Free Gone Missing (Kate Burkholder 4) by Castillo Linda Page A

good girl. She would not worry us over something like that.”
    Edna remains silent, not responding. Not even with a shake of her head. There are times when silence has a voice all its own. I mentally file the information away for later, wondering if she’s privy to something her husband is not. Sometimes daughters confide in their mothers. . . .
    “Have you had any problems with Annie?” I ask gently. “Has she broken the rules? Has she seemed unhappy about anything recently?”
    The look that passes between them is so subtle, I almost miss it. But I know there’s something there, some scrap of information they don’t want to reveal. “We’re not here to judge you,” I tell them. “Or her.”
    “We just want to find your daughter,” Tomasetti adds.
    When neither of them speaks, I continue. “Look, I know that sometimes teenagers make mistakes. Even Amish teenagers.” I feel Tomasetti and Goddard watching me, but I don’t look away from Edna. “Even good girls,” I finish in Pennsylvania Dutch, purposefully excluding the two men.
    After a moment, Levi nods. “Annie is very strong-willed.”
    “She’s a good girl,” Edna says quickly.
    An alarm sounds in the back of my brain. Maybe it’s because I know that when parents feel the need to emphasize the goodness of their children, there’s usually a reason. Like maybe the kid isn’t quite as well-behaved as they’d like everyone to believe, and as they desperately want to believe themselves.
    After a moment, Edna lowers her face into shaking hands. “She is a good girl.”
    The last thing I want to do is alienate them; at the moment, they are our best source of information. But I know if I don’t push, I won’t get what I need, and that is the truth—all of it.
    I let the silence ride, giving them some time; then I return my attention to Edna. “Have you spoken to Annie’s friends?”
    Edna raises her head. “She keeps to herself mostly.”
    “Does she have a best friend?” I press her, knowing that whether you’re Amish or English, if you’re a teenage girl, you have a confidante.
    Edna perks up. “She’s been friendly with the Stutz girl. They went to a singing last week after worship. Amy is her name.”
    I write down the name and turn my attention to the sheriff. “Do you know where the Stutz family lives?”
    He nods. “Just down the road.”
    I go back to Edna. “Is there anything else you can think of that might help us find her?”
    When the woman looks away, I turn my attention to Levi. The Amish man stares down at the tabletop. He knows something, too; I see it in the slump of his shoulders, the cord of tension in his neck. I’m sure Tomasetti and Goddard sense it as well, and the only thing we can do at this point is wait them out and hope they open up.
    For a full minute, the only sounds come from the hiss of the lantern’s wick and the ticking of the mantel clock on the shelf. Then Levi raises his gaze to mine. “She has been associating with some Englischers. ”
    Edna jerks her head his way. “Levi . . .”
    “What are their names?” I ask quickly.
    “We do not know.”
    “Does she have a boyfriend?”
    The Amish couple exchange a look I recognize. A look I’ve seen before. One I understand all too well. One I saw in the eyes of my own parents. Shame. The need to secrete away the sins of their child. I know this because I was once that sinful child. This is the question they’ve been avoiding. The answer is one they don’t want to divulge. A reality they don’t want to acknowledge. Not even between them. Certainly not to us outsiders. But I also know it’s the reason we’ve been invited into this Amish home.
    Levi tightens his lips as if against words he doesn’t want to utter. “We think the English boy was courting her.”
    “Did Annie tell you that?”
    The Amish man shakes his head. “Dan Beiler saw them together in town.”
    “Do you know the boy’s name?”
    “No.” He looks everywhere except into