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trucks. Out at the road, stationary red and blue rotating lights revealed even more vehicles, clusters of onlookers, and a cop directing the slow-moving traffic. It was too dark to see Nina’s parents’ house from here, but I wondered if they had received the news yet. Probably so, if not directly from the police then from nosy neighbors who were no doubt watching the scene closely, taking it all in, and spreading gossip like wildfire. Nina was about my age, but she lived in an apartment over her parents’ garage, a move she made a few years ago after her only child was killed in a car accident.
    I was about to head back inside when I noticed someone new coming onto the scene, a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, with curly hair and strong features. Obviously muscular in an hours-at-the-gym-everyday kind of way, he wasn’t my type, but I found something very compelling about him all the same. Georgia greeted him in the driveway, and as they spoke, it struck me that there was an intensity to his bearing, like a tiger about to pounce, that gave him an aura of danger and excitement. As Georgia brought him over and introduced us, I saw intensity sparkling in his eyes as well.
    His name was Mike, and he was polite and very businesslike, saying hewould need to interview me in a little while, but there were other things he had to do first. He didn’t seem happy to find me outside, close to the fringes of the activity, and he asked me to please go into the house and stay there so that I wouldn’t inadvertently contaminate the scene.
    Cops and technicians were inside as well, though, so finally I just got myself out of the way completely by sitting down in a rocking chair near the fireplace.
    Waiting for the detective to come in and start questioning me, I tried to calm my nerves by allowing my eyes to wander around the room, which we had decorated in a manner intended to delight the senses and soothe the soul. Truly, the renovation had been a labor of love, from the classic moldings around the ceiling to the understated window treatments throughout the house to the tastefully displayed gift shop area near the front window of this main room. Looking toward those gifts now, I thought how nice it would be to wrap myself up in one of the folded quilts that were part of the display. The quilts we sold were made by my Amish cousins, and just looking at their handiwork now made me smile.
    My cousin Jonah and his wife, Liesl, in particular, were two of my favorite people in the world. They lived nearby, and though we always enjoyed being together when I visited Lancaster County, we hadn’t been able to find a way to stay in touch otherwise. They didn’t text or use e-mail, and I didn’t write letters. They didn’t travel outside of the area very often, and I didn’t come out this way much anymore. About our only common ground would have been telephone conversations, but because they didn’t have a phone in their house but instead took calls from a phone booth outside, that wasn’t exactly easy, either.
    At least they were the kind of people I could go without seeing for months at a time and then pick right up with again almost exactly where we had left off the time before. My grandfather may have left the Amish faith of his youth and chosen a different path, but I had nothing but respect for the Amish people I knew. They always brought with them such a calming influence.
    When I heard two of the cops clumping down from upstairs and talking about guests, I realized it hadn’t even occurred to me that other peoplemight be here, that the three rental rooms upstairs could contain dead or unconscious or babbling bodies as well.
    Leaning forward, I listened intently to their conversation and was relieved to hear that all three rooms were empty. Still, I had to wonder why that was. The inn was almost always booked solid, so if there were no guests here tonight, there must be some reason for that. Had guests been here earlier? If