I volunteered to stock candies this morning. Not for the money, but because if I work over six hours, I get a lunch break. I can go to the park, and I know he will be there. I feel terribly guilty for that. I know my feelings are wrong. Against the will of my parents. Maybe against God’s will, too. But I wonder . . . how can something that feels so wonderful be bad?

I stare down at the words, aware of my heart drumming against my breast-bone. Who is he? The father of her unborn child? Does she reveal anything about him at some later point in the journal? Realizing I need to take it with me and read it from cover to cover, I rise and scoot the bed back into place. I’m midway to the door when my cell phone trills.

“Chief, it’s Glock.”

“How’s the canvassing going?”

“We finished half an hour ago. I wanted to let you know Dick Flatter and his wife remember seeing a truck they didn’t recognize out on Township Road 16 last night.”

Township Road 16 is a dirt track that runs along the north side of the Plank farm. “What kind of truck?”

“He couldn’t recall. Said it was dark in color. Didn’t know the make. He remembered it because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t belong to any of the neighbors.”

“A make would have been nice.”

“That would make our jobs way too easy.” He pauses. “You want me to give BCI a call and ask for a list of dark pickup trucks registered in Holmes and Coshocton counties?”

“I’ll call them.”

“Anything new on your end?”

I tell him about the Mary Plank’s pregnancy.

“That’s a stunner. I mean, she was Amish and pretty young.”

My own past flashes in the periphery of my mind, but I shove it aside. “Unusual, but not unheard of. Get this: she had live sperm inside her body.”

“So we have DNA?”

“Going to take a few days. The BCI lab has to run it through CODIS. If our guy is a past offender, we’ll have a name.”

“If he doesn’t have a record, we’re fucked.”

I look at the journal in my hand. “I was looking around out here and found a journal in the girl’s room.”

“A journal? Like a diary? Whose is it?”

“It’s Mary’s. She’s at that age. You know, wants to write everything down.”

“Never went through that stage.”

“Might be a girl thing.” I sigh. “I’m going to take it home and see if she names a boyfriend.”

“The pregnancy kind of changes things, doesn’t it? Guy doesn’t want a kid, so he offs his girlfriend.”

“I think there’s more to it, Glock. Not enough motive there to slaughter an entire family. And it doesn’t explain the torture.”