“That could tie in. Annie King had an English boyfriend. Bonnie Fisher was pregnant, had multiple partners, and was considering an abortion.”

“That’s enough to piss off any self-respecting religious fanatic.” Tomasetti’s tone is bone-dry.

“So we keep everyone with ties to The Twelve Passages Church on our list of suspects.”

We concentrate on our food for a couple of minutes. Tomasetti finishes the last of his Killian’s. I look down at my plate, drag a fry through catsup, running everything we know about the case so far through my head.

“Do you think Noah Mast’s disappearance is related?” Tomasetti asks after a moment.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “According to Stoltzfus, he talked about leaving.” I think of the place setting for him in the Mast kitchen. “You’re checking into other missing-person cases? Cold cases?”

He nods. “If there’s something else out there, VICAP will kick it out.”

“If it’s been reported.”

He gives me a sharp look. “Do you think Amish parents might not file a missing-person report if one of their kids went missing?”

“Most would,” I tell him. “Initially, they might try to handle it themselves. But I think eventually, when they got scared and the reality of the situation sank in, they’d turn to the police.” I think about that for a moment. “That said, there’s a large faction of Amish who believe God will take care of them. If you combine that with a general mistrust of the English, particularly the English police, then I could see a family not making an official report.”

“Something to keep in mind.”

I nod, move on to other possible scenarios. “What about the photographer Goddard mentioned?”

“Stacy Karns.”

“That conviction and the fact that his victim was a young Amish female definitely puts him on the list.” I glance at my watch. “We could pay him a visit.”

“I think he’ll keep until morning.” He gazes steadily at me. “You look tired, Kate. Have you had any sleep?”

“Not much.”

He lays a couple of bills on the table. “What do you say we call it a night and check out the Buck Snort Motel?”

The Buck Snort Motel is located on the main highway two miles outside Buck Creek. Set back from the road in a heavily wooded area, the motel is comprised of a dozen or so cabins replete with picnic tables and a community pit barbecue. Lights burn in two of the cabins. As we pull into the gravel lot, I see a group of kids sitting at one of the picnic tables. The motel office is a larger cabin with a huge front window and the requisite red neon sign that blinks VACANCY. A smaller sign boasts FREE MOVIES.

Tomasetti parks adjacent the office and kills the engine. “I’ll check us in and grab the keys.”