Page 5 of The Pact

“The icebox?”

He nods. “He says that’s where all the big ones are.”

“Was he alone?” I ask.

The two exchange a look that tells me there’s more to the story. I wait.

“He didn’t mention anyone else,” Jeff says. “But he’s been hanging out with that Amish kid. The Kuhns boy, Aaron. We’ve been trying to nip it in the bud. I mean, they’re not exactly compatible.”

I’m not sure what he means, but I can tell by his expression he’s not happy about the relationship. “They’re friends?” I ask.

“Unfortunately,” he growls.

I look from Jeff to Monica. “Has the friendship between the boys been an issue?” I ask.

He grimaces. “Look, Chief Burkholder, I know they’re your people. Nothing against the Amish, but I’d just prefer Kevin got in with a different crowd. Used to be he was interested in football and NASCAR. Now, all he wants to do is hang out in the woods with that damn Amish kid, go fishing, and read those weird comic books.”

I nod, knowing that when people use the nothing-against-the-Amish phrase, they usually do harbor some grudge they don’t want to admit to. Kids rarely have the same biases as their parents. If only they could hold on to that.

“Have you talked to Aaron’s family?” I ask.

“They don’t have a damn phone,” he snarls.

“There are several Amish families in the area with the last name of Kuhns,” I tell them. “Do you know the names of his parents? Or have an address for them? I’ll send someone out there to talk to them.”

“They own that dairy farm off Hogpath Road,” Monica tells me. “The one with the two silos out front.”

“Smells like a cesspit,” the man grumbles.

His wife nudges him with her elbow. “I’ve never met his parents, but his mom’s name is Susie. Not sure about his dad.”

I pull out the pad of paper and get a description of the missing boy. Kevin Dennison is four feet, six inches tall. Eighty pounds. Wearing a camo jacket, blue jeans, a Cincinnati Reds ball cap, and high-top sneakers. “Do you have a photo of your son?” I ask.

Monica digs into her purse. “Right here. It’s his school picture.” Her hand shakes when she passes it to me. “It was taken last month.”

I glance at the photo as I walk it over to Mona. Skinny kid with short brown hair. Hazel eyes. Freckles. A lopsided grin that reveals a mouthful of braces. I pass it to Mona. “Get this out to everyone. Sheriff’s department, too. Call Glock and T.J.,” I say, using the nicknames of two other officers, “tell them to meet me at the covered bridge.”

“Got it.”

I turn back to the couple. Something about their reaction to their son’s friendship with an Amish boy has me wondering if this could be a runaway situation. “Any problems with Kevin recently?” I ask. “Any arguments? Has he gotten into any trouble? Anything like that?”

Jeff Dennison’s brows lower. “Look, Chief Burkholder, Kevin is a good kid. We don’t have any problems with him, so let’s keep it simple. He went fishing and he didn’t come home.”

“All right.” I cross to the coat tree next to the door, grab my jacket. “Kevin’s not answering his cell?”

“I’ve been trying every five minutes,” Monica says.

“Straight to voicemail?” I ask as I slip into my jacket. “Or does it ring first and then go to voicemail?”

“Rings and goes to voicemail.”

Which likely means he didn’t turn it off. “Keep trying him,” I tell her.

I look at Mona. “I’m going to talk to the Kuhns family and then head out to the covered bridge.”

“Roger that.”

“I’m going with you,” Jeff announces.