Pray for Silence

“Do you remember the color of his eyes? Or the color of his hair?”

“Strawberry man.”

“Strawberry man?” My mind circles the term, trying to make sense of it. “What do you mean?”

“His hair was the color of a strawberry.”

Disappointment edges into me. Todd Long had reddish-blond hair. “How many men did you see?”

Billy holds up two fingers.

My heart dips into a single, slow roll. All I can think is, I was right; there is an accomplice! It’s a dark thought, but at this moment I want to get my hands on the second perp so badly I can already feel his hyoid bone giving way beneath my fingers.

“What did the second man look like?” I ask.

The boy struggles with the question, as if he can’t put such a broad description into words. I try to narrow it down. “Was he a white man?” I ask. “Was his skin white like mine?” I motion toward Glock. “Or was it brown, like Officer Maddox?”

Billy grins shyly at Glock. “He had white skin.”

Glock smiles back and gives him a thumbs-up, but Billy looks away.

“You’re doing great, Billy,” I say. “What color was his hair?”

His brows go together, as if he’s faced with a difficult math equation. After a moment, he perks up. “His hair is like Sam’s!” he blurts out.

“Sam?” I look at Alma.

“Sam is one of our horses,” Alma explains. “He’s brown.”

Nodding, I turn my attention back to Billy. “Was the man big or small?”

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“Pants?”

I smile. “Do you remember what color they were?”

Another vigorous shake.

“What about his age? Was he old? Or young?”

“I dunno.”

“What color were his eyes?” I ask. “Were they brown like Officer Maddox’s? Green, like mine? Or blue, like your datt’s?”

His face screws up for a moment, then he shakes his head. “I dunno. I din look.”

I’m no expert on interrogating children. Even less so a special child like Billy. But he’s my only witness. In order to solve this case, I need the information locked inside his head. In the back of my mind, I’ve already decided to call Tomasetti and request a sketch artist.

I move on to the tougher stuff. “What did you see that night when you looked in the window?”

For the first time, Billy looks scared. He shakes his head from side to side, like a dog shaking water from its coat after a bath.

“Did you see Mary?” I ask.

“No.”

“Who did you see?”

“The Englischers.”

“What were they doing?”

The boy’s brows knit. His mouth scrunches, a child faced with an unpleasant food. “Bad things.”

“What did they do, Billy?”

“They made Mary’s mamm cry.”

I tamp down impatience. “How did they make her mamm cry? What did they do?”

“The Strawberry Man put Mr. Plank to sleep.”

“Put him to sleep?”

“The way datt puts the hogs to sleep for sausage.”

I look at William, but I know where this is going. With the exception of dairy cattle, the Amish butcher their livestock for meat.

The Amish man presses his fingertips against the bridge of his nose, then heaves a sigh.

“What do you do to the hogs, Mr. Zook?” Glock asks.

Zook shifts his attention to Glock. He looks shell-shocked. “I shoot them before I butcher them. It is more humane that way.”

I return my attention to Billy. “What did you do after you saw them put Mr. Plank to sleep?”

“I don’t like that part,” the boy says. “So I ran home.”

Something clicks in my mind, and I find myself thinking of the night I chased the yet unidentified intruder into the cornfield. “Did you go back the next day to check on Mary?”

The boy looks down at the floor, jerks his head. “She wasn’t there.”

“Who did you see?”

He draws a circle on the floor with the toe of his boot. “Are you gonna get mad?”

“No. I promise.”

“I saw you.”

“Poor kid saw it all.” Glock and I are in my Explorer, heading back to the station.

“He’s the one I chased into the cornfield that night.” I sigh. “At least now we know there were two killers.”

“Kid must’ve been scared to death,” he says.

“I might feel better about this if I knew the second guy wasn’t running around loose.”

“We’ll get him, Chief.”

I wish I felt as optimistic. “The Strawberry Man is obviously Long.”

“All we have on the second guy is brown hair. Not a lot to go on.”

My disappointment is keen. I was hoping for a definitive ID on the accomplice. I rap my hand against the wheel as I pull into my usual spot at the station. “Damnit.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Call in a favor.”

Tomasetti isn’t very optimistic, either. “Did the kid ID Long?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want a sketch artist out there in the hope that he’ll be able to give us a decent description of the second guy?”

“He’s all we have. I think it’s worth the time and effort.” I’m sitting at my desk, looking out the window, trying not to feel discouraged. “Do you have someone you can send? Someone good with kids or experienced with the mentally retarded?”

“Do you want the bad news or the good news?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, you can leave out the bad altogether.”

“I wish that was an option.” He sighs. “The suits caught wind of my involvement with this case.”

“Just when you think things can’t get any worse.” Now it’s my turn to sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you for help.”

“I offered.”

“How bad is it?”

“The deputy superintendent is shitting bricks. He wants me in his office first thing in the morning.”

“Doesn’t sound good. You going to be okay?”

“I’m always okay.”

“Tomasetti . . .”

He sighs heavily. “Look, Kate, I hate to say it, but my being involved in this could fuck it up for you.”

I consider the repercussions of that a moment. “I’ll go through official channels.”