“We went to a basketball game. Special Olympics. My brother’s handicapped.”
“You spend the night?”
“Yeah.”
“Where did you stay?”
“Holiday Inn off of Interstate 23.”
“You know I’m going to check.” I jot everything down.
“It’s okay. We were there.”
“When Amanda told you she didn’t want to be tied down, did you get jealous?”
“No. I mean, a little. Like, when I imagined her going out with other guys. But not like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d never hurt Amanda. Jesus Christ, not like that.” A quiver runs through the last word.
“Like what?”
“I heard . . . what he did to her.”
“Who’d you hear it from?”
“Waitress at the diner said he . . . you know.” Sweat beads on his forehead and upper lip. Wrapping the sandwich in a napkin, he tosses it into the trash. “Makes me sick.”
“I need you to think hard about this, Donny. Is it possible Amanda was seeing someone else?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. She wasn’t guy crazy or anything. Amanda had a level head.”
“So you think she was being straight with you?”
“She said she wanted to stay friends.” He lifts a shoulder, lets it drop. “I figured that was a lot better than never seeing her again.” His eyes mist. “Doesn’t matter now. I’m never going to see her again, anyway, am I?”
I shove my notepad into my coat pocket. “Don’t leave town, okay?”
His gaze meets mine. In his eyes I see the kind of pain a twenty-two-year-old farm kid probably can’t fake, and I feel an uncharacteristic need to reassure him.
“You guys think I did it?” he asks.
“I just want you to be available in case I have more questions.”
Leaning back in the chair, he swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I don’t have any plans to go anywhere, anyway.”
I offer my card. “If you think of anything else, call me.”
He looks at the card. “I hope you guys catch the lowlife who did that to her. Amanda didn’t deserve to die.”
“No, she didn’t.” As I make my exit, I mentally cross Donny Beck off my list of suspects.
It’s not yet eight A.M. when I arrive at the station. Glock’s cruiser is parked in its usual spot. Next to it, Mona’s Ford Escort is covered with a thin coating of snow. I wonder what new catastrophe waits for me inside.
Mona looks up from her phone when I enter. “Hey, Chief. You’ve got messages.”
“Now there’s a surprise.” I take a dozen slips from her.
Her hair is piled on top of her head with little ringlets spiraling down. Her lipstick is almost as black as her nail polish. Maroon eyeliner makes her look like she’s got a bad case of pinkeye. “Norm Johnston is getting pissed about having to leave messages, Chief. He’s like, you know, taking it out on me.”
“Did he say what he wants?”
“Your head on a platter, probably.”
I give her a look.
“Just a wild guess.”
I laugh. “Where’s Glock?”
She glances down at the switchboard where a single red light stands out.
“On the phone.”
“When he gets off, tell him to call me.” I walk to the coffee station and fill the biggest mug I can find. In my office I turn on my computer, then drape my coat over the back of my chair. I’m anxious to see if OHLEG came back with a hit on Daniel Lapp.
My hopes are dashed when I log in. If he’s alive, he’s being careful. Probably using an alias. Maybe even a stolen identity or false social security number. Under normal circumstances, I’d start flashing his photo around town. But I can’t risk raising questions. People will want to know why I’m asking about a man who hasn’t been seen for sixteen years. They’ll put two and two together, and Daniel Lapp will rise out of obscurity like some Amish version of Jack the Ripper.
I dial Norm Johnston’s number. Miller’s pond would do the job. It’s a good size body of water with a muddy bottom.
Johnston answers on the first ring. “I’ve been trying to reach you for almost two days, Chief Burkholder.”
“I’m tied up with this murder, Norm. What can I do for you?”
“The town council and mayor want to meet with you. Today.”
“Norm, look, I need to work—”
“With all due respect, Kate, you are obligated to keep us informed. We want an update on how the investigation is progressing.”
“We’re working on a couple of leads.”
“Do you have a suspect?”
“I put out a press release—”
“That doesn’t say squat.”
I sigh. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know much.”
“Then a meeting won’t take long. I’ll have everyone in the city room at noon. We’ll have you out of there in twenty minutes.”
He hangs up without waiting for a response and without thanking me. He’s still pissed about that DUI. Self- serving bastard.
“Chief?” I’m so immersed in my thoughts I didn’t hear Mona approach.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
Something in her eyes puts me on alert.
“Hello, Katie.” Sarah wears a navy dress with a black apron and a heavy winter cape. Her blonde hair is parted severely at the center and drawn into a bun at her nape, all of which is covered by the traditional Amish
Rising, I round my desk, pull out the visitor chair for her and close the door.
“Have a seat.” After an awkward moment, I ask, “How are you feeling?”
It’s an uncomfortable question. This isn’t the first time Sarah has been pregnant. There have been three times that I know of. Each time she’s miscarried late in the second trimester.
She smiles. “I think it is God’s will that I have this baby.”
I return her smile. She’ll be a good mother; I hope she gets the chance.
“Did you drive the buggy into town all by yourself?”
She nods, her gaze flicking away briefly, and I know she’s here against her husband’s wishes. “William is at the horse auction in Keene.”
“I see.” Waiting, I watch her struggle with some internal conflict I can’t quite identify.
“I talked to Jacob,” she says after a moment. “He told me you went to the grain elevator. That Daniel Lapp may be alive.”
“It’s only a theory.” I can’t keep my eyes from sliding to the door to make sure we’re not overheard.
She continues as if she didn’t hear me. “All these years we believed he was with God.”
