The Amish man put his hands up. Even from ten feet away Skid could see his entire body was trembling. His chest heaved. It was tears—not sweat—that glistened on his cheeks. “What’s your name?” Skid asked.

“Reuben Zimmerman!” he choked.

The Amish man’s eyes met his. Within their depths, Skid saw fear and the sharp edge of panic. The man’s mouth worked, but no words came.

“You need to calm down, sir. Tell me what happened.”

Zimmerman pointed toward the farmhouse, his hand shaking like a flag in a gale. “Amos Plank. The children. There is blood. They are dead!”

The guy had to be out of his mind. “How many people?”

“I do not know. I saw . . . Amos and the boys. On the floor. Dead. I ran.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No.”

Skid’s gaze went to the darkened farmhouse. The place was silent and still. No lantern light in the windows. No movement. He hit his lapel mike. “Mona, I’ve got a possible 10-16 out here.” A 10-16 was the code for a domestic problem. “I’m going to take a look.”

“You still out at the Plank place?”

“That’s affirm.”

“You want me to call the sheriff’s office and get a deputy out there?”

“I’m going to check it out first. Will you run Reuben Zimmerman through LEADS for me?” LEADS was the acronym for the Law Enforcement Automated Data System police departments used to check for outstanding warrants.

“Roger that.” Computer keys clicked. “Be careful, will you?”

“You got that right.”

Anxious to get to the scene, Skid approached the Amish man. “Turn around and put your hands against the car, partner.”

Zimmerman looked bewildered. “I did not do anything wrong.”

“It’s procedure. I’m going to pat you down. The handcuffs are for your protection and mine. All right?”

As if realizing he didn’t have a choice, Zimmerman turned and set his hands against the cruiser. Quickly, Skid ran his hands over the man, checking pockets, socks, even his crotch. Then he snapped the cuffs into place. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

“I help with the milking. Work begins at four A.M.”

“And I thought I had bad hours.”

The Amish man blinked.

“Never mind.” Opening the cruiser door, Skid ushered him into the backseat. “Let’s go.”