Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11) - Linda Castillo Page 0,14

the pound of a tine against a broken bone.

“Vehicle?” he asks.

“I don’t know. The sister said he was Amish.”

“Still, he could be driving a vehicle. He could be disguised as an Amish person. But we’ll go with it for now.” He sighs. “I’ll get this put into NCIC,” he tells me, referring to the National Crime Information Center system. “I’ll call the coordinator over at DPS.” The Department of Public Safety. “Amber alert broadcast will go out within the hour. I’ll send what I have and we’ll fill in the rest of the blanks as we figure things out.”

The crunch of tires on gravel draws our notice. Relief eases some of the tension at the back of my neck when I see the BCI crime scene truck pull into the driveway. Tomasetti and I start toward it. Normally, I’d stick around for the collection of evidence. I’d wait for the coroner to arrive. But with a child missing, my efforts are best used looking for her or developing a suspect.

I look at Tomasetti. “You got this?”

“Got it covered, Chief. Go.”

I leave him with the crime scene unit. I’m on my way to locate the fence line to the east when I run into Glock and Skid along with two Holmes County deputies.

“You been to the back of the property?” I ask.

“Heading that way now,” Glock tells me.

I look around. Another Holmes County cruiser has arrived on scene. I think about the missing girl again, feel that incessant beat of time.…

“I think the Schattenbaums owned about sixty acres,” I tell them. “Ran cows for a while, so it’s fenced. Probably cross-fenced.”

Skid motions right. “Woods are pretty thick along that creek on the east side.”

“Whole damn place is overgrown,” one of the deputies pipes up. “Nooks and fuckin’ crannies.”

“Got some deep pools in that creek,” Glock adds. “Water runs swift in a couple of areas.”

“All right.” I bring my hands together and relay a description of the girl. “Name is Elsie. Seven years old. Amish. Special needs.” I motion toward the rear of the property. “Set up a loose grid. Glock, you take the east woods. Keep your eyes on the brush and water, especially any deep pools. Skid, you got the fence line. Keep your eyes west.” I look at the two deputies. “Can you guys handle the pasture?”

Both men nod.

“Keep your eyes open for blood,” I tell them. “Stay cognizant of evidence. Mark anything suspect. We’ll do a more thorough grid search when we get more guys.” I motion toward the greenbelt. “I’ll take the creek in front. Eyes open. Let’s go.”

The four men head toward the back of the property. I cut between the house and barn, head toward the woods. The grass is hip high as I pass through a microforest of saplings, most of which are taller than me. It’s a huge, overgrown area. I try not to think about how easy it would be to miss something important. Midway to the fence line, I rap my shin on a solid object, realize it’s the remains of a doghouse. From the look of things, no one has been this way for a long time. No broken branches. None of the grass is laid over.

I find a stick, use it to poke around, hopefully avoid running into something hidden. Fifty yards and I reach the fence that runs front to back along the east side of the property. Rusty barbed wire is propped up on a combination of cedar posts and steel T-posts. The fence is falling down where the wood has rotted through. I make the turn, head south toward the road.

The house is now behind me and to my right. I stick to the fence line, ducking beneath branches, glad it’s too late in the year for snakes. I hear the rush of water over rocks to my left, telling me I’m not far from the creek.

I’m thirty yards from the road when I spot a patch of disturbed grass. I stop, my pulse kicking, eyes tracking. The grass is laid over. A path, I realize. It starts at the house, weaves through a dozen trees, and leads to the fence. From there, it follows the fence line toward the road. I hesitate, taking it in, aware that if someone left the house in a hurry and didn’t want to be seen, this would be the perfect route.

That said, there are a lot of deer in the area. My datt was a hunter and I went