Page 102 of Breaking Silence

I reach out and run the backs of my knuckles over his soft cheek. “Honey, I’m not mad. Okay? And you’re not in any trouble. But you need to tell me what happened. I’m the chief of police, so you can tell me the truth. I’ll protect you and keep you safe.”

“You’ll send us to jail for bad kids!” Ike blurts. “Salome said so!”

Samuel elbows his brother hard enough to make him grunt.

Realizing what he said, Ike slaps his hand over his mouth, stares at me over the tops of his fingers.

I divide my attention between both boys. “Listen to me. You’re not going to jail. And you’re not in any trouble. Do you understand?”

Tomasetti appears at the barn door. I glance over, watch his expression as he takes in the scene and walks over to us. “Hi, boys,” he says. “Everything okay?”

The kids look at the ground and mutter a greeting.

I scoot over and Tomasetti sits on the step next to me. “Where’s Salome?” I ask.

“Inside with Adam.”

I nod toward the boys. “Samuel and Ike have some things to tell us,” I say.

Tomasetti sets his elbows on his knees and folds his hands. “All right.”

I turn my attention to Samuel, holding my breath because I’m afraid the boys will clam up now that Tomasetti is here. Or maybe they’ll deny what I heard so clearly just minutes before. I turn my attention to Ike. “Tell Agent Tomasetti who put you and your brother in the pit.”

“Mose did it,” Samuel says quickly.

I turn my attention to the younger boy. “Ike, who put you in the pit?”

The little boy begins to cry. “Mose.”

Reminding myself of the horror and trauma these two boys have been subjected to, I rein in my impatience. “That’s not what I heard you say a moment ago.”

Neither boy can meet my gaze. They’re not very good at lying, and I’m certain Tomasetti sees that as clearly as I do. Up until now, no one had even considered the possibility they had been threatened—or worse.

“Ike?” I press. “Who put you into the manure pit?”

“No one.” But he looks at his older brother. I see an apology in his eyes, and I know he’s going to come clean.

“Someone put you there,” I say. “You didn’t get down there by yourself.”

After a moment, Ike wipes his nose on his coat sleeve. “She told us not to tell,” he says between sniffles.

“Ikey!” Samuel hisses.

I ignore the older boy. I sense Tomasetti’s attention zeroing in on Ike. “Who told you not to tell?” I ask.

He hesitates for so long, I think he’s not going to answer. I’m in the process of formulating my next question when he whispers, “Salome.”

A profound silence sweeps over us. Abruptly, I’m aware of the high-pitched hiss of drizzle falling on the tin roof, the two dogs snuffling over by the water trough, the cows in the rear part of the barn.

“Salome pushed you in the pit?” Tomasetti asks.

Ike gives a giant nod. “Don’t tell! She made us promise not to tell. She’ll be really mad.”

Next to him, Samuel screws up his face and begins to cry. “Now we’re going to go to the jail for bad kids!” he cries. “They do stuff to Amish kids!” He looks at his younger brother. “You ruined everything!”

“No one’s going to jail,” Tomasetti says.

I’m not so sure. Someone’s going to go to jail. But it won’t be these two little boys.