“I knew about it,” Laura admits. “She told me last summer. Evidently, the couple was in their eighties. They lost their family in a buggy accident and had no one to take care of them. Andy was on Rumspringa and had gotten into trouble a few times. The bishop saw it as a way to help that old couple—and help Andy at the same time.”

Ada lifts her chin. “Didn’t help Rebecca or Levi much, did it?”

It’s a heavy topic for a sewing circle, but sometimes tragedy has a way of loosening tongues. I take advantage of the opportunity to try to find out what else they know. “What kind of trouble did her grandson get into?” I ask.

“The bishop caught him with a radio in his buggy,” Ada tells me.

“He was sent away for that?” I keep my eyes on my sewing.

“The bishop took Andy in for counsel,” Ada says. “Next thing I know he’s gone.”

“What exactly does the bishop’s counseling entail?” I’m feigning interest in my stitching, but it’s not easy and in my peripheral vision, I see the other women look my way.

“Just a good talking to, I imagine,” Lena says. “Bishop Schrock is good with the young folks that way.”

Ada pulls her thread through the fabric with a little too much force. “Nothing good came of any of it, if you ask me.”

“Sometimes you make sacrifices to help others,” Lena says gently.

I steer the subject back to Rebecca’s missing family. “Did Rebecca hear from her grandson after he was sent away?”

“Rebecca wrote him, of course,” Ada says. “Don’t think she heard back, though.”

Naomi huffs. “He should have, but you know how those young men are sometimes.”

Lena offers a sad smile. “Maybe he’s courting a pretty Amish girl about now.”

The smiles that follow are subdued and thoughtful.

“Rebecca would have liked that idea.” Ada sighs. “I’m sure going to miss her.”

*   *   *

The afternoon at the quilt shop was a bust, at least in terms of garnering new information about the fate of Rebecca’s family. Ada is particularly displeased with Schrock and the only one willing to speak out against him. The others are either too frightened—or devoted. Tomorrow, I’ll try to get Ada alone and see what else she has to say about the bishop.

I stow the scooter bike in the shed, watching the windows and keeping an eye on the ground for tracks. I let myself into the trailer and without removing my coat, I call Suggs. “I’m going over to Schrock’s farm.”

“Shit, Kate.” The sheriff doesn’t sound pleased to hear from me.”You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

I tell him about my conversation with Marie Weaver last night. “She told me Rachel Esh lived at Schrock’s place for three weeks.”