Despite only tepid air from the SUV’s heater, sweat formed under Cassie’s arms. Heat billowed through her. Words disappeared. Her mind went blank. “Wh-aa-t? I mean . . .”

  “I’m sorry to be so blunt.” His face was as ruddy as an overripe tomato. “Perry said something weird when we talked on the phone. It made me think maybe there was another reason my mom left Haven when she did.”

  His cheeks turned a deep scarlet that eventually engulfed his neck and his ears. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “You think she was in a family way?”

  “With me. Yes.”

  “What did your uncle say?”

  “He said I was more Amish than I know. I always assumed my father was a regular guy and that’s why she left. If he was Amish, she could’ve stayed and they could’ve gotten married. Mom wouldn’t talk about it at all. The other kids know who their dads are. I’m the only one who doesn’t.”

  Mason had a reason for telling her this family secret. “Perry didn’t say who it was?”

  “No. He hit me with that zinger and hung up.”

  Twenty-three years was a long time. Georgia’s beau could be any one of dozens of men, now married, moved away, or even dead like Georgia. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You wanted me to get Perry to come here, and I’m willing to keep trying.” Mason wiggled in his seat as if he was trying to get comfortable. “But I need something from you. I need you to see if Dinah knows who my dad is. Or someone else. You folks all know each other. I bet the gossip was hot and heavy back then. Your mom might even know.”

  If she did, she wouldn’t want to talk about it. Not with Cassie, anyway. “It’s true there’s a grapevine, but this was a long time ago. Before I was even born. We truly try not to gossip. Your mom may have left before anyone had a chance to know.”

  “Don’t you think she told the father?”

  “Not if she planned to leave instead of marrying him.” Cassie could only guess how scared and trapped Georgia must have felt. She and her beau—if he was Plain, as Perry had suggested—could’ve gone to the bishop and confessed their sin of fornication, done a kneeling confession, and suffered a period of shunning before being forgiven. Then they would’ve been allowed to have a small, quiet wedding and move on with their lives. Georgia hadn’t wanted that. “Maybe Perry’s wrong and he was English.”

  “I need to know.” Mason’s voice turned husky. “Can you understand that? If my dad is still around, I want to know him.”

  “I can understand that.” But could she help him? Cassie grasped for bits of hope she could offer Mason. “I’m willing to ask Dinah, but I can’t ask my mother. She’d be horrified that I had this conversation with you.”

  “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?” He smoothed the wheel with both hands. “Every kid should at the very least know who his dad is or was. It might be too late to have him in my life, but at least I can know who he is, what kind of man he is.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “I’ll stay after Perry.”

  Cassie leaned her head against the window’s cool glass. She was tempted to open it and stick her head out until the conversation blew away.

  “Are you all right?”

  She straightened. “What will you say to Bobby when you find him?”

  “I get it. Changing the subject.” Mason adjusted the rearview mirror. Then he fiddled with a knob on the dashboard. “Bobby should be living with me. He’s practically an adult, but he’s still a kid too. With lots of hormones thrown in. I can see how he might get his wires crossed, you know, misunderstand signals.”

  “There were no signals.” Cassie longed to shove open the door and escape. “None. I would never—”

  “I’m not saying you would.” He took one hand from the wheel and rubbed the stubble on his red face. “In fact, I know you wouldn’t. You’re not like that. Plus there’s the whole religion thing.”

  “A deeper faith in God might help him get through this difficult season in his life. You, too, if you let it.” Cassie touched the cool window glass as she sought the right words. She wasn’t saying them for herself. But for a mixed-up teenager and his older brother. Gott, You are my witness.

  “You should come to one of our services. You could stay after and eat with other folks from Haven. Give us a chance. Get to know us.”

  Bryan would allow Mason to attend. Cassie was sure of it. He was Job’s grandson. His mother was Plain. Whether it would help was an entirely different pit of quicksand. The church elders conducted portions of the service in High German and the rest in Pennsylvania Dutch. Neither of which Mason would understand. The service lasted three hours, long enough to wear even a Plain person down.

