Page 36 of The Hidden One

“I don’t have to remind you that I’m not a rookie, do I, Tomasetti?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my due diligence as a domineering lover and know-it-all ex-cop if I didn’t remind you that sometimes you care a little too much.”

“I’ll be careful,” I tell him. “And you’re not a domineering lover.”

He laughs because I didn’t mention know-it-all ex-cop.

We spend a few minutes engaging in small talk. About the farm. He tells me about the just-hatched chicks. The purple martins checking out the new birdhouse. All the while I sense something unsaid between us. A hovering presence I don’t want to acknowledge. A subject he doesn’t want to broach.

This time, we let it go.

I’m wakened from a dead sleep by the rattle of my cell phone against the night table. For an instant, I think I’m home, but Tomasetti isn’t there. I roll, grapple for my cell, squint at the incoming number. I don’t recognize it and answer with a coarse, “Yeah.”

“Chief Burkholder?”

It takes me a moment to place the voice. “Effie?” I sit up, look over at the clock on the table next to the bed. 5:15 A.M. “Is everything okay?”

“The police came to our house. They’re yelling and being mean. Mamm told me to run to the pay phone and call you.”

“Do you know what they want?”

“All I know is they knocked on the door really hard and woke everyone up. They were mean to Mamm. She asked them what they wanted and they told her to just read the papers. She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Where are the police now?”

“Um … outside, I think.”

I can only assume the papers she’s referring to are a warrant. But that doesn’t make sense because the sheriff’s department has already searched the house. Jonas is in custody. Why would they return to the house for a second search?

“All right,” I tell the girl. “Go back to the house. Tell your mamm I’m on my way. Tell everyone to stay calm.”

“They’re not going to take my mamm, too, are they?”

I try not to wince. “No one’s going to take your mamm, honey,” I assure her. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“That’s what Datt said right before they put him in jail,” the girl whispers.

As I end the call, it occurs to me that there’s probably more I don’t know about the case than I do.

CHAPTER 12

I call the sheriff’s department twice on my way to the Bowman house. Once, I’m put on hold and never gotten back to. The second time I’m transferred to the public relations officer’s voicemail. I don’t bother leaving a message.

The Bowman property is alight with the flashing blue lights of law enforcement vehicles when I arrive. I count three cruisers as I pull in to the driveway. A state police crime scene unit truck. A fifth vehicle—a white van—belongs to an NBC affiliate from nearby State College. A lone deputy stands in the driveway, pacing and talking on his phone. I catch sight of Dorothy on the front porch, huddled in a big cardigan sweater, lantern in hand, and I pull over and get out.

“What happened?” I ask as I start toward her.

The Amish woman is disheveled, hair sticking out from beneath her kapp. Sockless feet jammed into plain white sneakers. All of it telling me she was roused from sleep with no time to dress properly.

“They just came pounding on the door.” She brandishes the warrant, the papers rattling because her hand is shaking. “Gave me this. Said they were going to search that old well out back.”

“A water well?” Even as I say the words, I take the warrant and skim. Executed in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. The warrant application was approved by the district attorney. In the description of the premises to be searched is the address of the home, but neither the house nor the workshop is listed. Instead, the area to be searched is listed as a nonoperational water well.

Farther down, I come to the place on the page where the specific evidence to be obtained is listed.

Firearms, ammunitions, biological evidence, multimedia devices, and any other physical evidence related to the crime in question.

Puzzled, I look at Dorothy. “Do you have any idea what they’re looking for?”