Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11)(12)

“Any media inquiries?”

“Steve Ressler called ten minutes ago.”

Not for the first time, I’m astounded by how quickly word travels in a small town. Ressler is the publisher of Painters Mill’s weekly newspaper, The Advocate. “Do not confirm anything at this point. Nothing is for public consumption.”

“Sure.”

“Lois, I need an aerial map with topography of the Schattenbaum property and the surrounding area. Call the Holmes County auditor. Ask them to fax it to you. Tell them it’s an emergency and I need it yesterday.”

I end the call and hit my shoulder mike as I slide out of the Explorer. “Mona, what’s your twenty?”

“Glock and Skid and I just cleared the barn and the smaller outbuilding.”

“Anything?”

“Negative.”

“I need you to ten-fifty-eight,” I tell her, using the ten code for direct traffic. “I want the road in front of the Schattenbaum place blocked off at both Ts, flares and cones. No one comes in or goes out. I’ll get County out there to help you.”

“Roger that.”

“Tell Glock and Skid to search the back of the property. It’s a big spread. Grab some deputies, set up a grid, and get it done.”

“Ten-four.”

“Pickles? What’s your twenty?”

“T.J. and I are talking to neighbors, Chief. We split up to cover more ground. He’s south. I’m north.”

“Anything?”

“No one saw shit.”

I blow out a breath of frustration. “Keep at it.”

As I near the house, I spot a Holmes County deputy standing just off the back porch. He looks my way and I recognize him. He was the first deputy to arrive on scene.

“Chief.” He crosses to me, looking relieved to be away from the carnage inside. “Damn this is bad.”

“Anyone else in the house?” I ask as we shake hands.

“BCI guy ordered everyone out. Their crime scene truck is on the way.”

Tomasetti, I think, and I’m thankful he got here so quickly. “House is clear?”

“Yep.”

“Outbuildings are clear.” I look past him toward the barn and field. “Look, I just sent two officers to search the back of the property. Maps of topography and plat are on the way. If you can spare a couple of deputies to help us with the search, I’d appreciate it.”

“You got it.” He reaches for his shoulder mike.

“Chief Burkholder.”

I turn to see Tomasetti come out of the house. I go to him and we shake hands, a ridiculously formal greeting considering we’re living together. Since it’s not common knowledge among our peers, we’re ever cognizant of appearances.

He holds on to my hand an instant too long. “Any word on the kid?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I talked to the parents. She’s not there. I need to put out an Amber alert.”

“We meet the criteria.” He pulls out his phone, thumbs something into it. “I need a physical description. Photo, too.”

“Seven-year-old white female. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Three feet nine inches. About sixty pounds. Tomasetti, she’s special needs.”

“Shit.”

“No photo.” I describe her clothing—a white kapp and light blue dress—and he types all of it into his phone.

“You have anything on the suspect?” he asks.

I recite the particulars from memory. It isn’t much. It isn’t enough. But it’s all I have, so we’ve no choice but to run with it.

He doesn’t look away from the screen or question me about any of it as he sends the information. Both of us are too aware that a stranger kidnapping of a child is the most dangerous kind. Every minute she’s gone raises the possibility of a negative outcome. For me, the passage of time is like the pound of a tine against a broken bone.

“Vehicle?” he asks.

“I don’t know. The sister said he was Amish.”

“Still, he could be driving a vehicle. He could be disguised as an Amish person. But we’ll go with it for now.” He sighs. “I’ll get this put into NCIC,” he tells me, referring to the National Crime Information Center system. “I’ll call the coordinator over at DPS.” The Department of Public Safety. “Amber alert broadcast will go out within the hour. I’ll send what I have and we’ll fill in the rest of the blanks as we figure things out.”

The crunch of tires on gravel draws our notice. Relief eases some of the tension at the back of my neck when I see the BCI crime scene truck pull into the driveway. Tomasetti and I start toward it. Normally, I’d stick around for the collection of evidence. I’d wait for the coroner to arrive. But with a child missing, my efforts are best used looking for her or developing a suspect.

I look at Tomasetti. “You got this?”

“Got it covered, Chief. Go.”

I leave him with the crime scene unit. I’m on my way to locate the fence line to the east when I run into Glock and Skid along with two Holmes County deputies.

“You been to the back of the property?” I ask.

“Heading that way now,” Glock tells me.

I look around. Another Holmes County cruiser has arrived on scene. I think about the missing girl again, feel that incessant beat of time.…