Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One by Shelley Shepard Gray Page B

they stopped in front of a trio of crosses, he spoke again. “I still believe that it will.”
    “You sure you want to bet on that? I’m costing you time.”
    “Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, if you don’t help me, what else are you going to do while you recuperate? Sit in front of the TV and watch Sports Center?”
    Luke had no doubt that his friend had used the TV reference on purpose. Back at the academy when they were roommates, they’d watched endless hours of Sports Center when their bodies were too tired to take another step and their minds were too tired to study another law, citation, or procedure.
    Mose had only been two years out of his Amish community, and still had an almost whimsical appreciation for all things ESPN. He’d grown as attached to Sports Center as any preschooler with Dora the Explorer. In a way, the two of them had bonded while watching it.
    Luke was just about to tell Mose that not even that reminder could soften his stance when nearby a pair of teenagers opened a truck’s back cab, and stealthily pulled out a couple of six-packs of beer and not very discretely stuffed them under their hoodies. The high school’s name was proudly printed on those sweatshirts, practically beckoning any and all law-enforcement officers to crack down on underage drinking.
    Seeing the kids act so foolishly—and knowing he could do something about it—almost gave Luke a rush of pleasure. “Guess we could go take care of some business, huh?”
    A slow smile lit Mose’s face while they watched yet another two kids scurry out of the truck, one with what looked to be a full bottle of Kentucky bourbon nestled in his arms like a baby. “Your leg up for it? This could get squirrely.”
    He patted his brace. “I’m up for it, no problem.”
    “Then I’d be obliged.” Raising his voice, Mose called out, “Boys, you want to tell me what in the Sam Hill you’re doing?”
    Luke groaned as the kids started running. “Somehow, I figured they’d do that. I got the one on the right.”
    “You’re only taking one?”
    “I’m good, but I’m injured.”
    “Oh, fine.” As they all took off, Mose called out, “Jeremy? Is that you?”
    A pause, then a hoarse, squeaky reply floated through the air. “Yes, sir.”
    Some things never changed, Luke thought to himself as he picked up his pace and grabbed the boy on the right. “Don’t even think about tackling me, son,” he said as clearly as possible. “If you make me be on crutches again, you’ll be arrested for assault on a police officer.”
    Only later, after the boys had been taken to the police station, parents had been summoned, and more than a little fear had been put into a pair of fifteen-year-olds, did Mose bring up Perry again.
    “I know he was dealing, Luke,” Mose said, his voice heavy with certainty. “I know he was dealing, and he was making a whole lot of people in this community miserable while he was selling that poison to them. I want to know what he was doing, and I want to know who thought they were justified in killing him. Someone was really angry. Someone was angry enough to kill the kid and stuff him in a well. I want to know who did it, Luke. I want to know it enough to risk everything.”
    He paused, then looked at Luke directly. “I want to know these answers so badly that I’m willing to tell you I can’t do it alone. Please, don’t go.”
    It was the “please” that did it. Mose had been raised Amish, and therefore came across as naturally self-effacing. But he was also a talented professional. He wasn’t the kind of man to show weakness, especially not in his career.
    His friend needed him, and he believed in him. For the moment, that was enough. “I’ll go visit with his parents tomorrow. Again.”
    “That sounds like a fine idea,” Mose murmured. “That sounds like a real good idea. I’m obliged, Luke.”
    “Don’t be grateful yet; I haven’t done anything.”
    “But you will. I’m certain of