Page 85 of Breaking Silence

I’m already up, rushing toward the shower. “Could Mose be the one who pushed his parents into the pit? Has he done it before?”

“I think it’s time we asked him.”

CHAPTER 17

Twenty minutes later, I whip the Explorer into the Slabaugh lane and zip toward the house. I called Bishop Troyer on the way and asked him to check on Mose. Sure enough, the boy was nowhere to be found. Concern notches up into worry as I park at the rear of the house. It doesn’t elude me that the buggy is gone, and I wonder if Mose took it, or if the Rabers went into town.

Praying it’s the latter, I swing open the door and get out. Drizzle floats down from a slate sky as I jog toward the rear porch. Around me, fog hovers like wet ghosts, turning the farm monochrome. It’s like walking into an old black-and-white movie.

I hear the crunch of gravel behind me and turn to see Tomasetti park the Tahoe beside my Explorer. I don’t wait for him. Reaching the door, I rap hard with the heel of my hand.

“Mr. and Mrs. Raber?” I shout. “Police! Open up!”

A hard-edged uneasiness steals through me as I wait. The seconds seem to tick by like minutes. I know it’s premature, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

“They home?” Tomasetti strides toward me, his expression sober.

I motion toward the gravel area. “Buggy’s not here.”

“Maybe they went into town, took the kids with them.”

“I called Bishop Troyer on my way over. Mose is gone.”

“Shit.” Sighing, he leans past me, twists the knob. The door eases open, and we look at each other. “Reasonable cause,” he says.

“Let’s go.” In an instant, I’m through the door, running past the mudroom and into the kitchen. “Salome!” I shout. “It’s Kate. Are you here?”

Tomasetti takes the steps two at a time to the second level. I clear the downstairs bedrooms, the bathroom, and the basement, but none of the Slabaughs is there.

We meet in the kitchen a few minutes later. Tomasetti looks pissed. “That little fucker lied to us.”

I nod, hating it that I agree with him. “The question is, why?” I sigh. “Where the hell are they?”

“Hiding,” he growls. “Let’s check the barn.”

We move through the mudroom. Before realizing it, I’m running at a steady pace down the sidewalk. Light rain is falling now, cold on my face, but I barely notice.

“Kate.”

I look at Tomasetti and see him motion toward a small outbuilding—a shed. That’s when I realize the overhead door is ajar. We veer left. Bending, he rolls up the door. I duck beneath it before it’s fully up. The first thing I notice is the truck. It’s an old white Chevy with bald front tires and a broken headlight. It looks out of place here.

I glance at Tomasetti and he shakes his head. “Where the fuck did that come from?” he mutters.

“It wasn’t there last time I was here,” I say.

“I bet he’s been planning to run for some time.” Hands on his hips, he crosses to the truck, looks in the window. “Suitcases.”

I think of Salome. A sweet Amish girl. Pregnant at the age of fifteen. She thinks she’s in love. The situation is a disaster waiting to happen. “I bet he talked Salome into running away with him,” I say.

“Probably.” Tomasetti yanks at the truck’s door, but it doesn’t budge. “Locked,” he says. “No keys.”

“Where are Ike and Samuel?” I ask.

“Maybe they’re with the Rabers.”

A thread of worry twists through me, a hot wire melting through flesh, touching nerves. “We need to find them.”

“The Rabers, too.” He starts toward the door. “Let’s check the barn.”