I shake my head. “When I called her mother and told her I needed to speak with her daughter, she didn’t seem too interested. I think she dropped her off and went back to work.”

“Nice.” He sighs. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll tell us the Miller girl is at some tat shop in Wooster, getting her goddamn eyebrow pierced.”

We both know the outcome of this isn’t going to be as cut-and-dried.

When I step inside, the room goes silent and all eyes land on me. Rasmussen hangs back, giving me the floor. “I know everyone is busy, but I appreciate your coming.”

“Like we had a choice,” Angi McClanahan mutters.

Ignoring her, I turn my attention to Matt Butler, who’s so embroiled in texting that the building could be crumbling around him and he wouldn’t notice until a chunk of concrete hit him in the head. “The first thing I’m going to ask you to do,” I say, “is put away the cell phones. That includes you, Matt.”

The boy looks up, blinking, as if he’s been awakened from a dream, then powers down. His father tosses his BlackBerry and it clatters onto the table in front of him, letting me know in no uncertain terms that he’s an important man and doesn’t appreciate being pulled away from his day.

Too bad.

“What’s this all about, Chief Burkholder?” he asks.

“She’s got it out for our kids.” Kathleen McClanahan casts me a spiteful look. “They’re easier to bully than us adults.”

I don’t take the bait. “We have a missing teenager in Painters Mill. Fifteen-year-old Sadie Miller. She’s Amish and disappeared sometime last night.” I watch the reactions of each person as I relay the news, paying particular attention to Lori Westfall and Angi McClanahan.

Andy Butler looks appropriately appalled. “My God, I had no idea.”

Lori Westfall goes stone-still, her eyes looking everywhere except at me. I try to read her body language, her facial expressions, but she’s so stiff and unnatural, I can’t. Does she know something? Or is she as shocked and frightened as the rest of us and simply doesn’t know how to absorb the information?

Kathleen McClanahan doesn’t react. When I look at her daughter, Angi, some of the toughness falls away. Before her eyes skate away from mine, I see a flash of guilt, and I wonder about its source. Does she have a guilty conscience because she fought with Sadie? Or does she have another reason to blame herself? It wouldn’t be the first time bullying took an ominous turn.

I scan the group. “I need to know right now if any of you know where she is.”

“Is it possible she ran away?” Andy asks me.

“Anything is possible at this point,” I tell him.