Page 53 of Shamed

“What if, for some reason, the mother couldn’t care for her?” He lets the thought trail. “Would that be enough for the Amish to step in?”

“Maybe,” I say. “Family.”

A pause ensues as our minds work that over. “I’m looking for information on missing infants in Scioto and surrounding counties during that time frame. Tomasetti, there’s nothing there.”

“You follow up with the sheriff’s department down there?”

“They got nothing.”

“What about the Amish community?”

“Of course none of them have phones,” I tell him.

“Were you able to find Mary Yoder’s sister?”

“Dead,” I say. “Suicide.”

“Shit.”

“Tomasetti, the bishop who brought the baby to Painters Mill is dead.”

“How?”

“Buggy accident.”

Silence ensues. “Kate, why the hell would a bishop get involved in something like that? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t think a bishop would without some … compelling reason.”

“And what would a compelling reason be to take a newborn baby from its parents?”

“In light of Elsie Helmuth having Cohen syndrome, maybe her mother had been deemed mentally or physically unable to care for a baby. Maybe there was no father in the picture.”

It’s the most honest answer I can give. Or is it? Would it be more truthful for me to admit that the cultural roots I left behind so long ago still have a hold on me whether I like it or not?

“The footprints found at the scene were male,” he reminds me. “What if the mother and her male partner relinquished the child for whatever reason and, at some later point, had a change of heart? Maybe they did some digging and found out where the child was sent.”

“But … murder?”

“We’ve seen it happen for less.”

Lowering my head, I put my face in my hands and rub my eyes. “These people are Amish.…”

“What if they’re not? What if the Amish community saw some … injustice or wrongdoing and stepped in?”

“There has to be some … connection to the Amish,” I say. “Or the bishops wouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“There’s only one thing I can do.”

“I can’t go with you to Scioto County. Not with this girl missing and a task force in place.”

“With this being an Amish issue, it’s probably best that I go alone anyway,” I tell him.

“In the interim, I’ll dig around a little on my end.” He pauses. “Is the mayor going to give you grief over leaving town?”

“Of course he is. But I’m hired to protect and serve, not please. Besides, I’ll only be gone a day,” I tell him. “Two, tops.”