Page 42 of Sworn to Silence
Cutting the wheel, I hit the gas and head out of town. I know better than to approach Benjamin Lapp at this hour. Cops have protocol and rules of conduct they are bound to follow, one of them being you don’t knock on doors at one o’clock in the morning. But if anyone knows the whereabouts of Daniel Lapp, it’s his brother. Because he’s Amish, I feel reasonably certain he won’t run screaming “police brutality” to the town council in the morning.
East of town I turn onto Miller-Grove Road. The Lapp place is midway to the dead end and down a long and winding lane. Unlike most Amish farms, this one is unkempt. The moon illuminates a barn with a swayback roof. Grass as high as a man’s hips pokes out through the snow. I park adjacent to the workshop, remove my Mag-Lite and head toward the front door.
I don’t feel as if I’m in danger, but I thumb the snap off my holster. A cop can never be too cautious, even among pacifists. I open the storm door, knock loudly and wait. When that doesn’t rouse Lapp, I use the flashlight against the wood. The sound is thunderous in the stark silence.
A few minutes later, a yellow light flickers inside. I step back and aside, my hand resting on my .38. The door swings open. Holding a lantern, Benjamin Lapp squints at me as if I just beamed down from another planet.
“Katie Burkholder?”
Even in the dim light, the likeness of the two brothers gives me pause. A chill chases gooseflesh down my arms. I see light blue eyes. Brown hair shorn into a jagged cut. The same thin mouth and jutting chin. A flash of memory almost sends me back a step, but I will away the slow rise of revulsion.
“I need to ask you some questions, Benjamin.”
Because he is unmarried, Benjamin is clean-shaven. He wears trousers with suspenders hanging down and a shirt that’s only partially tucked. Wool socks cover his feet.
“Is there a problem? It is very late.”
I shove my badge at him. He stares at it as if he’s suddenly lost his ability to read. “This won’t wait.”
He blinks at me. “What is this about?”
“Your brother.”
“Daniel?” His eyes widen. “Do you have news of him?”
“Do you?” I push past him.
Stepping back, he watches me as if I’m some dangerous animal that’s ventured out of the woods. The house smells of wet dog and cow shit. The darkened kitchen is straight ahead. A shadowy hall beckons to my right. Beyond, stairs lead to the second floor.
“When’s the last time you saw Daniel?” I ask.
Another blink, owlish and sleepy. “A very long time.”
“How long?”
“I haven’t seen him since the summer he disappeared. Over fifteen years, I think.”
I stare hard at him. “You sure about that? He hasn’t been here or in town?”
“I am certain of it.”
“Has he contacted you?”
“No.”
“Have you sent him money?”
His brows knit.
“Don’t lie to me, Benjamin. I can check.”
“Why do you ask these things? Do you have news of Daniel?”
Ignoring his question, I step closer, letting some attitude slip into my voice.
“You know better than to lie to the police, don’t you?”
“I do not lie.”
