Lord, he hoped so. “I’m going to submit a request to get undercover details on those other two girls. If we’re lucky, the bastard will come to us.”
…
“Are ya sure ya don’t want me to push the cart?”
“Nein, ich kann es schaffen.”
“Use yer English words, Eli…”
“I can do it,” he repeated with a dramatic sigh. “Why do ya make me use English words so much?”
“Why are ya so owley today?” she countered. “Park the cart over here.” She entered the empty room, and Eli followed. He headed to the bathroom while she began stripping the sheets off the bed. She tried not to bring Eli to work with her, but this wasn’t the first time she’d had no one to watch him. She was thankful that Mr. Seltz was understanding. He often made comments to her about how difficult it must be, a widow living on the farm all alone. It wasn’t easy. In truth, it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her, and she wouldn’t take advantage of his kindness, so when Eli came with her, he helped clean the rooms.
They had their routine, and he was a hard little worker. It made her proud, the way he tried, at even this young age, to help her. “Well…? I’m waitin’ for an answer,” she called out, shoving the soiled bedding into the laundry sack.
“What if he ain’t comin’ back, Ma?” Eli exited the bathroom with an armful of towels and dumped them in with the bedding.
“Who?”
“Josiah. What if he ain’t comin’ back cuz he’s thinkin’ ye’re mad at him?” He grabbed the cleaner off the cart and headed back to the bathroom.
“Make sure that nozzle’s pointin’ away from ya before ya spray it.”
He gave her a look that said she didn’t need to keep reminding him, but she wouldn’t stop saying it. She shook out the fitted sheet and began fastening it around the corners of the bed. “And don’t ya worry about Josiah. He’ll come back.” Though as she said it, the what-ifs needled her. There had been a time she was sure he wouldn’t leave her, and he had. Did she really know him well enough to make her son these promises? “Do ya like him that much?” she asked, fluffing the flat sheet over the bed.
“He’s nice. Nicer than Uncle Abel. He read me a story, and I get to play with Dexter.”
They finished cleaning the room and then moved to the last one down the hall—Josiah’s room. Since he was still staying there, the room only needed tidying with fresh towels and a bedding change. She slid the master key into the lock and opened the door. Other than the mess of files scattered over the desk, the room was essentially untouched. The bed hadn’t even been slept in yet.
“Go check for dirty towels.” Hannah opened the curtains and cracked the window to let a little fresh air in the room while they worked. Eli came running out the bathroom with his arms full. The bundle caught a box on the desk, and it toppled to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Ma! I didn’t mean to!”
“It’s okay.” Hannah rushed over and saved a file just as it was about to slip off the desk. “Go finish in the bathroom and make sure to stock it with plenty of fresh towels. I’ll clean this up.” She knelt and righted the box, picking up the files and stacking them back inside as carefully as she could. Hannah picked up the last one and momentarily froze when she spotted a small black book. It couldn’t be… Yet, here it was, beneath the pile of papers. Cassie’s diary—the diary Josiah told her she couldn’t read because he’d had to submit it as evidence.
He lied to me…
Hannah’s bottom connected with the floor, and she sat staring at the black leather-bound book held tightly in her hands as her mind tried to reconcile this painful truth. She wasn’t sure how long she remained there, but she was still sitting when Eli came rushing out of the bathroom.
“All done! Ma?” Eli hurried over and set his little hand on her shoulder. “Ma, are ya okay?”
Shaking herself from her shock, Hannah finished straightening the files and stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. “Ja, Eli, mji geht es gut.” But she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine at all.
“Ma, use yer English words.”
…
“Oz, you wanted to see me?” Dexter’s head snapped up as Kent rapped his knuckle against the door, announcing his presence a few seconds too late.
“Yeah, come in.”
The ME stepped into Joe’s office. He looked surprised to find Sam there sharing an office with him. His bushy brows arched in question.
