In the back of my mind I know there’s no such thing as the perfect murder. Somewhere, someone left something behind. However small or seemingly inconsequential, it’s my job to find it. I owe that to the Plank family. I owe it to this town and the people I’ve sworn to serve and protect. Most of all, I owe it to myself.

Seventeen years ago, I didn’t get justice for a crime committed against me. But I’m a cop now. It’s within my power to see this through, and get justice for another young Amish girl who can’t do it herself.

The sun isn’t quite above the horizon when I pull into my parking space at the station the next morning. Beside me, Mona’s Ford Escort is covered with a diamond layer of frost. T.J.’s cruiser is parked farther down, and I know he’s come in early to finish up his Internet assignment before he goes on patrol.

Mona sits at the switchboard-dispatch station with her feet on the desk, a lollipop in her mouth and a college text open in front of her. Her feet slide off the desk the instant she sees me walk in. “Hey, Chief.”

“You look busy.”

She grins. “It’s been kinda quiet.”

“That’s the way we like it.”

T.J. peeks at me over the top of his cubicle. “You got a sec?”

I enter his cube to see he has both his desktop and a laptop computer running. A printer I’ve never seen before hums from atop a two-drawer file cabinet, and I realize he brought it from home. “Find anything interesting?”

Looking uncomfortable, T.J. slides behind his computer. “I hit a few uh . . . porn sites last night and this morning. I’ll tell you, there’s some weird shit out there.”

“Like murder weird or sex weird?”

“Both.” He face reddens. “We’re talking fetishes.”

“Violence?”

“Foot fetishes, mostly.”

“That is weird.”

He taps a couple of keys on the desktop keyboard. “We have man on man. Woman on woman. Animal on woman.” He looks at me. “You ever seen the size of a—”

“Just case stuff, T.J.,” I cut in before he can finish.

“Oh. Right.” Rolling his chair to the laptop, he types in a login and password. “I searched for anything Amish, and I was blown away by the number of porn Web sites into that sort of thing.”

“To each their own,” I mutter.

“I guess.” He hands me a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of Web sites with IP addresses. I bought photo paper and printed some of the . . . uh . . . images. A lot of the female . . . uh . . . perpetrators don’t match Mary Plank’s description, but I went ahead and printed the ones that were even close. A lot of the . . . actors wear wigs and try to conceal their identity.”

“Let’s take a look.”