As inconspicuously as possible, I pull out my notepad. "How old are they?"

"David is our youngest. He's three." She chokes out a laugh. "I think you met him when you came to the door. He's shy with strangers, especially the Englischers, you know. Annie is the oldest." Her voice falters, but she takes a moment, gathers herself. "She's fifteen.... Lydia is thirteen...." She lets her words trail off, as if there are too many children to name. "They're worried about their sister."

"When did you realize Annie was missing?" I ask.

The woman casts a glance at her husband, then looks down at her hands. They're red and chapped, the nails bitten to the quick. "Yesterday afternoon. We sent her out for corn and tomatoes. She gets restless, you know. She's at that age."

"What time was that?"

"Before supper." She glances absently at the antique mantel clock on a shelf by the door. "Two o'clock, I think."

"Was she on foot?"

"Yes. She enjoys the walking."

"When did you become worried?"

She looks at her husband, as if the answer is too much for her to bear, and he answers for her. "We began to worry when she didn't make it home in time for the before-meal prayer," he says.

"That Annie likes to eat." Edna's laugh comes out sounding more like a sob.

"What did you do?" Tomasetti asks.

"I went looking for her, of course," Levi responds.

"Alone?"

"My son and I took the buggy." Levi sighs and shakes his head. "We took the route she would have taken, but there was no sign of her. We talked to Amos Yoder at the vegetable stand, and he said she had been there earlier and she seemed fine."

I look at G.o.ddard. "Is the place where we found the satchel between here and the vegetable stand?"

G.o.ddard shakes his head. "No."

No one says it, but that means Annie either took a different route home or got into a vehicle with someone. "What did you do next?" I ask Levi.

"I took the buggy to the bishop's house. He has a phone. We put together a search party." A sigh slides between his lips, as if he's staving off an emotion he can't afford to feel. "All of the able-bodied men and boys came out to help-some on horseback, some in buggies. Our English neighbors helped in their cars."

"Why did you wait so long before calling the police?" G.o.ddard asks gently.

"The Ordnung forbids our a.s.sociating..." His words trail off. It's as if he realizes a missing child is the one time when there's no place for sectarian beliefs. "I thought we would find her before now." The words come out in a harsh whisper. "If I had done over..."

G.o.ddard nods understandingly.

"She didn't have anything to eat last night." Edna's voice is barely discernible. "She didn't have a bed to sleep in."

I choose my next words carefully. "Mrs. King, you mentioned Annie gets restless. Is there a possibility she didn't come home on purpose? Maybe there was an argument? Or she was upset about something?"

Levi shakes his head adamantly. "No. She is a good girl. She would not worry us over something like that."

Edna remains silent, not responding. Not even with a shake of her head. There are times when silence has a voice all its own. I mentally file the information away for later, wondering if she's privy to something her husband is not. Sometimes daughters confide in their mothers....

"Have you had any problems with Annie?" I ask gently. "Has she broken the rules? Has she seemed unhappy about anything recently?"

The look that pa.s.ses between them is so subtle, I almost miss it. But I know there's something there, some sc.r.a.p of information they don't want to reveal. "We're not here to judge you," I tell them. "Or her."

"We just want to find your daughter," Tomasetti adds.

When neither of them speaks, I continue. "Look, I know that sometimes teenagers make mistakes. Even Amish teenagers." I feel Tomasetti and G.o.ddard watching me, but I don't look away from Edna. "Even good girls," I finish in Pennsylvania Dutch, purposefully excluding the two men.

After a moment, Levi nods. "Annie is very strong-willed."

"She's a good girl," Edna says quickly.

An alarm sounds in the back of my brain. Maybe it's because I know that when parents feel the need to emphasize the goodness of their children, there's usually a reason. Like maybe the kid isn't quite as well-behaved as they'd like everyone to believe, and as they desperately want to believe themselves.

After a moment, Edna lowers her face into shaking hands. "She is a good girl."

The last thing I want to do is alienate them; at the moment, they are our best source of information. But I know if I don't push, I won't get what I need, and that is the truth-all of it.

I let the silence ride, giving them some time; then I return my attention to Edna. "Have you spoken to Annie's friends?"

Edna raises her head. "She keeps to herself mostly."

"Does she have a best friend?" I press her, knowing that whether you're Amish or English, if you're a teenage girl, you have a confidante.

Edna perks up. "She's been friendly with the Stutz girl. They went to a singing last week after worship. Amy is her name."

I write down the name and turn my attention to the sheriff. "Do you know where the Stutz family lives?"

He nods. "Just down the road."

I go back to Edna. "Is there anything else you can think of that might help us find her?"

When the woman looks away, I turn my attention to Levi. The Amish man stares down at the tabletop. He knows something, too; I see it in the slump of his shoulders, the cord of tension in his neck. I'm sure Tomasetti and G.o.ddard sense it as well, and the only thing we can do at this point is wait them out and hope they open up.

For a full minute, the only sounds come from the hiss of the lantern's wick and the ticking of the mantel clock on the shelf. Then Levi raises his gaze to mine. "She has been a.s.sociating with some Englischers."

Edna jerks her head his way. "Levi..."

"What are their names?" I ask quickly.

"We do not know."