“Bill, this is Samantha Roth, FBI profiler and analyst on the Barber case. Sam, this is Bill Kent, the ME and lead forensic pathologist.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling warmly and extending her hand.
“You, too.” Kent came forward and gave it a shake before turning his attention back to Joe. “Stoltz said you wanted to see me?”
“I’m wondering what the turnaround time is for getting the DNA results on Heinz.”
“I just finished processing him. If I rush it, a week.”
“I don’t think we have that kind of time. Another girl is missing.”
“I heard…”
“I need to know if he’s our guy.”
“I can get the results of the prints as early as tomorrow, but the buccal swab is going to take a little time. If he’s a match on the binoculars and the condom wrapper, that’s at least a step in the right direction—something to hold him on. Maybe Ms. Roth can pull some strings and get the analysis sooner? But a week is the best I can do.”
“Sure,” she offered. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Sam picked up the phone and started making calls. Dexter scented the air, shot to his feet, and trotted across the room, heading right for Kent. Before Joe could warn him, Dex nosed Kent’s crotch. He caught the dog’s head and pushed it away, but Dex persistently began sniffing him. When Kent tried shoving him back a second time, Dexter barked at him. Sam plugged her ear that wasn’t attached to the phone.
“Come on, Oz. I’m not really a dog person,” Kent griped.
“Sorry. Dexter’s a cadaver dog. He’s acting like that because he smells death on you. Dex come…”
“Well, I did just come from the morgue,” Kent grumbled.
The dog reluctantly retreated to sit next to Joe.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to get back to the lab. See what I can do about those prints.”
“No, that’s all. Hey, I appreciate your help expediting this.”
“Not a problem. I’ll call you when I know something. Hey, are we still on for lunch?”
Joe checked his watch. It was already past noon. “Yeah, sure… Just give me another half hour here.”
“No problem.”
Kent pulled the door closed, and Joe exhaled a sigh, dropping his head in his hands. Goddammit… He was running out of time. Ruth King was running out of time. The shit he had on Heinz was circumstantial at best, but if he was the guy… Then again, what if he wasn’t? He didn’t entirely fit Sam’s profile, which reminded Joe that he needed to go see the deacon. And with this whole Facebook development opening a new set of leads, his best chance of catching this bastard was to draw him out. Problem was, even if one of the two remaining girls agreed to be used as bait, it was unlikely the bastard was going to bite—not with Ruth King missing. The Barber had never taken two girls before, and Joe saw no reason he’d break his pattern now.
Muttering a curse, he picked up the phone and placed a call to the Eau Claire County Sheriff’s Department. After explaining who he was and why he was calling, and about five minutes on hold, he finally got connected with the sheriff.
“Sheriff Johnson…”
“Good afternoon, Sheriff. My name is Detective Joe Troyer. I’m currently investigating a serial case in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. I’m calling because VICAP flagged some similarities between my case and one you had five years ago. I was hoping to talk with you about Michelle York and Chelsea Peters. Do you recall the case?
” To jog the sheriff’s memory he added, “Two girls under eighteen, both strangled to death and their hair cut off…”
“I remember, Detective. How could I fucking forget? Heartbreaking.”
“I know how you feel. I’ve got four dead girls and another one missing. I’m wondering if you can send me a copy of those files.”
“Sure. But that case is closed. Thomas Root was convicted and sentenced to twenty-five years. DNA tied him to both victims. I just wish we could have gotten the bastard for the third.”
“A third? VICAP only hit on two.”
“It probably never flagged the data base because the case was so old. VICAP was fairly new back then. We think Root could have been responsible for another murder fifteen years earlier, but we couldn’t get an indictment—no physical evidence to tie him to the crime.”
“Do you remember the girl’s name? What county she was from?” Joe grabbed a pen and pulled a notepad from the drawer.
“Sure do. Mary Rabine, seventeen years old. She lived in Door County.”
“Door County? That’s Amish country.”
