Gone Missing (Kate Burkholder 4)

says.
    “Local law enforcement isn’t getting much from the Amish families,” Tomasetti adds, clarifying the matter.
    “Unfortunately, that’s not unusual,” I tell them. “There’s a certain level of distrust between the Amish and the government, particularly law enforcement. We ran into that when we had a rash of hate crimes last December.” I don’t look at Tomasetti as I speak. I’m afraid if I do, somehow these men will know that we’re more than colleagues, more than friends. “The Amish are also slow in making contact with us because of their tenet of remaining separate. But there are also cultural issues. Religious issues.” I think of the chasm that stretches between me and my siblings. I don’t mention the fact that sometimes even if you’re born into the plain life, you can still be an outsider. “Generally speaking, once we convince the family we have only their best interest at heart, they’ll open up, especially if the safety of a loved one is in question.”
    “Excellent.” Bates slides a folder across the table toward me. “We’re still putting things together, Kate, so the file is sparse.”
    Intrigued, I open the file and find myself staring down at three missing-person reports. Bates was right: The information is hit-or-miss. The missing consist of three females between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, all of whom are Amish.
    “We think their being Amish is the key element here,” McNinch says.
    “Do you think this is a serial thing?” I ask. “And this is some kind of escalation?”
    Tomasetti nods. “Maybe.”
    “What we can’t figure is motive,” Bates says.
    “No ransom demand,” Tomasetti puts in.
    “Yet,” Bates adds.
    “Anything come to mind off the top of your head?” McNinch asks.
    I look up from the reports and make eye contact with him. “I’m sure you’ve already considered this, but the first thing that comes to mind is that these are sexual in nature.” I think of the Plank murder case and all of the dark places the investigation took me. “It could be fetish-related. An individual with an Amish fetish acting out some fantasy. His motivation has more to do with the victims’ being Amish than anything else.”
    “I didn’t know such a thing existed,” McNinch comments.
    “We’re running queries through NCIC and VICAP,” Tomasetti says. “We’re still waiting for results.”
    “There’s also the hate angle,” I tell them. “It’s happened in Painters Mill. I know of cases in other towns, too.”
    “I guess hate crimes don’t have to make sense.” Bates scratches his head. “But the Amish? Seems like they’d make pretty good neighbors.”
    “Some people don’t like the religion and see them as fanatical or cultlike. Some don’t like them because the horse and buggies hold up traffic.” I shrug. “You name it and there’s probably some nutcase out there who thinks it.”
    “Have you ever dealt with any kidnappings with regard to the Amish?” McNinch asks.
    I shake my head. “Suspects?”
    Bates shakes his head. “Nada.”
    “Anything at any of the scenes?” I ask.
    “We don’t have a scene,” Tomasetti replies. “These kids disappeared without a trace. We don’t know where the actual kidnappings—if, in fact, that’s what we’re dealing with—took place.”
    I look down at the file. The part of me that is a cop is intrigued by the puzzle. I want to know what happened and why. I want to find the person responsible, go head-to-head with whoever it is. I want to stop him. Bring him to justice. But the more human part of me—the part of me that is Amish and knows the culture with such intimacy—is outraged by what has been done and frightened by the possibilities. “What about the victims? Aside from being Amish, do they share any other common threads?”
    “Not that we’ve found, but we’re still gathering information,” McNinch says.
    “Analyst is looking at everything now,” Tomasetti adds. “Once we arrive on-scene, we’ll talk to the families. That’s where you come in.”
    I nod. “That’s where we’re going to get the brunt of our information. The families. Friends.”
    “We haven’t been able to get our hands on photos,” Bates adds.
    “Most Amish won’t have photos of their children,” I tell him.
    He stares at me blankly, and I realize he’s probably not an Ohio native. “Most Amish don’t like to have their photos taken,” I tell him. “They feel it’s a vain display of