me.
In terms of Amish youth, I was an anomaly. But it’s my only perspective and I can’t help but compare my life with the lives of the missing teenagers. Do we share a common thread?
The only teen in the group I know personally is Sadie Miller. Pretty, troubled Sadie. The last time I saw her, she’d been dressed in painted-on jeans and a revealing tank top. Wearing too much makeup and smoking cigarettes. Cursing because she’d discovered the power of shock value. Sadie and her love of fabric and art and all of her big plans for the future. Sadie, the rule breaker.
Something clicks in my brain.
“Shit,” I say aloud. “That’s it.”
I spot an exit for a rest area and swerve right. Then I’m down the ramp and parking in front of a picnic area. For an instant, I sit there, gripping the wheel, my thoughts reeling, and all I can think is,
Getting out of the Explorer, I start toward the nearest picnic table, unclipping my phone as I go. I hit speed dial and begin to pace. One ring. Two rings. In the back of my mind, I’m already wondering if Tomasetti is avoiding me. Relief swamps me when he picks up.
“I found the connection,” I say without preamble. “The missing teenagers were breaking the rules. They were misbehaving. Acting out.”
“Run with it,” he says, and I do.
“Someone’s targeting troubled Amish teens. Bonnie Fisher was sexually active. She’d had multiple partners. She was pregnant out of wedlock and contemplating an abortion. Annie King had an English boyfriend, a bad boy, and she was known to run with a tough crowd. She was having doubts about her faith and was thinking about leaving the Amish way of life.”
The words tumble from my mouth in a rush. “Sadie Miller is prideful and individualistic. She wears makeup and tight jeans. She smokes cigarettes, drinks beer, hangs out with the English. She values all the things she shouldn’t, like her fabric art. She gets into fights, for Chrissake. She was entertaining thoughts of leaving the Amish way.”
There’s a pause and then Tomasetti says, “I’m playing devil’s advocate here, Kate, but every one of those so-called vices could be considered typical behavior for a huge percentage of American teenagers.”
“Not if you’re Amish. Sure, you hear about Amish kids misbehaving during
“It’s tenuous,” he says. “What about Ruth Wagler? Noah Mast?”
“I don’t have it all figured out, but I think it’s worth exploring.” I think about that for a moment. “Did Ruth Wagler’s parents mention having any problems with her before she disappeared?”
“No, but they weren’t exactly forthcoming.”
“I want to talk to them.”
“Makes it tough when no one has a damn phone,” he grumbles.
I sigh, relived he’s on board—or at least halfway in the boat. “I don’t know if I’m right but it feels . . . close.”
“It’s not like you’re an expert on breaking the rules or anything.”
The words dangle for a moment; then I clear my throat and tell him about Irene and Perry Mast’s having lost a daughter ten years earlier.
“Odd that they didn’t mention it,” he says.
“I’m on my way to Monongahela Falls now.” I pause. “If you can hang tight for a couple of hours, I’d like to go with you when you speak to the Wagler girl’s parents.”
“I’ll wait.” He goes back to my earlier assertion. “Keeping your rule-breaking theory in mind, what do you think about Gideon Stoltzfus? Do you think he figures into this angle somehow?”
All red hair and freckles, Gideon Stoltzfus looks about as harmless as a Labrador pup. But Tomasetti is right about appearances. Sometimes it’s the most benign-seeming individuals who are capable of the most heinous acts. “He’s put himself in a position to make direct contact with young people who are considering leaving the Amish way of life.”
“What about motive?” he asks.
I mull over the question and something ugly pushes at the door, trying to slip into the mix. “He’s been excommunicated. His family won’t talk to him. They won’t take meals with him. His parents won’t let him see his siblings. Those things can cause a lot of stress. A lot of anger. Rage, even.”
“Especially if your family is the center of your life.”
“For most Amish, it is,” I tell him. “In every sense.”
A pause ensues. I sense that we’re both working through the possibilities.
“So he’s pissed off at the Amish,” Tomasetti says after a moment. “He sees other young people getting away with all the things he couldn’t. His life is ruined. He’s had to join another church. Maybe he sees this as a way to get back at them. Hurt the Amish as a whole.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Murder seems extreme.”
“Rage is an intense emotion. Add insanity and/or sociopathy to the mix and you have a fucking time bomb.”
“How does he find them?”
“When we talked to him, he told us most people had heard of him through word of mouth and contacted him.”
“How does he know about the teenagers from other towns?”
“Maybe he’s got some kind of network in place,” he tells me.
The scenario isn’t a perfect fit. A lot of unanswered questions remain. But I know there are times when crimes simply don’t make sense, at least not in the mind of a sane person.
“Do you think this is enough to get a search warrant?” I ask.
“I’ll see what I can do to get things rolling.”
“We need to talk to some of the teens he’s helped in the past,” I say. “See if Stoltzfus sent up any red flags.”
“I’ll get to work on getting some names,” he replies.
More than anything, I want to turn around and help him with those names, but I’m nearly to the Mast place. Better to get this out of the way while I’m here. “I’ll finish up as quickly as possible and head your way.”
I barely notice the smell of hogs or the tall cornstalks encroaching onto the narrow gravel track as I turn the Explorer into the lane of the Mast farm. My mind is still working over my conversation with Tomasetti. The more I consider the possibility of Gideon Stoltzfus’s involvement with the missing teens, the more convinced I am that he’s a viable suspect.
Child predators and other deviants go to great lengths to cultivate prospective victims, doing their utmost to become caregivers or counselors. Stoltzfus puts himself in direct contact with Amish teens who are considering leaving the Amish way of life. I know from experience that a good number of those teens are, at the very least, discontent, or, at worse, troubled—the type of teen that fits the profile of the missing. They would be vulnerable to someone who claims to have the answers to all of their problems.
The grapevine is a powerful means of communication in the Amish community. It’s general knowledge that Gideon Stoltzfus helped young people leave the plain life. He’s built that reputation by taking in troubled teens, gaining their trust, and helping them start new lives. He lends them money, gives them food and a place to stay. He counsels them and helps them find jobs. What if all of those things are a front for a more sinister agenda? What if Gideon Stoltzfus has discovered the ultimate stratagem for hunting prey?
The question sends a scatter of gooseflesh down my arms. The scenario fits—and neither Tomasetti nor I saw it until now. What I haven’t been able to figure, however, is motive. As far as we know, there is no sexual element to the kidnappings. To complicate matters, Stoltzfus, whose reputation is above reproach, has indeed helped a handful of teens leave the Amish way without a single complaint that we know of. Are there other victims who’ve never come forward? Is it possible he helps some and simply does away with others? How does he decide
