“There’s a surprise for you.” Sighing, the sheriff looks down at his notes. “We now have a crime scene, which is being processed now by a CSU from the state. We also have the King girl’s cell phone number. Agent Tomasetti is working on gaining access to phone records and getting a triangulation going.”

Goddard looks at Tomasetti. “Any idea how long that’ll take?”

“We should know something tomorrow.”

“Keep us posted.”

No one mentions the possibility that Annie King might not have that kind of time.

I catch Goddard’s eye. “Do you have an address for the other families? I’d like to speak with the parents.”

“Got the Fishers’ address right here.” He leans down and hands a sheet of paper to one of the deputies, who passes it to me. I glance at the type; it contains an address for Fisher’s Branch Creek Joinery in Rocky Fork.

“What were the circumstances of Bonnie Fisher’s disappearance?” I ask.

He looks down at his notes. “Took her bicycle to work one morning at the joinery the family runs, but she never made it there. Bicycle was found a mile from the house.

I nod. “What about the Stuckey family?”

The chief grimaces. “They were killed in a buggy accident a couple of months ago.”

“They have kids?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No one survived the accident.”

Disappointment presses into me with insistent fingers. When someone goes missing, the family is almost always the best source of information. That’s particularly true if the missing person is Amish, because most are so family-oriented. Of course, Goddard will have copies of interviews, but nothing contained in the file will be as helpful as a one-on-one with the family.

As if sensing my frustration, he adds, “I’ll get you copies of everything, Chief Burkholder.”

I nod my thanks, hoping the investigating department was thorough.

“Persons of interest.” Goddard recaps our meeting with Justin Treece. “We don’t have anything solid on this kid, but as most of you know, he’s got a violent temper and didn’t have any qualms about beating the hell out of his own mother.”

He gestures toward the papers stacked in front of each of us. “Julie pulled a list of registered sex offenders for Trumbull County. We got sixty-eight perverts in the county. She broke it down by the ages of the victims. That narrows it down to twenty-nine offenders, which is a starting point.”

“Damn big starting point,” one of the deputies says.

Tomasetti speaks up. “I’m running some VICAP queries to see if there are other cold cases that might be related.” He scratches a note on the pad in front of him. “I started with the northeastern part of the state and will fan out from there.”