Footsteps on the stairs snag my attention. I look over to see two young boys wrestle down the steps. They notice Glock and me, and freeze, giving us dual deer-in-headlights looks.

“No roughhousing inside,” William scolds.

His wife gives me a weak smile. “Our boys, Billy and Isaac.”

“Do you mind if I ask them a couple of questions?” I know sometimes kids see things, know things parents do not.

For an instant, Alma looks alarmed, and I realize my being formerly Amish only goes so far when it comes to bridging gaps.

William calls the boys over and addresses them. “Billy. Isaac. Chief Burkholder would like to ask you a few questions.”

I almost smile when both boys’ eyes widen. “Just a couple of easy ones,” I say in an attempt to put them at ease.

Both boys have thick blond hair blunt cut above their brows. Isaac is younger and looks at me as if I’m about to drag him off to prison for the rest of his life. Billy appears to be about fourteen or fifteen. But there’s a childlike innocence in his expression that belies his age.

I offer my friendliest smile. “How old are you guys?”

“I’m eleven,” Isaac says, his chest puffing out a little.

“That’s pretty old.” I smile, but my attempt at juvenile humor falls flat. I turn my attention to Billy. “How about you?”

“He’s fifteen.” Isaac answers for his brother.

“Did either of you happen to see anything strange over at the Plank farm the last few days?”

“What do you mean by strange?” Isaac asks.

I shrug, noticing the younger boy is much more articulate than his older brother. “Any English cars? Or maybe a buggy you didn’t recognize? Strangers visiting? Anything like that?”

“No.”

“Did you hear anything?” Glock asks. “Unusual sounds? Shouting? Crying?”

“No.” Isaac looks toward his parents for direction. “Did something happen to the Planks?”

“I saw Mary’s underwear!” Billy blurts the words, then slaps his hand over his mouth, his cheeks reddening.

The odd comment garners everyone’s attention. Only then do I realize that while Billy is older than Isaac, his mentality is that of a much younger boy. I discern a slight speech impediment. He rounds his Rs and skipped pronunciation of the D altogether. The incidence of mental retardation is slightly higher among the Amish in comparison to the general population. There are several theories on the cause, the most prevalent being the small size of the gene pool. The majority of Amish do not marry outsiders; very few non-Amish join the Plain life. The gene pool has been closed for about twelve generations.

“When did you see her, Billy?” I ask.

“I dunno.” When he looks up at me, I notice he suffers with strabismus, or crossed eyes. “One day. It was sunny. She was pretty.”

“Did you see any strangers?” I ask.

“No strangers.”