The information on the best friend is sparse. Sixteen-year-old Marie Weaver. No photo. She works part-time at a mom-and-pop restaurant called Huston’s outside Roaring Springs.

“Best friend might be a good source of information,” I say. “Have you talked to her?”

“Girl’s a piece of work.” Suggs sighs tiredly. “I talked to all of them, Chief. No one knows shit about shit. Or else they’re not talking.”

“What’s your gut tell you?”

“Frankly, I can’t figure these people out. Here we are, trying to get to the bottom of a girl’s death, and yet getting anything out of them has been like pulling teeth.”

I nod, not surprised. “Does Schrock have a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head. “Not that I’ve been able to find.”

“That seems odd,” Betancourt says. “I mean, even for an Amish guy, right?”

“Most Amish men are married with grown children by that age,” I tell them. “Most widowers remarry, so it’s an interesting detail.”

We fall silent, then I look from man to man. “I suppose I should ask about my accommodations.”

Betancourt glances at Suggs, but there’s something in his eyes, a look that tells me I’m not going to like what comes next.

“We considered putting you up in the Sleepy Time Motel, but it didn’t seem quite right for an Amish woman,” Suggs tells me. “Especially since you’re supposedly going to be laying down roots.” He clears his throat. “I looked at several rentals, and frankly, we’re a little limited in Roaring Springs. I finally found a trailer home north of town.” He grimaces. “It’s fully furnished, including linens and dishes. The landlady, Brenda Bowman, keeps the place real clean. It’s not the Ritz, Chief, but the location is damn near perfect.”

The word “trailer” roils uneasily in my gut, but I quickly remind myself it’s part of my cover and I’ll only be here for a short time.

“Most important thing is that it’s just half a mile down the road from Schrock’s place,” Betancourt adds, “and close to town.”

“Close to the scene where Rachel Esh’s body was found, too,” Suggs adds. “Bowman rents almost exclusively to the Amish. She’s no frills so you won’t have to jump through any hoops. First and last month’s rent.” He jerks his head toward Betancourt. “We’ll supply you with the cash.”

“I’m sure you have a personal cell phone?” Betancourt asks.

“I do.”

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out a basic smartphone. “We got a backup for you. My cell number is programmed in. Same with Dan’s. And a direct line to the sheriff’s department. All on speed dial.” He nods at Suggs. “We’ll have our cells with us at all times while you’re here, day and night, and that includes when we’re in the shower.”

“I’ll have to leave it on vibrate when I have it on my person,” I tell him.

“Let’s check it now.” Suggs pulls out his own phone.

I pick up the phone and set it to vibrate. The sheriff hits a button, and the phone vibrates soundlessly in my hand. “Good enough,” I tell them.