“Very good, Detective… Mary Rabine was Amish.”
No way… “You sure you got the right guy for this?”
“Absolutely… Funny you’d ask, though. That’s what he’s been saying for the last five years. ‘You got the wrong guy.’ But then that’s always what they say, isn’t it? DNA doesn’t lie, Detective.”
“Was Thomas Root Amish?”
“Nope.”
“I really appreciate your help with this. Can you also send me what you have on Mary Rabine and the contact information for whoever you were working with in Door County?”
“No problem. Anything to help. Feel free to give me a call if you have any more questions.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“So, other than Heinz, you got any leads on this case?” Kent asked before taking a bite of his burger.
They’d gotten to the pub shortly after one. He’d invited Sam to come with them, but she’d declined. The analyst was having some trouble cutting through the red tape of Facebook’s admin and stayed behind to keep working on it. Joe offered to bring her back lunch, and Sam promised to call him right away if anything broke in their case.
“You don’t think it’s Heinz?” Joe asked out of curiosity.
“Hey,” Kent held up his hands in defense. “Don’t ask me, I’m just the forensics guy.”
Joe chuckled. “You’re the lead ME and head of the forensics department. You’ve seen a lot of shit over the years. I value your opinion.”
“Well…” Kent dipped a few fries into his ketchup and popped them into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “In my experience, cases like this tend to boil down to motivation. Once you figure out what’s driving this guy to kill, then you’ll find him. Until then, you’re just kinda chasing your tail. Heinz didn’t strike me as the complex sort. Then again, those prints, and the DNA may come back as his, and you’ll prove me wrong.”
“I thought we might be looking for someone Amish, but now with this whole Facebook thing, I’m not sure anymore.”
“What Facebook thing?”
“The girls had a Facebook page they called Breaking Amish. Four of the seven girls in the group are dead and one is missing.”
“Holy shit, Oz… That’s huge. Quantico must be having a field day with that.”
“Sam’s all over it, but she’s having trouble getting access to the accounts. You know who fits Quantico’s profile?” Joe took a bite of his burger and gave Dex a fry.
“Who?”
“The goddamn deacon. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Huh?”
Kent whistled and took a sip of his soda then continued chewing thoughtfully. “You’re damned determined to become public enemy number one around here, aren’t you?” Chuckling, he added, “It would be an interesting twist, I’ll give you that. Have you started vetting him yet?”
“On my to-do list for this afternoon.”
Shaking his head, Kent shot Joe a sympathetic grimace. “Damn, Oz, I don’t envy you. That’s for sure.”
…
“Hey, Tink, got your vegan wrap.”
Sam shot him a smirking grin and held out her hand. “Ha-ha, Troyer. You’re about to see this pixie get hangry.”
Joe chuckled as he handed her the bag. She dug into it, grabbed her wrap, and took a giant bite. Pointing it at him, she said past a mouthful of sprouts, tomato, and cucumber with avocado schmeer, “Fun fact…Tinker Bell didn’t speak. Looks like someone needs to brush up on their Disney movies.”
He laughed and shook his head as he headed to his desk. “I’ll be sure to put that at the top of my to-do list once I catch this killer. What did ya find out when I was gone? Please say it’s good news.”
“Mmm…” She swallowed her mouthful. “How about mediocre news with a side of intrigue?”
“Good enough. Let’s hear it…” Joe pulled the laptop cord from the wall and began wrapping it around his fist. He still needed to see the deacon before it got too late, and the afternoon was getting away from him.
“I’ve got someone at Quantico working with Facebook administration to get access to the victims’ accounts, but of the two names left, only one of them is real.”
“No shit…” He shoved the cord into his bag, packed up the files on his desk, and slipped them in, too.
“Yep, Sarah Lapp. I’m sending you her address now.” Sam’s fingers flew over the keys with impressive speed. “But Rebecca Fisher, she doesn’t exist. It’s a fake account. Just to be sure, I did some image searches from the pictures she posted, and they all came off Google. I’m pretty sure Rebecca Fisher is our guy.”
