“We drink beer and smoke.” She glances over her shoulder at Rasmussen and hastily adds, “Cigarettes, I mean.” Her gaze lands on me. “You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?”

“We’ll deal with that after we find Sadie, okay?”

The girl stares at me, as if the gravity of the situation is starting to sink in. “Do you think something bad happened to her?” she asks.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

Ten minutes later, Angi McClanahan slides into the visitor chair adjacent to my desk. Rasmussen drags in an extra chair for her mother and then takes his place at the door.

I turn on the tape recorder, recite all the obligatory information, and turn my attention to Angi. “When did you last see or hear from Sadie?”

“I guess it was the day I beat the shit out of her.” The girl’s mother snickers, but I don’t look away from Angi. She’s pleased with herself. Pleased with the temerity of her answer and the fact that she has an audience.

“Why were you fighting?” I ask.

“Because she put her hands on my boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?”

She raises her hand to look at her nails and begins to peel polish off her thumb. “I don’t remember.”

The urge to reach across the table, grab her by the collar, and slap that “I don’t give a shit” attitude off her face is powerful. Of course I don’t, since I’m pretty sure it would be considered unbecoming behavior for the chief of police.

I turn my attention to Kathleen McClanahan. “I suggest you encourage your daughter to cooperate.”

“Angi didn’t do nothing to that little Amish troublemaker. Whatever trouble Sadie Miller met with, she brought down on herself.”

“I need his name,” I say. “Right now.”

Tossing a sideways look at her mother, Angi crosses her arms over her chest. “Dave Westmoore.”

I write down the name, recalling that the parents live near Millersburg. “So you were angry because Sadie touched your boyfriend?”

“She was doing more than touching him. That slut had her hands all over him.”

“Jealousy is a powerful emotion.”

Something ugly flashes in the girl’s eyes. “I am not jealous of that bitch.”

“What would you call it?”

“Protecting my territory.”

“How far are you willing to go to protect what’s yours?”

She shoots me an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t do anything to her!”

“You threatened to kill her,” I say.

“I didn’t mean it literally.”

“Or maybe you planned a little revenge.”

Her mother lurches to her feet. “This is bullshit.”

I give the woman a hard look. “Sit down.”

When she does, I continue. “Your daughter was one of the last people to speak with Sadie before she disappeared. They had a physical confrontation. Angi threatened to kill her in front of witnesses, including me.”