“Did he have a girlfriend?”
He sighs. “Chief Burkholder, you can ask the same question twenty different ways, but you’re always going to get the same answer. I don’t know Nolt. I never did. If you want to know something about him, maybe you should talk to the Mennonites.”
One of the men standing behind him chuckles, but I ignore him and focus on Kaufman. “What about your sister?” I ask.
“Abigail? What about her?”
“I heard she knew Leroy. I heard they were friends. Close friends.”
His reaction is subtle—fingers opening and closing, mouth tightening into a more pronounced frown—telling me the mention of his sister hit a nerve.
“You misunderstood.” His voice is level and calm, but he can’t quite conceal the annoyance in his eyes. “Abby has been with Jeramy since they were kids.”
I wait, but he says nothing, staring at me as if he’s considering ordering me off his property.
“All right, Mr. Kaufman.” Nodding, I move as if to leave, then I pause and look around the barn. “Did you ever raise hogs here on your farm?”
“Never cared for hogs.” He motions with his eyes to the small herd of cattle in the pen. “Always had cows.”
I look past him, where two more calves are in a tiny pen, awaiting their turn for castration. I see the outline of the knife in Kaufman’s pocket. Bloodstains on his hands. “I’ll let you get back to work then.” I make eye contact with the other two men and start toward the door.
Skid waits until we’re back in the Crown Vic before speaking. “I’ve seen some disturbing shit since I’ve been a cop, Chief, but I swear seeing that Amish dude cut off that calf’s balls takes the cake.”
I slant him a look. “I thought you were looking a little green around the gills.”
“He didn’t use an anesthetic. Seems kind of medieval.”
“I take it you’re not up for Rocky Mountain oysters for lunch? I know a place in Millersburg.…”
He groans.
*
A few minutes later, I make the turn onto County Road 600. Left and right, row after row of corn stretches as far as the eye can see. We pass an Amish boy walking barefoot along the shoulder, bamboo fishing pole in hand.
“Kind of reminds me of that movie Children of the Corn,” Skid says.
I wave at the kid. He doesn’t wave back. “If I recall, that one doesn’t end well for the two main characters.”
“Probably would have had a happier ending if they’d been packing.”
I turn into the lane of Reuben Kaufman’s farm, park in a spot that’s just out of view from the house, and get out. Birdsong echoes off the treetops. The smells of fresh-cut grass and the faint odor of livestock rides a gentle breeze. A few yards away, half a dozen hens cluck and scratch at the ground. The house is built on a hill with views in all directions. From where I’m standing I can see the cornfields at the front of the property. At the rear, the land dips to a low area overgrown with saplings and brush and, farther, thick woods.
I take a closer look at the two barns as I start toward the house. The one nearest the house is the smaller of the two and not terribly old. The one in the rear is an ancient structure built into the side of the hill. The front sliding door stands open. Inside, I can just make out the silhouette of a wagon heaped with hay.
“You know, Chief, sometimes I swear I think the Amish have it right,” Skid says.
“And then you remember how much you like tequila and realize it’s just a pipe dream.”
I’m smiling when I step onto the porch and knock. I hear footfalls inside. The door opens about a foot and Naomi Kaufman appears. She doesn’t look happy to see me.
“Hi, Mrs. Kaufman,” I begin.
“Hello.” Her eyes slide from me to Skid.
He tips his head at her. “Officer Skidmore, ma’am.”
She shifts her attention back to me without acknowledging him. “What do you want?”
“Do you have a few minutes, Mrs. Kaufman? I’d like to ask you a few more questions about that old case I’m working on.”
“What questions?”
“May we come inside, ma’am?”
“No, I don’t think you can,” she tells me. “I’m cleaning windows and I don’t see how I can help you with something I know nothing about.”
I remind myself that talking to her is secondary to getting inside that bank barn with a metal detector, so I’m not unduly perturbed by her refusal. “How is your son-in-law doing?”
She shrugs, her expression conveying worry. “He’s very sick. The doctor’s running tests and trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. I’ve been praying for him. Abigail, too.”
I nod. “I talked to Abigail.”
Her eyes sharpen on mine.
“She admitted to knowing Leroy Nolt. I thought you should know.” I pause. “In case you remembered something and wanted to tell me.”
“A lot of young people get to know other young people, during Rumspringa and such. All that running around. I don’t see what I could tell you about that.”
“Did you ever meet Leroy?”