“I’m getting to that.” Goddard turns to the whiteboard and writes another name: “Frank Gilfillan.” “Fifty-two-year-old white male. Clean record. Runs the Twelve Passages Church over in Salt Lick. They got about sixty followers now. Strange mix of people. Most are fanatical, and they’re big into recruiting. The reason this group is of interest is because Gilfillan doesn’t like the Amish. He’s outspoken about it and makes an effort to recruit their young. A couple of Amish teens have joined the Twelve Passages Church. Don’t know if any of that is related to our missing persons, but I thought it was worth a mention.”

I’m still thinking about the missing Amish boy. “Has anyone talked to Noah Mast’s parents recently?”

Goddard shakes his head. “I didn’t even think of the Mast disappearance until Red mentioned it. To tell you the truth, I’m not convinced it’s related, what with the time gap and his being a male. Won’t hurt if you want to run out there. They live in Monongahela Falls.”

“If I recall,” the deputy begins, “Perry Mast was some kind of Amish elder or deacon.”

Goddard returns his attention to the group, looking from person to person. “A missing-person report has been filed on King. All of these girls are categorized as “missing endangered” and Amber Alerts have been issued.” He nods at the trooper. “The state Highway Patrol has been notified. “Info has been entered into NCIC. I also put the call into A Child is Missing, so the ball is rolling.

“Assignments.” Goddard flips to the next page, then looks at the young deputy. “Lewis, I want you to talk to Mike Campbell. See if he’s got an alibi and then check it. If something doesn’t jibe, I want to know about it. And don’t break any heads. You got that?”

Laughter ripples around the table, but the humor is short-lived. Goddard looks at the officer from the local police department. “Dale, why don’t you guys recanvass the area where the King girl disappeared. Talk to the neighbors again and see if anyone saw anything. And walk those woods again to see if we missed anything.”

Goddard’s gaze lands on the older deputy. “Clyde, you want to come with me to talk to Gilfillan?”

The deputy pats his shirt pocket. “Got my holy water right here.”

Another round of laugher erupts.

The deputy named Clyde looks at me. “Fisher place isn’t too far from Karns’s.”

“We’re game if you want us to swing by,” Tomasetti offers.

Goddard and Clyde exchange cockeyed looks, as if they share some amusing secret. “Might not be a bad idea,” Goddard says.

The deputy chuckles. “Karns doesn’t have much respect for smalltown cops.” His gaze narrows on Tomasetti. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you kind of have that big-city look about you.”