Plank’s eyes go from me to Tomasetti, who is standing slightly behind me. He makes no move to open the door. “This is kind of a bad time.”

“I understand,” I say. “But we only need a few minutes.”

His gaze flicks sideways. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“So are we,” Tomasetti cuts in. “A murder case. Now open the door and talk to us.”

Aaron’s mouth tightens into a thin, hard line. The door swings open as if by its own accord. Stepping back, he tugs at the belt of his robe. “I would have come down to the station.”

“I’m afraid this won’t wait.” I step into the kitchen. The aromas of candle wax and coffee mingles with the fresh air gusting through the window. I see a high-tech coffeemaker on the counter. Dishes draining in the sink. A bottle of wine and two stemmed glasses sit on the counter. That’s when I realize Aaron isn’t alone, and I get a prickly sensation at the back of my neck. The kind you get when you know someone is watching and you don’t know who or why. There were no other cars in the driveway, but I know he’s got company.

“Who’s here with you?”

Leave it to Tomasetti to cut to the chase. Listening, I cross to the living room. A dozen candles sit on the table, their tiny flames flickering in the breeze. Classical guitar streams from a cool little sound system on the floor.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Both Tomasetti and I look up to see a dark-haired young man trotting down the stairs. He’s got eyes the color of whiskey and just enough scruff of a beard to look en vogue. I know even before he introduces himself that the man is Aaron Plank’s lover.

“I’m Rob Lane.” Crossing to us, he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you. I just wish it were under different circumstances.”

Tomasetti shakes the man’s hand and introduces himself.

I step forward and do the same. “We spoke on the phone,” I say.

“Of course.” Rob’s expression turns appropriately sober. “I couldn’t believe it when Aaron told me what happened to his family, especially with their being Amish and in a town this size.”

“You didn’t mention you would be traveling to Painters Mill,” I say.

“I hadn’t planned to at the time.” He grimaces. “But Aaron’s been understandably upset. He asked me to fly out for the weekend.”

I spot Aaron in the kitchen, pouring red wine into two glasses and start toward him. “Is there some place we can talk?” I ask him. “Alone?”

Frowning at me, he brushes past and hands Rob one of the glasses. “Anything you have to say, you can say in front of Rob.”