Using surgical-grade scissors, the coroner cuts the duct tape and peels it away. I work an evidence bag from my belt and hold it out. He drops the length of tape into the bag.

McCullough’s mouth is open. I see blue lips and yellowed teeth. A small dark object at the back of his throat. “There’s something in his mouth,” I say.

“Some kind of foreign object.” The doc looks over his shoulder at the technician. “Hand me those pliers.”

The technician passes the instrument to the doc. We watch in silence as the doc inserts the pincers and pulls out the Amish peg doll. “Just like the others,” he says.

From behind me, Skid hands him another evidence bag and the doc drops it inside.

I hand the camera to Skid. “Get some photos of that, will you?”

“Yep.”

The doc continues with his preliminary exam. “No irregularities in the clothing,” he says.

Steeling myself against the ghastliness of the body, I kneel for a closer look. “Wrists are scored.”

“At some point, he was conscious and struggled,” the doc says. “From the looks of that bruising and the abrasions, probably for quite some time.”

I look toward the deck and try not to imagine the panic and terror Jerrold McCullough endured before his death. The killer had crippled him. Bound him. Gagged with the peg doll stuffed into his throat. Then he’d tied him to the pier, struggling, until the rising water had drowned him.

“This was personal,” I say to no one in particular. “Someone wanted him to suffer.”

“I’d say they succeeded,” the doc mutters.

I make eye contact with Skid and we move away from the doc and firefighters. Out of earshot, I tell him, “I want you to pick up Blue Branson for questioning.”

“You think he did this?” he asks.

“I honestly don’t know. But I want you to pick him up. Sweat him a little. See what oozes out.”

He nods. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to pick up Norm Johnston.”

I leave Skid standing on the muddy bank with his mouth open.

*   *   *

I sit in the Explorer for several minutes, shaking with cold, heat blasting, trying to decide how to handle Johnston. The optimism I felt earlier has been depleted by the things I’ve seen and the knowledge that this killer isn’t going to stop—until someone stops him. If my theory is correct, and these murders are related to the Hochstetler case, Blue Branson and Norm Johnston—perhaps even Hoch Yoder and his wife—are in danger.

Or else one of them is a murderer.