He gives me his full attention. Curiosity flickers in his eyes. He’s wondering who I am and why I’m here. I tug out my identification and show it to him.

“Yeah, man, the Amish. They treat her like shit, and she was sick of all their self-righteous crap.”

“She told you that?” I ask.

“All the time. They’re always judging her, telling her what she can and can’t do. She has no freedom and can’t do shit without one of them pointing their holier-than-thou fingers.” That he’s speaking of her in the present tense doesn’t elude me. “I’m glad she finally got out. Good for her.”

“How close are you?” I ask.

“We’re friends. You know, tight.”

“Since you’re so tight, Justin, did it bother you that she left without saying good-bye?” I ask.

The kid surprises me by looking down, and I realize the question hit a raw spot he doesn’t want us to see. “It’s a free country. I always told her if she got the chance, she should take it.” He laughs. “I figured I’d be the one to go first.”

“Did she mention a destination?” Tomasetti asks.

He thinks about that a moment. “We used to talk about Florida. She hates the cold. Never even seen the ocean. But I can’t see her just picking up and going with no apartment. No job.”

“Her parents are worried,” I tell him.

“They shoulda treated her better,” he shoots back.

“We think she could be in trouble,” Goddard says.

His eyes narrow on the sheriff. “You mean like someone . . . hurting her?”

“That’s exactly what we mean.” Tomasetti stares hard at him. “Do you know anything about that?”

“What? You think I did something to her?”

“You ever lose your temper with her?” Tomasetti asks, pressing him. “Ever hit her?”

Trina Treece heaves her frame up off the sofa with the grace of a gymnast. “What kind of question is that?”

“The kind he has to answer.” But Tomasetti doesn’t take his eyes off the boy.

Justin holds his gaze. “I never touched her.”

“Did you buy her a cell phone?” Goddard asks.

“Her parents wouldn’t do it, so I did. Last I heard, that wasn’t against the law.”

“She use it?” I ask.

“Sure. We talk all the time.”

“When’s the last time you heard from her?” Tomasetti asks.

“I dunno. A couple days ago.”

“Have you tried to contact her in the last twenty-four hours?”

Justin nods. “Goes straight to voice mail.”

“Didn’t that seem strange?” Goddard asks. “Or worry you?”

“Hey, she’s like that. Independent, you know?” The teenager shrugs. “I figured she’d call me when she got to where she was going.”

Tomasetti pulls out his note pad. “What’s the number?”

Justin rattles it off from memory and Tomasetti writes it down.

“You got your cell on you?” he asks.