  Mason tapped on the wheel for several seconds, but he finally nodded. “It’s not right for me to form an opinion about something I really don’t know anything about.”

  A church service was only the beginning, but Cassie would take it. “I’ll tell Job you’re interested. He’ll talk to Bryan and the other elders about it.”

  “Changing my mind won’t help with Bobby. He’s old enough to have his own opinions.”

  “But he’s influenced by you. He wants your approval.”

  Mason nodded again, but his smile was tight. “I’m the closest thing he’s ever had to a father.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure.” It also said a lot about who Mason was. He didn’t flinch from the burden. He would be a good father to his own children one day. The thought pressed into Cassie’s heart, seeking entry. She closed the door hard. He might have an Amish mother, even an Amish father, but he was English. She didn’t dare risk her heart.

  Her heart seemed to have other ideas. Gott, help me. “They all love you. They want to please you. You’ve done a good job.”

  “Maybe. Bobby’s been a runner for years. Kevin is stuck in the middle. He doesn’t know which way to go or who to trust. Kathy has never been a little girl. Donny is scared of his own shadow. Jennie loves anyone who pays attention to her more than two seconds.” Mason’s face filled with regret laced with sadness. “There’s still a chance for the younger ones to have a real childhood. But Bobby has one foot out the door all the time. He wants to be a cop. To do that he needs to go to college. I want that for him. I never wanted to go myself, but if that’s what he wants, I want him to have his dream.”

  They’d arrived at Cassie’s parents’ home. Cassie undid her seat belt, but she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. Not with the sound of Mason’s voice—his sad, sad voice—ringing in her ears. The children would have a chance at a real childhood with Job and Dinah, but saying so now might only add to Mason’s sense of failure. He was too hard on himself. He never had a childhood either. Her heart wanted her to touch his hand, give him a hug, tell him he’d done well. Her brain scrambled to throw up roadblocks to that dangerous path. Think about something else! “What’s your dream?”

  “Book learning was never my thing. I couldn’t wait to get out of school. I’m good with my hands.” He ducked his head and smiled. “I want to own my own construction and rehab business. I want to buy old houses, renovate them, and flip them.”

  “Flip them?”

  “Sell them. It’s hard work, but it’s honest work. I like the idea of taking something that’s falling apart and making it whole again instead of tearing it down and starting over. A lot of the old houses around here have solid bones; they just need TLC.”

  His enthusiasm tickled her. It also made her hope that he would achieve his dream. Who did Mason rely on? Who made sure he had his chance at happiness? Instead he’d been father to five kids. Mason had made sacrifices. Had he sacrificed love? Did he want children of his own?

  Ignoring the painful ache in the vicinity of her heart, Cassie held her tongue. “Mind your p’s and q’s, child.” That would be her mother’s voice. Cassie’s father opened the front door and stared out at them. “We’d better get in there. It’ll be dark soon and that much harder to search.”

  “After I talk to your dad, I’m calling the sheriff’s department.”

  That wouldn’t go over well with the bishop, but Mason had no reason to abide by the bishop’s wishes. Especially with CFS’s intervention on the horizon. “You have to do what you think is right.”

  “Darn straight.”

  As soon as Cassie hopped from the SUV, Father moved to the porch and let the door shut behind him. He nodded now and then during Cassie’s recitation regarding the day’s events. He lifted his wool hat from his head, ran one calloused hand over his bald pate, and resettled the hat. “I’ll head to the phone shack and make the call. Then I’ll go to Job’s. Cassie, you go on inside.”

  His edict wasn’t unexpected, but Cassie had held on to hope the entire drive. “Daed, I want to go with Mason—”

  “Go inside, Cassie.”

  “If I can’t go with Mason, at least let me go back to Job’s with you.”

  “Tomorrow. Stay in your own room tonight.”

  Banished, just like that. “Dinah will need me.”

  “You’ll go back tomorrow. After I talk to Job.”

