“Keep us posted.” Goddard nods. “And if the nature of this case ain’t bad enough, I think I got one more wrench to throw into the mix.” He directs his attention to the older deputy sitting across from me. “You remember old Red Gibbons?”

The deputy guffaws. “That sumbitch is kind of hard to forget.”

Laughter erupts from around the table. It seems everyone in the room is familiar with the aforementioned Red Gibbons.

Goddard directs his attention to Tomasetti and me. “Red was sheriff before me. One of the more colorful characters to grace the office.” He glances at the deputy. “He retired, what, about six years ago?”

The deputy nods. “Thereabouts.”

“Red’s been following the development of these cold cases.” All semblance of humor disappears. “He called me this morning and told me about another kid went missing nine years ago in Monongahela Falls. Dot on the map up near Painesville.

“Eigh teen-year-old Amish kid by the name of Noah Mast. I pulled the file. From all indications the kid walked away from the farm and no one heard from him again.”

“I remember the case,” another deputy says. “Everyone thought he was a runaway.”

“The fact that he’s a male stands out,” I put in.

“Was there a missing-person report filed?” Tomasetti asks.

“Eventually.” Goddard nods. “I’ll have copies made for everyone.”

“How far is Monongahela Falls?” I ask.

Goddard indicates the location on the map. “About fifty miles north.”

“An hour’s drive,” Tomasetti comments. “Not too far.”

We watch as Goddard turns to the whiteboard and writes “Noah Mast—nine years ago,” followed by a large question mark. He then circles a fourth location on the map: Monongahela Falls.

Tomasetti raises the next question. “Are any of the sex offenders on that list convicted of assaults on a male victim?”

“One.” Goddard writes a name in bold letters without looking at the list, telling me he’d already considered the angle. “Mike Campbell.” “Forty-two-year-old white male. One conviction sexual assault on a minor. Victim was a thirteen-year-old neighbor kid.”

“Probably worth a look,” the deputy says.

“What’s his location?” I ask, thinking of logistics.

“Sugar Bend.” The chief indicates the location on the map. “About forty-five minutes southeast of here.”

“Do any of these offenders have an Amish connection?” I ask.

Goddard writes another name on the board: “Stacy Karns.” “Karns is some big-shot photographer. Lives out on Doe Creek Road, by the lake. Forty-four-year-old black male. Originally from Toledo. Anyway, he did six months on a child pornography charge. Case file says he photographed a fourteen-year-old Amish girl in the nude. Happened in Geauga County. I guess he won all kinds of awards. Everyone thought it was fucking art.”

“Except her parents,” Tomasetti says.

Goddard smiles. “And the jury.”

“What about that cult over to Salt Lick?” the deputy asks.