I enter to find both my day- and night-shift dispatchers at the window that faces the street. Lois Monroe is about fifty years old with pretty blue eyes and a disposition as prickly as her overprocessed hair. She might look like someone’s mom, but I’ve seen her put more than one cocky young cop in his place. Mona Kurtz, on the other hand, is twenty-four going on sixteen with a head full of wild red ringlets and a personality that matches her hair to a T. Working on an associate’s degree in criminology, she’s totally enamored with all facets of law enforcement—and doesn’t mind working third shift. Neither woman is perfect, but they keep the police station up and running.

Mona is kneeling at the window, braced, with her hands on the sill, straining to open it. Lois is using the heel of her practical shoe to tap on the seal, trying to break it loose.

“I’m afraid to ask what you’re doing,” I say as I pass the dispatch station.

Both women turn at the sound of my voice.

“Oh, hey, Chief.” Mona grins. “We’re trying to get the window open.”

“It’s hot in here,” Lois adds.

“She’s having another hot flash.”

Lois wipes her forehead. “If I don’t get cooled off I’m going to have to call the fire department.”

I steer clear of the hot flash comment. “You look like a couple of inmates trying to break out of jail.” Reaching over the top of the desk, I grab messages from my slot. “Mona, did you hear back from Lancaster County?”

She crosses to me, and I try not to notice the black tights, red miniskirt and little black boots. “The sheriff’s office checked the names over the phone and sent a couple of deputies to some of the Amish farms. I haven’t heard back.”

“Call them again. The Planks have got to have relatives somewhere.” Notifying NOK is one of the most difficult aspects of my job. There’s nothing I’d hate more than for someone to find out about a family member’s death from the six o’clock news.

“Any media inquiries?” I ask.

“Steve Ressler,” Mona replies. “Channel eighty-two in Columbus. Radio station in Wooster. The usual suspects.”

Lois sighs. “I swear the gossips in this town are the best informed people in the world. Everyone’s got everyone else on speed dial.”

“Text messaging.” Sliding behind her desk, Mona pulls the headset over her head. “It’s faster.”

“Our official response is ‘no comment,’ ” I tell them.

Mona puts her hand over the mouthpiece of her headset. “What’s your unofficial response?”

“We don’t know shit.”

She gives me a smile.

“I’ll have a press release ready this afternoon.” I turn my attention to Lois. “Glock’ll get that window for you.”