Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11)(15)

The sense of dread I’d been feeling since I laid eyes on the body of Mary Yoder augments into a knot in my gut that’s being drawn inexorably tighter. All children are innocent, but for this to happen to a child with special needs heaps on another cruel layer of urgency.

I watch as Tomasetti sets a branch over the garbage bag to keep the wind from blowing it away. “I’m going to talk to the sheriff, check on the status of getting dogs out here.”

My cell vibrates against my hip. I check the display. My dispatcher. “Hey, Lois.”

“I got two registered sex offenders within a ten-mile radius of the Schattenbaum address, Chief. One of them is Amish.”

I pull out the small notebook I keep in the back pocket of my trousers. “Give me the Amish guy first.”

“Lester Nisley.” Computer keys click on the other end, and then she reads. “Twenty-two years old. Convicted of rape of a thirteen-year-old girl in 2015. Got out on parole last September. Current address 5819 Township Road 4.”

Less than five miles away.…

“What about the other guy?”

“Gene Fitch. Fifty-seven years old. Convicted of rape of a nine-year-old girl in 1992. On parole since 2016. Home address 9345 County Highway 83, Painters Mill.”

… rape of a nine-year-old girl …

“Anything on Eddie Graber?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Thanks, Lois.”

“Only thanks I need, Chief, is for that little girl to get home safe and sound.”

“Amen to that.”





CHAPTER 4


Two hours missing

A few minutes later I’m in the Explorer with Glock in the passenger seat, and we’re northbound on Ohio 83. I left Tomasetti with the tire and footwear marks and relinquished the collection of evidence to the capable hands of BCI. Both of those things freed me up to do exactly what I need to be doing: looking for Elsie Helmuth.

“So what’s the story on Eddie Graber?” Glock asks.

I tell him about the near drowning. “It left him with some emotional issues. Impulse control. A temper.”

“Bad combination.”

“Yeah.”

The Graber farm is just two minutes from the Helmuth place. I take the long gravel lane up a rise, past a couple of derelict barns and a good-size garden. The house is brick and set behind three evenly spaced maple trees. I see Big Eddie’s father standing in front of yet another barn, running a currycomb over a nice-looking Standardbred gelding, so I pull up to him and shut down the engine.

Glock and I exit the vehicle and start toward him.

“Guder Ohvet.” Good evening. I hold out my badge as I approach.

Edward Graber is a large man. Six-three. Two fifty. I guess him to be about forty years of age. He’s a widower, having lost his wife a couple of years ago to pancreatic cancer. They have one son, Eddie, and the two live alone here on the farm.

The Amish man nods, his eyes moving from me to Glock. “Been hearing lots of police sirens,” he says. “What’s going on over there? Are Miriam and Ivan okay?”

“Is your son home, Mr. Graber?”

“What do you want with Eddie?” he asks.

“There was an incident over at the Schattenbaum place earlier. I need to ask him some questions. Is he here?”

A brief hesitation and then he brings two fingers to his mouth and whistles. It’s an odd way to summon a young man, but it works. A few seconds later, Big Eddie appears at the barn door.

“Big Eddie” Graber is just sixteen years old, but he’s already as large as his father. Not exactly overweight, but … meaty. Strong-looking. He’s wearing a straw hat. A black coat. Work trousers with suspenders. Greasy brown hair brushes the collar of his coat. Leather gloves cover hands the size of dinner plates.

“Hi, Eddie,” I say by way of greeting.

“Hey,” the boy mutters, and then slogs over to us, looking at the ground, at the barn, anywhere except at me. Like many teenagers his age, he’s got acne on both cheeks. He looks uncomfortable. Probably because I was there the day he got in a fight at the Butterhorn Bakery. Or else he has something to hide.…

“Can you tell me where you’ve been all day today?” I ask.

The boy’s eyes slide from me to his datt and then back to me. “Here.”

“All day?”

“Ja.”

The elder Graber narrows his gaze on me. “What’s this all about, Chief Burkholder? Why are you asking about my son’s whereabouts?”

I don’t answer, wait, let the pressure build to see how they handle it.

“I been here,” Big Eddie says defensively. “Helping Datt shore up the loft there in the barn. We’re going to pick up hay tomorrow.”

“Did you leave this property at any time?” I ask.

“I took a walk down to the pond to see the ducks.”

“Alone?”

“Ja.”

“Did you see any of the Helmuth family today?”

“No.”

I look from man to boy. “Do either of you have access to a vehicle?”

“We are Amisch,” the elder Graber tells me. “No.”

I look at his son. “When’s the last time you were at the Schattenbaum place?”