Page 8 of A Gathering of Secrets

I nod in agreement, but I’m troubled by the possibilities. “The kid’s car is parked at the end of the lane.”

“I saw it when we pulled in.” His brows knit. “Why would he park it there?”

“His parents don’t approve and don’t allow him to bring it onto the property. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“Any bad blood between Daniel and his parents?”

“No one has said anything, but I’ll dig a little, see what I can find out.”

My cell vibrates against my hip. I glance at the display, see T.J.’s name come up. “What do you have?” I ask.

“I’m out here at the Raber farm, Chief,” he tells me. “Talked to both the parents as well as the daughter, Luane. Daniel Gingerich hasn’t been here for a couple days.”

“Thanks for checking.”

“You bet.”

“Can you do one more thing for me before you call it a day?”

“Name it.”

“I want you to canvass the area around the Gingerich farm. Take a drive around the perimeter. Knock on some doors, talk to the neighbors to see if anyone has seen Daniel.”

“You got it.”

I end the call and look at Tomasetti. “If Daniel Gingerich took off, not only did he leave his car behind, but his girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t sound like something an eighteen-year-old boy would do.” Tomasetti reaches for his phone, glances at the display, and then drops it into his pocket. “I’ve got to go. Keep me posted, will you, Chief?”

“Thanks for coming along.”

“Any time.” He glances left and right, but there are too many people around for him to risk kissing me. Instead, he offers up a grin. “See you later.”

CHAPTER 3

It’s noon by the time I arrive at the police station. Before leaving the scene I talked to the fire chief from Millersburg. I’ve met Fred Achin on several occasions over the years. He’s a family man, a good chief, and an experienced firefighter. The interior of the structure was still too hot for them to make entry, but they laid down over five thousand gallons of water and Fred thought they’d be able to start sifting through the rubble this afternoon.

At first light I spent a couple of hours walking the property, but there was nothing there. No sign of a vehicle, no unusual footprints. Law enforcement doesn’t get too excited right off the bat about an eighteen-year-old boy going missing, but in light of a suspicious fire and the passage of so much time without contact, we’re actively looking for him. I also spent some time with Gideon and Miriam Gingerich. The Amish are generally stoic in the face of adversity. Even so, the couple was understandably distraught about their missing son. I sat down with them and they supplied me with a list of Danny’s friends as well as places he might’ve gone. I promised them I would leave no stone unturned. Even if he had something to do with the fire—whether it was accidental or deliberate—locating him is job one.

My uniform reeks of smoke as I slide behind my desk and boot up my computer. I’ve just taken my first sip of coffee when my phone jangles. It’s Fred Achin.

A wave of foreboding rolls over me at the sound of the fire chief’s voice. In my heart of hearts, I know there’s news—and it’s not good.

“We got a body in the barn,” he tells me.

“Shit.” I get to my feet. “Are you sure?”

“We’re sure.”

My mind spins through the repercussions. “You got ID?”

“No.”

“Has anyone talked to Gideon or Miriam Gingerich?”

“No. Look, the investigator just discovered the remains a few minutes ago. I knew you’d want to know right away.”

“The fire marshal is on scene?”