I pull a small evidence bag from a compartment on my belt, tuck the stem into it, and drop it in my pocket. Leaving the basket, I rise and take the steps to the side yard. The grass is freshly mowed, probably by Jeramy before he fell ill. I cross the gravel driveway and head to the horse pen and barn. The grass is knee-high here with a profusion of goldenrod and thistle with lavender tops. Closer to the barn, I see another plant that’s thigh-high with a reddish stem, egg-shaped, pointed leaves, and clusters of tiny white flowers. I go to it and kneel to study the stem. Sure enough, it’s the same as the one in the evidence bag.

If it’s red, put it to bed.…

Pulling on my gloves, I remove the small knife from my belt and cut off about a foot of the plant, capturing the stem, leaves, and flowers. An ink-like liquid the color of blood drips from the cut, and another quiver of uneasiness runs through me. I’ve seen this plant before. I was warned away from it by my mamm because it’s poisonous. It’s known by many names: nightshade. Cancer jalap. Pokeweed. There are certain times of the year when you can eat the new leaves safely, but they must be thoroughly boiled, the water tossed, and boiled again. Some Amish use the berries in pies and even harvest the tubers for canning, but you have to be very careful. My mamm never took the chance and forbade us to touch it.

Is it possible Abigail Kaufman harvested pokeweed with her dandelions and poisoned her husband? Was it accidental? Or did she harvest the green knowing fully they could kill him?

*   *   *

I met Chuck Gary when I was attending Columbus State Community College a few months after I left Painters Mill. I’d just earned my GED and enrolled in the hope of graduating with a degree in criminal justice. After what happened to me at the hands of Daniel Lapp when I was fourteen, I swore I’d never be a victim again. After a detective came to the college to speak about a career in law enforcement, I made the decision to become a police officer. It was a long and arduous journey for an Amish girl fresh off the farm. I was working part-time as police dispatcher at a substation in a not-so-nice part of Columbus. I was broke, homesick, and lonely when Chuck, then my Biology 101 instructor, befriended me, helped me land a second part-time job in the campus bookstore, and somehow persuaded me to stick it out until I got my degree.