Page 97 of The Burning

“Do you need some help with that?” She sends a pointed look at the ViCAP reports. “I’m still learning the ropes, but I’m pretty good at figuring things out.”

Temptation sparks, but I tamp it down. I know better than to involve her in something I shouldn’t be involved in myself. A smarter woman would call it a day. Drive back to the farm. Break the seal on that nice bottle of WhistlePig.…

I hand her the reports. “Make yourself copies of these. Get me contact info for the sheriff’s departments and state police on each of these cases. See if you can find the name of the lead investigator.”

“You got it.”

“For administrative purposes only,” I add.

“That’s what I thought.” She grins as she plucks the papers from my hand.

Margaret isn’t as adroit as Mona when it comes to mining the internet for data, but she’s a fast learner. Once she’s supplied me with contact info for the pertinent law enforcement agencies, I hit the phone. While I burn up the line, she expands her searches and continues digging for anything else she can find on the cases: news stories, social media posts, and updates on the crimes.

After nine calls and nine assurances that someone would get back to me, not a single investigator has responded. One is on vacation. Two have retired. Four have left for the day. I’ve left messages for the rest.

All the while, worry for Jacob presses down on me. No one has updated me, so I can only assume he’s been arrested. I wonder if Irene and the children were there, if they witnessed him being handcuffed and placed in the back seat of a sheriff’s cruiser.

“Here’s another newspaper story on the Lena Stoltzfus case.”

I look up to see Margaret charge through the door, a sheet of paper in hand.

“Thanks.” I take the sheet and pass her my notes on the Wisconsin case. “The detective retired two years ago. See if you can find his home number. Public information officer at the sheriff’s office said he moved to Florida six months ago.”

“I’ll find him.”

I force my concentration to the newspaper story Margaret just delivered. It’s out of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, about the Amish woman found dead in a farm pond. Margaret has highlighted the name of the investigator that handled the case. I shuffle through the papers on my desk and punch in the number for the Pennsylvania State Police.

“Let me transfer you to the public information officer,” comes a high-speed female voice.

“Wait—”

Too late. Three clicks and another voice picks up. Quickly, I identify myself. “I need to speak with Lieutenant Gersch.”

“Let me transfer you to the Criminal Investigation Section.”

I’m on hold for nearly four minutes and hoping I haven’t been relegated to phone hell when a curt male voice comes on the line. “Shulte.”

I introduce myself. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Gersch.”

“Actually, Chief Burkholder, Lieutenant Gersch passed away two years ago,” he tells me. “You’re stuck with me.”

I give him a brief explanation for my call. “I got a ViCAP hit on the Stoltzfus case in relation to a homicide we’re working on here in Painters Mill.”

“Let me pull up what I’ve got.” I hear the finger-peck of computer keys. “The Lancaster County coroner initially ruled the death a suicide. Amish woman found in a pond. The woman’s husband recalled seeing bruises on her neck. At that point, Lieutenant Gersch requested a second autopsy, which revealed the victim did, indeed, have ligature marks on her neck.”

“So the cause of death was strangulation?” I ask.

“Cause of death was drowning,” he corrects. “No one could explain the ligature marks until the sheriff’s department sent a diver into the water. They found a concrete block and a rope. The rope matched the ligature marks. Lieutenant Gersch theorized the killer had tied the rope around the victim’s neck, secured it to the block, and forced the woman into the pond, where she drowned.”

“How is it that the rope and block were no longer secured to the victim when she was found?”

“Presumably, the killer went into the water and cut the rope off her. We can only assume he thought law enforcement would draw the conclusion that she’d committed suicide.”

None of those details had made it into any of the reports I’d read. “Was an arrest made?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Persons of interest?”