  “It was my idea—”

  “Go.”

  She went.

  Chapter 21

  The Amish were like throwbacks to the Puritans or maybe even the Victorians. Like Mason knew much about either group. History hadn’t been his best subject. Cassie’s cheeks were scarlet and her head down, but she went. Had his mother been in a similar situation many moons ago with Job and decided to bail rather than put up with being smothered?

  Mason shifted from one work boot to the other. He would have to wrap his brain around this one later. The sun was setting. He needed to get moving. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get Cassie in trouble. I think she’s right. Bobby might respond better to her than one of us. She has a soft touch—I mean, not literally. Figuratively, I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.” Leroy Weaver eased toward the steps. “I’d better make that call and get over to Job’s. I’ll tell him you’re planning to drive the route back to Yoder to search for Bobby. Stores will be closing soon—it’s a little town. Not much nightlife.”

  In other words, move along quickly. “If I don’t find him, I’m calling 911. They’ll treat it as a missing person. They won’t waste any time coming out to Job’s.”

  “I’ll let Bryan—the bishop—and your grandfather know.” Leroy stalked down the steps. “We’ll help you find your brother safe and sound.”

  In other words, no need to involve law enforcement. “Thank you. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  Leroy waved one hand and kept walking. “You didn’t.”

  “Good.”

  With a shrug Mason strode back to the Blazer. He got in and started it. The engine sputtered and died. Come on, stay with me. I can’t afford to replace you right now. Come on. Two tries later, the engine caught and putted but didn’t die. Thank you.

  He took South Haven Road to Lake Cable Road to South Kent Road, scanning the landscape, hoping to see Bobby standing on the side of the road waiting for a ride. God willing, no one had given him one. It didn’t seem likely a child predator roamed these Kansas back roads, but then, no one ever thought he’d be the victim of a crime of opportunity.

  Mason had seen too many teen horror flicks. Stop freaking yourself out, dude. Trying to ferret out shapes in the shadows, he scanned from one side of the road to the other in the gathering dusk.

  Nothing.

  No skinny kid in holey jeans, cowboy boots, and an oversized, fleece-lined jean jacket hung around the intersection of South Kent Road and Highway 96.

  At the Quick Stop, the gangly attendant with the biggest Adam’s apple Mason had ever seen cocked his head and shrugged after listening to the description. “I don’t think so, dude, but I just came on duty about an hour ago.”

  “If you see him, tell him his brother said to get his sorry behind back to the Keims’.”

  “Will do, brother.”

  In Yoder, population 777, some of the businesses, which mostly catered to the Amish tourism trade, had closed for the day, as Leroy had said. The most happening place seemed to be the Carriage House Restaurant and Bakery. Even there, cars parked outside were few and far between. Mason picked a spot in between a minivan and a buggy and went inside.

  A hostess in Amish clothes seemed delighted to see him and offered him a menu. Mason shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m searching for my brother.” He went through the same spiel with her as he had the clerk. “It’s a long shot, I know. He probably doesn’t have a dime in his pocket to eat at a place like this.”

  No spark of recognition flared when he showed her the photo. “Sorry, sir. We get lots of folks in here. I don’t remember him.”

  Lots of English folks, she meant.

  “Thanks anyway.”

  “I hope you find him.”

  Mason murmured his thanks and strode back to the Blazer. This was a stupid waste of time. Regardless of what he’d told the Keims, Mason needed to call 911. He made the call and told the dispatcher he would meet the sheriff’s deputy on patrol at the Keims’.

  Twenty minutes later he was back at their doorstep. Two buggies and a tractor were parked in the Keims’ wide gravel driveway. Mason took a spot behind the tractor. A minute later a dark-blue SUV with Reno County Sheriff’s Patrol Division displayed on the driver’s door pulled in next to him.

  A sheriff’s deputy in a blue uniform slid out immediately. Mason went to meet him.

