“I need to speak with her. It’s important.”

The woman stops sweeping and, giving me a stern look, sets the broom against the siding and shuffles to the door. “Wait.”

A few minutes later an Amish man of about thirty emerges from inside the house. He’s dressed in black—trousers, suspenders, jacket, and hat—with a white shirt. His beard is the color of coal dust and reaches nearly to his belly. But it’s his face I can’t look away from. He’s the spitting image of Leroy Nolt.

“You must be Abigail’s and Jeramy’s son,” I say.

“I’m Levi Kline.” His eyes slide to T.J. and back to me. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to speak with your mother. Is she home?”

“She’s grieving.” A pained look crosses his face. “Must you speak with her now?”

“I’m afraid this won’t wait. I’m sorry.”

His mouth tightens. For an instant, I think he’s going to refuse to get her, then he gives me a nod and goes back inside.

When he’s out of earshot, I look at T.J. “Why don’t you go around to the back door in case someone decides to take a stroll?”

He’s already midway down the steps. “Gotcha.”

I wait several minutes, resisting the urge to pace. I’m about to knock again, when the screen door squeaks. Levi Kline steps onto the porch, looking slightly puzzled. “She’s not in her room.”

I cross to him and look past him to see the old woman hovering just inside, looking at me. “Where is she?” I ask, posing the question to both of them.

The woman turns away without answering.

I look at Levi and raise my brows. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I thought she was in her room, lying down. She’s not been sleeping well.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see her leave. But … we were in the kitchen earlier.” He looks perplexed. “Mrs. Beiler thinks she saw her go outside.…”

The elderly woman, I realize. “How long ago?”

“An hour or so.”

“Is she somewhere on the property? Or did she leave?” I ask, the initial fingers of urgency pressing into me. I don’t believe Abigail poses any immediate danger—not to others, anyway—but she is a person of interest in a possible homicide, and I need to know where she is.

“I can’t imagine her leaving at a time like this. Maybe she needed some quiet time to think. You know, to be alone, and walked down to the pond or something. Datt used to go down there.” Kline rubs his chin, shakes his head. “I’d like to take a walk down there to see if I can find her.”