Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11) - Linda Castillo Page 0,22

was never a doll lover as a child; much to my mamm’s chagrin, I was a tomboy and more likely to be playing ice hockey or riding the plow horse. Still, I manage to find an Amish-made doll I think a five-year-old girl will like.

In keeping with the Amish tradition of avoiding any type of graven image, it’s faceless and made of nude-colored fabric. She’s wearing a royal-blue dress, a black apron, and a black bonnet, with smooth nubs for hands and feet. I deflect questions from the clerk about the murder and missing girl as she rings up the sale. I put it on my card and then I’m through the door and back in the Explorer.

I pass six buggies as I near the Helmuth farm, Amish men armed with flashlights or lanterns and the resolve to find one of their own. At the mouth of the lane, I raise my hand in greeting to two boys on horseback. It’s unusual to see so many out after dark, when most Amish families are winding down for the night or already in bed. These men have organized search parties. More than likely, the women are cooking and cleaning for the Helmuth family. As is always the case, the Amish community has rallied to support those in crisis.

The farm glows with lantern light. The windows. The front porch. Even the barn is lit up. There are four more buggies, the horses still hitched, parked in the gravel off the back door. Tomasetti’s Tahoe sits adjacent to a chicken coop, the headlights on, engine running. I park behind the Tahoe and start toward it. I’m midway there when Tomasetti and his passenger get out. He’s wearing his usual creased trousers, button-down shirt, and suit jacket with the tie I bought him for Christmas last year. He looks tired, rumpled, and grim.

“Agent Tomasetti.” I extend my hand, cross to him, and we shake.

“Chief Burkholder.”

I turn my attention to the woman standing next to him and offer my hand. She’s petite, about fifty years of age, with silver hair cut into a sleek bob. She’s wearing the usual agent attire. Khaki slacks. Button-down shirt. Practical shoes. A navy windbreaker embellished with the BCI logo. She’s soft-spoken and self-assured, without the in-your-face demeanor I see in so many law enforcement pros.

“Mackenzie Upshaw.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Everyone calls me Mackie.”

She’s no-nonsense and to-the-point. No makeup. No frills. Discerning blue eyes beneath thick black brows.

“Agent Tomasetti was just filling me in on the case,” she tells me. “I wanted to get your take before we speak to the child.”

With the niceties out of the way—and kept to a minimum—she’s ready to get down to business. I like her already.

Tomasetti motions to his Tahoe and we gather around for a quick huddle. “Kate, Mackie is trained in the forensic-interviewing protocol RATAC—rapport, anatomy identification, touch inquiry, abuse scenario, and closure,” he tells me. “It’s a questioning process most often used with child victims of sexual abuse.”

“It’s a terrific protocol,” Mackie tells us. “Effective and nonintrusive. It basically means I’ll be asking nonleading questions, using terms the little girl will understand. I’ll keep it nice and slow since most children that age have pretty short attention spans.”

“I talked to Annie immediately after the incident.” I relay to her our exchange. “I didn’t get as much out of her as I would have liked.”

“Kids make for extremely difficult interview subjects, especially when they’re younger than six or seven years old.” She pauses. “I understand this child is Amish.”

I nod.

“Is there anything you can tell me that might help me relate to her?” Mackie adds.

I take a moment to get my thoughts in order. “Amish kids are much like their English counterparts, especially when they’re as young as Annie. That said, there are distinct differences.” I pause, thinking. “Generally, Amish kids are more sheltered. More disciplined. Religious. They’re taught to respect and obey their elders, especially their parents. The biggest difference is that she will probably see you as an outsider, not because you’re a cop, but because you’re not Amish.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Win her trust.” I hold up the doll, pass it to her. “Bribery.”

Mackie takes the doll and grins. “Cool.”

“Works every time,” Tomasetti mutters.

“If I sense she’s clamming up or becoming uncomfortable,” Mackie says, “I want you to jump in. We need to keep her engaged and as focused as possible. Any thoughts on that?”

I shrug. “Deitsch might help.”

“Excellent.” She thinks about something a moment. “Is she