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

The Amish couple exchange a look I recognize. A look I've seen before. One I understand all too well. One I saw in the eyes of my own parents. Shame. The need to secrete away the sins of their child. I know this because I was once that sinful child. This is the question they've been avoiding. The answer is one they don't want to divulge. A reality they don't want to acknowledge. Not even between them. Certainly not to us outsiders. But I also know it's the reason we've been invited into this Amish home.

Levi tightens his lips as if against words he doesn't want to utter. "We think the English boy was courting her."

"Did Annie tell you that?"

The Amish man shakes his head. "Dan Beiler saw them together in town."

"Do you know the boy's name?"

"No." He looks everywhere except into my eyes. "He has a car. She disappears sometimes and will not tell us where she's been."

"Do you know what kind of car?"

"We don't know," Levi spits out.

"She will not speak of him to us," Edna says, choking out the words.

"We forbade her to speak to the Englischers," Levi says. "She would not listen."

"Our Annie thinks she knows her mind." Edna's voice cracks on the last word. "When she wants something, there is no stopping her."

"But her faith is strong," Levi adds. "She loves her family. She is kind and submits to G.o.d."

I know that sometimes even the faithful find themselves face-to-face with the devil.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. King. You've been very helpful." I shake hands with both of them. "We're going to do our best to find your daughter."

Tomasetti, G.o.ddard, and I stand as a single unit. As we start toward the door, I mentally add Amy Stutz to my list of possible sources of information. But the person I most want to speak with is the boyfriend. Any cop worth his weight knows that when a female goes missing, the first suspect is always the man who claims to love her.

Ten minutes later, G.o.ddard, Tomasetti, and I are standing on the front porch of the Stutz house. G.o.ddard has knocked twice, but no one has answered the door. "We're batting zero," he says with a sigh.

Tomasetti peers through the window as if expecting to discover someone lurking behind the shades. "I thought the Amish spent their evenings at home," he growls. "Early to bed and all that bulls.h.i.t."

G.o.ddard looks to me, the resident Amish expert. "Any idea where they might be?"

"Visiting a neighbor, maybe." I look around, taking in the long shadows of late afternoon.

"We could wait," G.o.ddard suggests. "See if they show."

"We need the name of the boyfriend," Tomasetti mutters.

I drift to the porch rail and look out across the pasture, where eight Jersey cows and two young horses graze the lush gra.s.s. A thin layer of fog hovers in the low-lying areas. Twilight birds and crickets mingle with a cacophony of bullfrogs from the pond, where a profusion of cattails flourish. How many times growing up did I lie in my bed at night with the window open and listen to these very same sounds? How many times did I wonder what the world was like beyond the confines of the farm? I feel the memories pushing at the gate. But I don't open it.

G.o.ddard clears his throat. "Let's grab a bite to eat and come back."

"Sounds like a plan," Tomasetti says.

And then we're back in the Tahoe, following G.o.ddard down the lane through plumes of billowing white dust.

I'm still thinking about the boyfriend. "If Annie and her boyfriend are tight and he knows she's missing, why hasn't he come forward?"

"Maybe he's guilty of something."

"Or they could be together."

"Considering the blood at the scene, that would be a best-case scenario."

We're nearly to the end of the lane when, in my peripheral vision, I notice a flash of blue through the dust. I glance over and see an Amish girl in a blue dress standing on the shoulder. Brown paper bag in hand, she's braving a thick bramble of raspberries. She's picking the berries, I realize.

"Stop," I say abruptly.

Tomasetti hits the brakes hard enough to throw me against my shoulder harness. The tires grab and the Tahoe slides to an abrupt stop. He puts the SUV in park and tosses me a speculative look. "Amy Stutz?"

"Age looks about right."

A few yards ahead, G.o.ddard's brake lights come on and he pulls over.

I open the door and start toward the girl. Her eyes widen when she realizes I'm coming toward her. "Hi there," I begin in my most friendly voice. "Wei bischt du heit?" How are you today?"

"Ich bin zimmlich gut." I'm pretty good, but she's looking at me as if I'm an ax murderer, and I can tell she's thinking about making a run for the house.

"My name's Kate. I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm a police officer."

"Oh. h.e.l.lo." It's a duty greeting. She doesn't want to talk to me, but she's too polite not to respond when she's been addressed by an adult, even if they're English. I guess her to be about fifteen years old. She's wearing a plain blue dress with a gauzy white kapp that's been left untied at her nape, and on her feet are a cheap pair of sneakers.

"I'm looking for Mr. and Mrs. Stutz," I begin.

"They're visiting the Beiler family down the road. To see the new baby."

"What's your name?"

"Amy."

I make a show of looking at the raspberry bushes. "How are the berries?"

"Juicy." She peers into the bag. "Not too many bugs." She eyes the Tahoe. "They're not for sale. Mamm makes jam."

She's a pretty girl with hazel eyes and a sunburned nose. Her hands are dirty from picking berries and she's got a purple stain next to her mouth.

"Do you know Annie King?" I ask.

"Ja."

I see scratches on her arms from the th.o.r.n.y bushes and I can't help but remember all the times my mamm sent me to pick raspberries or blackberries. I always returned scratched and bleeding, but it was always worth the pain because I ate as many as I harvested.

"Did you know she's missing?" I ask.

The girl's expression falls. "I heard."

"We're trying to find her."