“I found about a dozen.” He hands me a manila folder with several eight-by-ten photos inside. “They’re kind of shocking, Chief.”

I take the folder and open it. He’s right. The photos are not only shocking, but disturbing. Outrage rises inside me at the sight of a young woman clad in traditional Amish garb. Plain dress. Gauzy kapp. No makeup. She’s Caucasian. Brown hair peeks out from beneath the kapp. The photo is relatively good quality, but her face is turned so that I can’t make out her facial features. She may or may not be Amish; there’s no way to tell, but it feels like sacrilege.

The woman and two men are on an antique-looking steel bed. I see rumpled white sheets. A windowless, white-walled room. Shadows raining down, giving the photo the stark ambience of an old film. The woman straddles a white male, who’s lying on his back. He’s in his late twenties or early thirties. Dark brown hair. Goatee. His head is angled so that I can’t see his face. A second white male is grasping her hips and pumping into the woman from behind. Again, his face is turned. He’s larger with a heavily muscled body. A weight lifter, probably. More body hair. Sideburns. No beard. No visible birthmarks.

I’m no prude, but this staggers me. I stare at the young woman’s profile. Her head is thrown back as if in ecstasy. Her dress is open in the front and her tiny breasts are bared. I can’t tell if it’s Mary Plank. She has pretty skin and a girlish figure. She looks very young. So skinny I can see her ribs. But she still has the chubby hands of a child.

I try to take in the details with the unaffected eye of a cop, but I can feel the pound of outrage in my ears. The burn of embarrassment on my cheeks. A depth of sadness in my heart that surprises me.

“Is it her?” T.J.’s words snap me from my momentary fugue.

“Hard to tell.”

“They kept their faces angled away from the camera the duration of the video.”

“I can see why they don’t want people recognizing them. This is pretty raw stuff.” I glance at the folder in my hand. I don’t want to look at the other photos, but I don’t have a choice. “Get the domains and IP addresses to Tomasetti. Get BCI to run down the owners of the sites.”

“Sure.”

“In the interim, why don’t you cruise out to whoisit.com and see if you can come up with contact information or names.”

“Probably a long shot.”

“We might get lucky.”