Page 11 of Disappeared

She looks away, brushes a strand of hair from her face. “I don’t know.”

I bank a rise of irritation, keep pressing. “Your mom told me Little Joe is sick. If something happens to him while he’s in your brother’s care, this is going to get very serious, very quickly.”

The girl’s eyes skate away from mine. She grasps the prop rod holding up the hood, secures it, and lets the hood slam with a deafening clank! “Can’t help you, Chief Burkholder.”

I look at the man, but he turns away, saunters over to the rollaway toolbox against the wall and pretends to dig around for a tool he can’t seem to find.

I turn my attention back to the girl. “That little boy is unaccounted for,” I tell her. “The creek next to the house is about to crest. We’re concerned for his safety.”

An emotion I can’t quite decipher flickers in her eyes, but it’s gone quickly, forcibly banished by a girl who doesn’t want me inside her head. She lifts a shoulder, lets it drop. “I hope you find him.”

“Colleen.” I let her name dangle, give another hard push. “There was blood at the scene. If Thomas is involved, the only way you can help him is to tell me where he is. You know I’ll be fair.”

She startles when the buzzer sounds, announcing a customer, but calms herself quickly. “Sorry, Chief Burkholder. I can’t help you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to work.”

My temper sizzles as I yank open the door of the Explorer and slide behind the wheel. I sit there a moment, frustrated because I’m convinced Thomas McKee is somehow involved in the disappearance of his son—and I don’t believe a word of what I’ve been told. I’m trying to come up with some shred of leverage I can use to get Colleen McKee to come clean with what she knows when I see the front door of the body shop open. I watch as the woman in question runs toward me.

I lean over and open the passenger side door. She slides onto the seat next to me, water dripping off the brim of her hat and the shoulders of her coveralls.

She doesn’t waste any time. “I love Little Joe and so does Thomas.”

I nod, wait.

“Give me your word you won’t arrest him,” she says.

There are no rules against a cop telling someone what they want to hear in order to gain their cooperation. Especially if an innocent young life hangs in the balance. Right or wrong or somewhere in between, it’s done. A not-so-perfect means to an end. Even so, I don’t like the idea of misleading her, so I take a more straightforward path.

“I’ve always believed Thomas is a decent young man,” I tell her. “Even when he was getting into trouble. I know things got tough when your dad died.”

“Your word, Chief Burkholder.”

“All I can tell you is that I’ll do right by him,” I say. “I always have.”

She reaches for the door handle as if to leave, but she doesn’t open it. After a moment, she leans back in the seat and closes her eyes. “He loves Little Joe,” she whispers. “And he’s crazy in love with Bonnie. When he found out she was pregnant, he wanted to marry her.” The girl’s brows knit. “That’s what I don’t understand about all of this because Bonnie was crazy about him, too, Chief Burkholder. Just because Thomas doesn’t share the same culture or religion or whatever, she walked away. Talk about a small mind. Might as well have cut his heart out.”

I think about the cultural dynamics of Amish and English and I resist the urge to sigh. “Did he ever mention wanting custody?”

She shakes her head. “Not without Bonnie. He loves her. And she’s just as in love with him.”

“Do you think he took the baby?” I ask.

“I can’t see him doing that.” She raises her gaze to mine. This time, the tough façade is gone and I get a glimpse of the raw worry beneath. “Look, I’ll defend Thomas to my dying day. He’s a good man and he would have been a fantastic dad. I think she would have married Thomas if it hadn’t been for her family giving her so much grief.”

“Why exactly don’t they like Thomas?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway in the hope she’ll elaborate in some way that will help me find him.

“Because he’s not Amish. Can you believe that?” She shakes her head. “The only reason I’m telling you this is because I think there’s something going on with Little Joe.”

“Like what?”

“Thomas wouldn’t get into the details. He’s private about things. But I think Little Joe is sick. I think it might be serious.”

Little Joe gets nosebleeds …

Erma Kline’s words roll unbidden through my mind. “What’s wrong with him?”

She shrugs. “All I know is that he’s been sick. Thomas mentioned it a time or two. At first, I figured the little guy just had a cold or the sniffles. You know how kids are. Looking back, I think Thomas was worried about him.”

“Do you know where they are?” I ask.