Page 48 of Shamed

“Yes.”

“Was your mother involved?” I ask.

“I think she knew about it. I don’t know how much. I asked later, but she wouldn’t speak of it.”

“Did Elsie’s biological parents agree to relinquish her? Or was Elsie … taken? Removed from the home?”

“No one said.”

We fall silent, the only sound coming from the tap of rain against the window. The hum of the propane refrigerator. The white noise of our thoughts.

“Miriam, do Elsie’s biological parents know where she was sent?” I ask.

Her eyes widen. A wild and primal fear tears across her face. “You think they did this?”

Sie is meiner. She’s mine.

“I think it’s a possibility we have to consider.”

Leaning forward, she puts her face in her hands and begins to sob. “Oh dear Lord, how could this happen? And why now?”

I don’t know what to say. What to think. Staring at her as she sobs, I don’t even know what to feel. “Is there anything you can tell me that might help me figure this out?”

She straightens, raises her gaze to mine. “The notes.” She whispers the words as if she’s frightened someone might hear her. “I didn’t tell you … Ivan thought it best if we didn’t say anything.”

“What notes?” But I’m thinking about the note found on Mary Yoder’s body. A detail that was not made public.

Rising, Miriam goes to the kitchen drawer, pulls out a small devotional book, opens it and pulls out some papers. “Three of them now. The latest this morning. In the mailbox.” She unfolds three sheets of lined notebook paper and slides them across the table to me. They look as if they’ve been folded and unfolded a dozen times. The same type of paper as the note found on Mary Yoder.

Ill-gotten treasures have no lasting value, but righteousness delivers from death.

As I read, I’m thinking about evidence. Fingerprints. The possibility of DNA. Matching the paper to a specific notebook or manufacturer. A retailer. The prospect of CCTV or even a check or credit card.

I go to the second note.

The Lord is a God who avenges. O God who avenges, shine forth. Rise up, Judge of the earth; pay back to the proud what they deserve.

And the third.

Anyone who steals must certainly make restitution, but if they have nothing, they must be sold to pay for their theft.

“I should have told you.” Miriam begins to sputter. “I was scared. Ivan didn’t want to tell. He didn’t—”

“Who has handled these notes?” I ask, my voice sharp.

“Me. Ivan. That’s it.”

“Do the passages mean anything to you?”

The Amish woman shakes her head. “The first is a proverb. The second is a psalm. Ninety-four, I think. The other … Exodus.”

I stare at her, letting the full force of my anger come through. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“That’s it. That’s everything. I promise. I was just so scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Miriam, listen to me. If we’re going to find Elsie. If we’re going to find the person responsible, you have to trust me. You have to be honest. You have to tell me everything. Do you understand?”

“I do.” She looks down at her hands, where they’re knotted in front of her. “Chief Burkholder, I don’t know who the mother is. Who the parents are. I don’t know where they’re from or why they did what they did.” A sob escapes her. “All I know is that when I took Elsie into my arms, she was mine. She was home.” She goes to pieces. “I want her back. My sweet baby girl. Please. Chief Burkholder, find her for us. Find her before it’s too late.”