  “How long has the minor been missing?” The deputy, who identified himself as Doug Waters, had the grizzled face of a man closing in on retirement. He barely allowed for introductions before he cut to the chase. “Are you his guardian?”

  Mason checked the time on his phone. “We don’t know exactly, but somewhere in the range of four to five hours. I’m his oldest brother—half brother.”

  Waters started toward the front door. “Where are your parents? Inside?”

  “Wait. It’s a complicated situation.”

  The deputy halted and pointed to the buggies. “If Amish folks are involved, I assume it will be, but the sooner we have all the facts, the sooner we find your brother.”

  Mason explained as succinctly as possible. Waters had the poker face down. “The Amish are reluctant to get law enforcement involved.” He moved once again toward the house. “But CFS isn’t. Call the caseworker. She needs to know ASAP. I’ll talk to the grandparents.”

  Mason didn’t want to call Mrs. Blanchard. Not yet. If she decided to yank the kids out of the Keims’ house, she might decide he couldn’t have them back either. Especially since he still hadn’t found a house nearby that he could afford to rent.

  Mason followed the deputy inside. Half a dozen men in black wool coats and black hats, including Bryan, milled around in the living room. Job sat with Dinah on the couch. The rest of the kids were nowhere in sight. Bryan stepped forward. “We didn’t call the sheriff’s department. We’re organizing our own search party, Deputy.” It was a statement, not open to discussion. He expected the deputy to listen to him. “We appreciate you coming here, but I have no doubt we’ll find him. If we don’t, we’ll ask for your help.”

  “Who are you?” Deputy Waters seemed unfazed by the peremptory dismissal. If he dealt with the Amish much, he was likely used to it. He consulted his notebook. “I need to speak to the grandparents. Job and Dinah Keim.”

  “Here.” Job stood and came forward. “That’s Bryan Miller, our bishop. Bobby is our grandson.”

  “In the case of missing minors, we like to move immediately, Mr. Keim.” Deputy Waters tapped his pen on his notebook. “First I’d like to know the circumstances of his decision to leave home. I also need what he was wearing, any friends he might go to, anything you can tell me that will help us track him down.”

  “It’s my fault.” Job hesitated. He rolled his shoulders and pulled at his collar. “I needed to school him in obedience—”

  “Did you hit him?”

  “No.” Job pressed his lips together. His eyes went cold. “We do use corporal punishment when needed, but I wouldn’t do that with a boy his age. I told him he had to stay in the barn until he cleaned it to my satisfaction.”

  “That’s all well and good, but I understand this is a teenager brought up by non-Amish parents, Mr. Keim.”

  “Job.”

  “Job. So I’m just trying to understand what went down.”

  “It may be that Bobby left because he felt . . . rejected. He seemed to have developed feelings for Cassie, our housekeeper. She’s twenty-two and unmarried.” The discomfort on Job’s face deepened. “Of course that’s not something that could be encouraged. His feelings might have been hurt.”

  Everyone in the room seemed to be chewing on this new piece of information, except the deputy. “Teenage boys have tender egos. I raised three myself, so I know. Where do you think he would go?”

  Job’s attention, along with everyone else’s, shifted to Mason.

  He put up both hands like stop signs. “He usually—”

  “He’s done this before?”

  “Many times, but this is the first time for the Keims. Before, he was in Wichita, in familiar surroundings.” Mason forced himself to stand still. No fidgeting like a kid in the principal’s office. Before, verbal abuse and hitting had been involved. Bobby had reason to run. “But it’s a pattern, still, I guess you could say.”

  “Where do you think he’ll go?”

  The wind whistled through the eaves of the old house while Mason grappled with the question. Bobby had a few friends at his old school, but Mason had no idea who they were. His brother didn’t bring them to the house. None of the kids did. It was too embarrassing. He hung out at a diner down the street or the closest skateboarding park. He and his friends went to the dollar movies when the weather was bad. “I don’t know the names of his friends, but I can give you a list of places he used to go. He’s been here for the last two months, so it’s been a while. What about an Amber Alert? Can we do that?”