His brows go together, as if he’s faced with a difficult math equation. After a moment, he perks up. “His hair is like Sam’s!” he blurts out.

“Sam?” I look at Alma.

“Sam is one of our horses,” Alma explains. “He’s brown.”

Nodding, I turn my attention back to Billy. “Was the man big or small?”

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“Pants?”

I smile. “Do you remember what color they were?”

Another vigorous shake.

“What about his age? Was he old? Or young?”

“I dunno.”

“What color were his eyes?” I ask. “Were they brown like Officer Maddox’s? Green, like mine? Or blue, like your datt’s?”

His face screws up for a moment, then he shakes his head. “I dunno. I din look.”

I’m no expert on interrogating children. Even less so a special child like Billy. But he’s my only witness. In order to solve this case, I need the information locked inside his head. In the back of my mind, I’ve already decided to call Tomasetti and request a sketch artist.

I move on to the tougher stuff. “What did you see that night when you looked in the window?”

For the first time, Billy looks scared. He shakes his head from side to side, like a dog shaking water from its coat after a bath.

“Did you see Mary?” I ask.

“No.”

“Who did you see?”

“The Englischers.”

“What were they doing?”

The boy’s brows knit. His mouth scrunches, a child faced with an unpleasant food. “Bad things.”

“What did they do, Billy?”

“They made Mary’s mamm cry.”

I tamp down impatience. “How did they make her mamm cry? What did they do?”

“The Strawberry Man put Mr. Plank to sleep.”

“Put him to sleep?”

“The way datt puts the hogs to sleep for sausage.”

I look at William, but I know where this is going. With the exception of dairy cattle, the Amish butcher their livestock for meat.

The Amish man presses his fingertips against the bridge of his nose, then heaves a sigh.

“What do you do to the hogs, Mr. Zook?” Glock asks.

Zook shifts his attention to Glock. He looks shell-shocked. “I shoot them before I butcher them. It is more humane that way.”

I return my attention to Billy. “What did you do after you saw them put Mr. Plank to sleep?”

“I don’t like that part,” the boy says. “So I ran home.”

Something clicks in my mind, and I find myself thinking of the night I chased the yet unidentified intruder into the cornfield. “Did you go back the next day to check on Mary?”

The boy looks down at the floor, jerks his head. “She wasn’t there.”

“Who did you see?”

He draws a circle on the floor with the toe of his boot. “Are you gonna get mad?”

“No. I promise.”

“I saw you.”