Blue Branson has as good a poker face as anyone I’ve ever met. But he can’t conceal his shock. He stares at me, unblinking, his mouth partially open, wondering how I could possibly know.

“She survived,” I tell him.

He drops his gaze to the tabletop, his eyes darting, landing on nothing, like a trapped animal about to take some fatal leap to avoid being ripped to shreds by a much larger predator.

“I know you were at the Hochstetler farm the night Willis Hochstetler was killed. I know you and your friends kidnapped Wanetta Hochstetler. I know you took her across the state line into Pennsylvania.”

Blue looks up, his gaze digging into mine. I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t ask for his lawyer again, because that would bring the interview—and any progress on the case—to a screeching halt.

“She tell you that?” he asks after a moment.

I’m under no obligation to inform him that Wanetta Hochstetler died two months ago. I don’t reveal that bit of information, because I know keeping him in the dark will work to my advantage. “I know what you did, Blue. I know what all of you did. You’re going to be charged, and the only thing that can help you now is cooperation. Do you understand?”

Blue studies the tabletop. Beneath his goatee, I see the muscles in his jaws working. After a full two minutes of silence, he raises his eyes to mine. “Is that woman the one who killed them?”

“That woman?” I say. “You mean Wanetta Hochstetler, don’t you?” I’m humanizing her, hoping to guilt him into cooperating. “She was a young Amish mother with five children and a husband. A religious woman who loved God. She loved her children. She loved her life. You took all of that away from her.”

He looks away, but not before I see a flash of anguish in his eyes. He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the memory, of any culpability. “She’d be old by now. Sixty or seventy. How could she kill three people? Men twice her size?”

I don’t answer his question. For the span of several minutes, no one speaks. I let the silence ride, hoping it will rattle him. But I know Blue Branson is not easily shaken. I know he’s not going to volunteer information without coercion.