“Oh, dear Lord.” Alma covers her mouth with both hands and looks at me over the tops of her fingers. “Who would do such an evil thing?”

“Did you see or hear anything strange last night?” I ask.

Both heads shake, but it is William who speaks. “The Plank house is over a mile away. Sometimes we do not see them for days at a time.”

“When did you last see them?” Glock asks.

William shifts his attention to Glock, his brows knitting. “I saw Amos yesterday morning. I was repairing the fence, near the road. He was in the buggy and stopped to say hello.”

“How did he seem?” I ask.

“Fine. We talked about the corn harvest. He wanted me to butcher a hog for him. I told him I would pick out a fat one for them.”

“How did he seem to you? Normal? Nervous or upset?”

He shrugs. “He seemed the same as always.”

Alma wrings her hands. “Who did this terrible thing?”

“We don’t know.” I turn my attention to her. “Were either of you close to the Planks?”

William answers. “We see them at worship.”

“I quilted with Bonnie, Mary and Annie just last week,” Alma puts in.

As a teenager, I spent many an evening cutting, pinning and sewing fabric. Quilting is the perfect activity for female bonding—and an even better forum for gossip. “Did Bonnie or either of the girls mention any problems? Family problems? Money problems?”

“They mentioned no such thing,” Alma responds.

I look at William. He’s standing so close I can see the crumbs from his breakfast toast in his beard. He smells of pig shit and hot lard. “Do you know if they had any enemies?” I ask. “Anyone who might have been unhappy or angry with them?”

“They were good neighbors.” William shakes his head as if still reeling from news of their deaths. “A happy, generous family. I do not understand how this could happen.”

“Has anyone made any threats against them?” Glock asks.

Alma looks upset. I can’t tell if it’s from the news of her neighbors’ deaths or something else. “Everyone loved the Planks. They were very kind.”

“What about the kids?” I press. “Did any of them ever get into trouble?”

Alma shakes her head. “The children were well behaved. Even Mary, who was going through her rumspringa.”

Rumspringa is the “running around” period Amish teens go through when they turn sixteen or so. It’s their time to experience the world without the social constraints of the Plain life. Usually, that entails some drinking and generally harmless misbehaving; nothing excessive. It’s the period in which teens decide whether or not they want to be baptized. Most ultimately choose to join the church. I’m one of a small percentage who did not. But I had my reasons.