“What did the Englischers say?” I ask gently.

The Masts exchange a look, and an uncomfortable silence falls. We let it ride, giving them some time.

“There were rumors.” Perry grimaces. “And not just among the English. Some of the Amish young people . . . knew things.”

“Idle gossip.” His wife sends him a sharp look. “All of it.”

Tomasetti trains his attention on Perry. “Like what?”

The Amish man stares into his coffee. “There is a man. Gideon Stoltzfus. He used to be plain, but he could not abide by the Ordnung and was put under the bann. I’ve heard he helps young Amish men leave the plain life.”

“He is a Mennischt.” Irene spits the word for Mennonite as if it has a bad taste.

“After Noah disappeared, we found out he’d been in touch with Stoltzfus.” Perry blows on his coffee and slurps. I see blood under his fingernails, cookie crumbs in his beard, and I look away. “We believe Gideon may have filled Noah’s young mind with untruths about the Amish.”

“The Mennonites recruit,” Irene says.

Being formerly Amish myself, I know men like Stoltzfus exist. There’s a man in Painters Mill who helps young Amish leave the lifestyle. He runs a sort of Underground Railroad, giving them a place to stay while they transition. Contrary to what the Masts believe, these men are not the brainwashing monsters they’re made out to be, but a bridge to an alternative lifestyle. But if Noah met with Stoltzfus, it wasn’t in the file.

“Do you think Stoltzfus helped Noah leave?” I ask.

“I don’t know what to believe.” Taking a final sip of his coffee, Perry gets to his feet. “I need to get back to work.”

Tomasetti and I rise simultaneously. Neither of us touched the cookies or coffee.

“Thank you both for your time,” I say.

Without speaking, Perry, Tomasetti, and I start toward the door. I’m keenly aware of the silence in the house, broken only by the clink of dishes as Irene clears the table and the hollow thud of our boots on the floor, and I can’t help but think that this is a very lonely house.

We’re midway through the mudroom when Irene calls out, “If you find our Noah, you’ll bring him back to us, ja?”

Perry continues toward the door, not even acknowledging her. Tomasetti and I stop and turn. “If we learn anything new, you’ll be the first to know,” I tell her, and we step into the night.

Tomasetti and I are midway down the lane before speaking. “What do you think?” he asks as he turns onto the highway that will take us to Buck Creek.

“Kid’s been gone nine years and they still set the table for him.” I sigh. “That’s one sad, lonely couple.”

“Losing a kid . . .” He grimaces. “Fucks up your life.”