It is late at night in 1985, and if you drive west from the small town of Gap, PA, on Newport Road, the fields are dark. After you go over the first hill, you can’t see the lights from the little league baseball diamond anymore. Soon, you drive past the one-room, Amish schoolhouse on the left, then up over another sharp hill, and by now the night has swallowed you completely. You can barely see the outline of the trees. If there would be a moon, it would shine bright as a single headlight. It would glance off the creek as you go over the bridge and slow to make a right-hand turn. But there is no moon, not tonight, and every time you slow the car, you can feel the darkness press in for a closer look. Keep driving. I want to show you something. You thought you were on a back road already, but you turn right on to South New Holland Road, and now the road is barely two lanes wide with no line in the middle. Again, the darkness gathers, both warm and scary. Soon the road sweeps to the left, to the northwest, but you…