I cruise by the phone booth Hoch used on my way to the Yoder place, but there’s no one there. The closer I get, the more convinced I become that there’s something wrong. I can’t imagine Hoch calling the police at four thirty in the morning unless there’s a problem. I’m also aware that Hoch, along with his half sister, both have a motive for murder.

The black trunks of naked apple trees blur by as I head toward the farm. I find my eyes combing the ditches on either side of the road, looking for a buggy or pedestrian—anything out of the norm. The fruit stand is closed up and dark, so I speed past and make a left into the lane. Slinging mud, gravel pinging in the wheel wells of the Explorer, I barrel toward the house. A hard stop, and I’m out of the vehicle and jogging toward the house.

Hoch’s wife, Hannah, comes through the door as I reach the steps. “Chief Burkholder?”

She’s still in her sleeping gown, but has thrown a shawl over her shoulders. Her damp hair tells me she’s already been outside.

“Hoch called the police department earlier,” I tell her. “Is everything all right?”

She blinks, and I can tell she’s struggling to hold back tears. “I can’t find him,” she blurts. “I woke up twenty minutes ago. I thought he’d gone out to the fruit stand, but he’s not there.”

“Did he take the buggy?”

“He harnessed the horse, but left the buggy in the barn.”

“He took it to the pay phone down the road,” I say, thinking aloud. “He must have come back.”

“Why would he leave at this hour to call the police?”

“Hannah, is it possible he couldn’t sleep and started his chores early? Or is there a place on the property he might go if he’s troubled and needs some time alone?”

She shakes her head. “I checked the shop and the fruit stand first thing, but he’s not at either place. I called out to him, but he didn’t answer. I even tried the dinner bell, in case he was out walking in the orchard. Chief Burkholder, he didn’t make coffee. He always makes coffee.”

“How was his frame of mind after I left last night? Was he upset or acting strangely?”

“He was … quiet. He gets that way when he’s restless.” She pauses, her face screwing up slightly. “Do you think that crazy woman who killed those men would go after Hoch, too?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.” But my own mind has already ventured into the same territory.

She nods, but I can plainly see by the way she’s shaking that she doesn’t believe me.

“When did you last see him?” I ask.

“Last night. At bedtime.”

“What time was that?”

“Eleven or so.”