“This is Ezra and Bonnie Augspurger,” Glock begins.

It’s been fifteen years since I’ve seen or spoken to them, but I know the Augspurgers. As a child, I spent many a Sunday at their home with my parents for worship. I remember playing with their daughter, Ellen, and a brother by the name of Urie, who liked to make a game of pulling my kapp. He didn’t tattle when I pushed him into a pile of horse shit. The youngest Augspurger child, Mark, suffered with Ellis–van Creveld syndrome, a form of dwarfism found all too often in the Amish population. Of course, as a kid, all I knew was that Mark was short. But Ellen had once told me he had an extra toe and a hole in his heart. Looking at Ezra and Bonnie, I wonder if Little Markie is still alive.

I extend my hand first to Ezra. His eyes meet mine, and I see fear in their depths. I feel that same fear hammering on the door of my own psyche. I know why they’re here, and I know how this meeting will end.

“Ellen is missing.” Ezra’s voice shakes as he speaks in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“We heard about the murdered English girl and became worried,” Bonnie adds. “We want you to help us find Ellen.”

I think of the partially decomposed body lying on the gurney at the hospital morgue—the unadorned fingernails and toenails—and I’m filled with a sadness so profound that for a moment I can’t speak. I don’t want that woman to be Ellen, but I know it is. Guilt spreads through me because I didn’t recognize her. Though it’s been fifteen years since I saw her, I feel as if I should have known.

Before I realize it, I’m speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch. “How long has she been missing?”

Ezra looks away, but not before I discern the shame in his expression.

“Two and a half weeks.” Bonnie’s hands twist nervously.

I give Ezra a hard look. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“This was an Amish matter to be dealt with by us.”

The awful familiarity of the words make the hairs at my nape stand on end.

“We assumed she had run away,” Ezra says. “In the last few months, Ellen had become . . . difficult and rebellious.”

“She had told us she would be taking the bus to Columbus to see her cousin Ruth,” Bonnie says. “When she disappeared, we assumed that was where she had gone. Last night, we heard from Ruth. Ellen never arrived in Columbus.”

I want to take them to the police station where we can speak privately. There are too many people, too many cameras here. I glance down the hall and spy an open classroom door. “Let’s go where it’s quiet.”

Leaving the Augspurgers, I cross to Glock and Tomasetti. “Find a fax machine,” I say quietly. “Ask Mona to fax the best photo she can find of the second vic.”

When I pull back, both men’s eyes are filled with knowledge. They know where this is going. Glock turns and jogs toward the auditorium in search of a school official.