”

“Was he here the day someone fell into this pen?” I ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A little girl from next door claims to have witnessed an accident here at this farm. In this barn. She told her mother she saw someone fall into the hogpen.” I make a gesture to encompass the pen where I’m standing. “The sheriff’s department responded, made a report. Do you recall an incident like that?”

“Nothing like that ever happened.” He shrugs. “That child was always sneaking over. Leaving the gate open. Making up stories.”

“Gruesome stories?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“What did she see that day?”

“Chief Burkholder, I believe it’s time you packed up your machines and left.” His gaze rolls to Skid. “You, too. Hit the road.”

“All right, Mr. Kaufman. Whatever you say.” I make a show of switching off my metal detector. “Do your parents still raise hogs here on the property, Mr. Kaufman?” I ask as I sling the carrying strap over my shoulder.

“They’ve never raised hogs here.” He points to the south side of the pen. “There’s the gate. Make use of it. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back.”