Gone Missing (Kate Burkholder 4)

looks down, nods. “ Datt came into the barn and found us.”
    “What did he do?”
    “We prayed and then he made Hannah leave. Then he took the buggy whip to me.”
    A sigh hisses from Tomasetti’s lips. “He hit you with the whip?”
    “He made some marks is all. On my legs, my rear end. You know.”
    “How old were you at the time?”
    “I dunno.” He shrugs. “Fourteen or fifteen. It was a long time ago.”
    Tomasetti nods. “What else did your father do to you when you were bad?”
    “Sometimes he took me to the tunnel. Put me on the wall.”
    “What do you mean by ‘put me on the wall’?”
    “With the chain, you know.”
    “He chained you to the wall?”
    “ Ja. ”
    “How long did he make you stay there?”
    “Well, it depended on how bad I was. Sometimes an hour.” He shrugs bony shoulders. “A week.”
    “How often were you bad?”
    Noah looks down at his hands, picks at a scab. “All the time. I tried to be good. I tried to abide by the Ordnung and God’s laws. But sometimes I could not.”
    “Why did your datt move you into the tunnel permanently?”
    The Amish man raises his hand and bites at one of his nails. His leg jiggles faster beneath the sheets. “He blamed me for what happened to Becca.”
    “Is Becca your sister?”
    “ Ja. ”
    I write down the name, then the word sister beside it.
    “What happened to her?” Tomasetti asks.
    “She killed herself.”
    “Why did your parents blame you?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything.”
    “Did Becca ever misbehave?”
    “No. Never. Becca was perfect.” He lowers his face into his hands and begins to cry. “She was like an angel.”
    Tomasetti gives him a moment. “So, after Becca died, they moved you into the tunnel and you lived there permanently?”
    “ Ja. ”
    “Did they ever let you out?” he asks.
    He raises his head, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “They brought everything I needed down to me. Meat and bread. Water. Milk. Mamm read the Bible to me.”
    Tomasetti stares at the calluses on the man’s wrists. “Did they keep you chained?”
    “Most of the time. But only because I tried to leave.”
    “Were there others down there with you?”
    Noah doesn’t answer immediately. It’s obvious he’s trying to protect his parents, despite the cruelty they inflicted upon him, the years they stole from his life. “I never saw them. But I could hear them sometimes. You know, crying.”
    “Do you know any of their names?
    The Amish man shakes his head.
    “Were there girls and boys?”
    “Girls, I think.”
    Tomasetti nods. “Do you know why your parents put them there?”
    “I figured they did something bad and needed to be brought back. Same as me.”
    “How did your parents find the girls?”
    “I dunno.”
    “Do you know how they got the girls into the tunnel?”
    “I think God brought them.”
    Tomasetti looks down at his hands, laces his fingers, unlaces them. “Noah, about your parents . . . I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”
    “What do you mean?” The Amish man pushes up in the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. The gown shifts, and I see a swirl of hair on a sunken chest and shoulders that are bony and sharp.
    “Your parents were killed earlier today. I’m sorry.”
    “What? Killed? ” His mouth opens. I see yellow incisors and molars in the early stages of decay. “You mean they are dead?”
    “I’m very sorry,” Tomasetti says.
    “But how can that be? I saw them this morning. Mamm brought me milk, like always. They weren’t sick. Why are you saying these things?” He looks at me as if expecting me to dispute the words. When I don’t, he collapses back into the pillows and looks up at the ceiling, his chest heaving. “I don’t believe you. They would not leave me.”
    Without looking away, Tomasetti reaches for the plastic pitcher of water on the tray and pours some into a cup, hands it to Noah.
    The Amish man doesn’t look at us as he sips. When he finishes, he relaxes back into the pillow and closes his eyes. “I cannot believe they are gone. How did they die?”
    “Your father was sick—”
    “But he was fine!”
    Tomasetti touches his temple. “He was sick inside his head, where you couldn’t see it.”
    Noah Mast puts his face in his hands and begins to sob.
    The Whistle Stop Tavern in Monongahela Falls is nestled in a warehouse district between the Grand River and a busy set of railroad tracks. In keeping with the train theme,