“He’s catfishing them…”
“Exactly. I really want to get my hands on these private messages, but the red tape with Admin is slowing us down. We need a court order, but that should be coming soon. Unfortunately, we still don’t know who Rebecca Fisher really is. Could be anybody. Once I can get into Sarah Lapp’s account, I’ll have a way to communicate with him. Maybe we can draw him out. If he doesn’t catch on to us first.”
“It a good thought, but I don’t think he’s going to move as long as he has Ruth King. We need to find this fucker before he kills her. Which reminds me, did you expedite the DNA testing?”
“Yep. Where are you headed?”
“Churchtown. To talk with the deacon.”
“Did you have any luck with Eau Claire?”
Joe stuffed his laptop inside the carrying case. “The sheriff was helpful, but I’m not sure where it’s going to lead yet. I’m waiting for the files to come through. There’s a cold case in Door County similar to ours. But it’s odd…the unsolved is twenty years old and they’ve already got the guy, Thomas Root, on two other murders. They couldn’t convict him of the third for lack of evidence, but the kicker in that one? The girl was Amish.”
“No shit?”
Joe couldn’t help but laugh. It was like hearing a Disney character curse.
“The age fits the profile. You sure they got the right guy?”
“That’s what I asked, but the sheriff was pretty damn certain of it.”
“Interesting…”
“What’s that?”
“You ever consider the possibility that our killer is like you?”
Joe bristled as he eyed Sam across the desk. If she sensed his defensiveness, she didn’t show it as she continued to inhale her sandwich. “What do you mean ‘like me’?”
Sam shrugged. “You know…raised Amish, left the faith to join the outside world. Maybe he’s returning to his roots with a grudge? He wouldn’t go back to the same parish as before, not if he intended to start killing again. But it would explain a lot, like how he can blend in so easily and still be savvy to technology. Why he’s choosing these girls. It’s almost like he’s punishing them…”
Joe shouldered the strap on his bag and paused. “Th
at’s a really good thought.” Heinz was new to the area. So was Deacon Schrock… Hadn’t Mark Seltz told Joe he’d recently bought the inn from Mrs. Gunderson? Where did he say he’d moved here from? Who else was new to the surrounding community? There couldn’t be very many people. Amish generally stayed where planted. The church would have a record of its newest members that he could reference against the list Sam was getting for him. “I’m going to head out. Give me a call if you have any more epiphanies.”
“You got it. Good luck with the deacon.”
Dex follow him out, and Joe crossed the parking lot. He opened the rear door for Dex to hop in. Before closing it, he set the laptop bag loaded with case files on the floor behind the seat. He was rounding the back of the car when a voice called across the parking lot, “Detective Troyer…”
Shit… Deputy Mills was pretty much the last person Joe wanted to deal with right now. He still had a shit-ton of work to do, and he wanted to get to Hannah’s before it got too late. As the day wore on, he grew increasingly regretful for snapping at her. She was right, he was hiding something from her—a big something. And his guilt over it certainly hadn’t tempered his response when she’d pressed him about it.
He’d tried to warn her he wasn’t the man she thought she knew. Could he become that person for her again? Joe didn’t think so. The outside world had corrupted him to the point he no longer recognized who he once was. He’d had to reinvent himself, and there was no getting the old Josiah Troyer back. Which got him thinking about Sam’s theory… Could the killer leave this world and then blend right back into it years later? Not very likely.
“Detective Troyer…” Deputy Mills called again, cutting across the parking lot and jogging toward him.
Aw hell… There was no pretending he hadn’t heard the guy now. Joe opened the door to telegraph his intent but stopped before getting in. “What’s on your mind, Mills? I was just heading out.”
“I, uhh…” He shot Joe a nervous glance. “I wanted to say thank you—”
Vow of Silence Page 21