Sheriff Richard Lawson, a calm and experienced officer who had served the county for nearly twenty years, entered the farmhouse and immediately felt that something was wrong.
But he could not explain why. There were no damaged doors. No broken windows.
No overturned furniture. Nothing suggested a fight or sudden struggle.
Everything appeared almost perfectly ordinary. The beds had been carefully made.
A loaf of bread rested on the kitchen counter, still cooling. Jacob’s black hat remained hanging from its usual wooden peg beside the door.
The entire house looked as though the family had simply stood up after breakfast and walked away without taking anything with them.
Rumors began almost immediately. Some people claimed Jacob had fallen into debt and secretly moved his family somewhere far away.
Others feared there had been an accident. Perhaps their wagon had overturned along an isolated road.
Perhaps something had happened near Killbuck Creek. Search parties examined the roads, fields, woods, and waterways.
No wagon tracks were discovered. No belongings were recovered. No bodies appeared.
And there was no farewell note. Because the Millers owned no automobile, used no telephone, and maintained no conventional bank accounts, they had left almost no trail for investigators outside the Amish community to follow.
