“Nolt’s sister, Rachel Zimmerman, saw him with an Amish girl a couple of weeks before he went missing,” I tell them. “Unfortunately, she can’t identify the girl. We need to ID her.” I pick up a photo of the ring Dr. Stevitch sent and hand it to Pickles. “The FA found this ring at the site. It looks like a woman’s engagement ring. We think the deceased had it on his person at the time of his death.”

Pickles tilts his head back and looks at the photo through his bifocals. “You know, there used to be a little jewelry store here in Painters Mill. Can’t recall the name, but they used to sell cheap jewelry. Closed years ago.”

My interest quickens. “How long ago?”

“Gosh, Chief, that place probably closed fifteen or twenty years ago. Only reason I remember is I bought Clarice a charm bracelet there once when she got pissed off at me.” He slaps the photo against his palm. “Daisy’s. That was the name.”

“See if you can run down the owner,” I tell him. “Show that photo and find out if they sold that ring. We need the name of the customer.”

Pickles’s chest puffs out a little. “I’m on it.”

“Chief, do you think this mystery woman was involved in his death?” T.J. asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “It’s something we need to look at.”

“Can’t see a female moving a body,” Skid says.

“Or body parts,” Glock interjects.

“The whole hog thing doesn’t sound like the kind of crime a woman would commit,” Pickles adds.

“The Nolt family is Mennonite, aren’t they?” Glock asks.

I nod. “If the girl was Amish, maybe he felt he couldn’t tell anyone because her parents didn’t approve.”

“Or his parents.” From her place at the door, Mona adds, “Could be a source of conflict between the families.”

A thought pings at the base of my brain. Something I’ve seen or heard recently. Something to do with the Amish. I reach for the thought, but it slips away and then it’s gone. “T.J., I want you to talk to the people who live near the barn on Gellerman. See if any of them were living there thirty years ago. Maybe someone remembers seeing something.”

“You got it, Chief.”

I tell them about my conversation with the surgeon who repaired Nolt’s broken arm. “Hopefully, the serial numbers will be a match and we’ll have a positive ID.” I gather my notes, tuck them into the folder, and look out at my team. “Thanks for coming in, everyone.” I glance over my shoulder at Mona. “Thanks for staying late to be here.”

She grins and gives me a funky salute.