“Hell yes I should know!” He snaps the words and I sense him reeling in his temper, trying to be patient with me. “I’m glad you’re okay. How did they gain entry?”

“I don’t know. The door was locked.”

A beat of silence as he mulls that bit of information. “Is it possible they have a key?”

“If the landlady rents to the Amish and doesn’t change the locks between tenants … it’s possible.”

“I use a locksmith here in Roaring Springs. I can get him out there first light.”

“I know this sounds paranoid, but if someone’s watching the trailer … might be better if I change it myself.”

“What about tonight? What if they come back?”

“It’ll be the last time they walk into someone’s home uninvited.”

He makes a sound of discomfort. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m warming up. Hands and feet hurt.”

“I meant what I said before, Kate. If you want to end this, just say the word. We’ll get you out pronto. No problem. Do you understand?”

The prospect of going home tantalizes me. My mind flashes to my big farmhouse kitchen. The ever-present smells of coffee and potpourri. Tomasetti singing off-key in the shower. The police station with my cramped little office and beat-up desk. At this moment, they’re the most comforting images in the world.

The cop inside me rejects any notion of comfort. I need to finish this assignment, especially now that someone has made it personal. Maybe it’s my ego talking; a reflection of my anger at being bested and hurt, but there’s no way I can walk away. I need to know who tried to kill me tonight and why. I have a feeling once I do, I’ll know what happened to Rachel Esh.

“I’m going to finish this,” I tell him.

“I appreciate that, Kate. I really do. But the last thing anyone wants is for you to put yourself at risk. You’ve gone above and beyond already.” He pauses. “I don’t have to tell you that what happened to you tonight could have turned out a hell of a lot worse.”

“I know exactly what could’ve happened. I won’t let my guard down again.”

“All right.” He shifts gears. “Any idea why these two men would risk getting into trouble with the law to lock you in a chicken coop? What could they hope to gain?”

“Since they believe I’m Amish, they’re betting I won’t go to the police. Most Amish—particularly the Old Order and Swartzentruber—would rather handle things on their own than involve outsiders.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that. I’ve seen it. But why do it at all?”

“To send me a message. Intimidate me.” I repeat what one of the men told me. This is what we do to nosy Amish women. “It’s interesting that he used the word ‘we.’”