Page 18 of The Hidden One

“I know that sounds odd, but it’s true.”

“Did you file a police report?”

He gives me an are-you-kidding look. “I did not want to speak to the police, especially about a gun. I knew they suspected me of wrongdoing. I forgot about it.”

The muzzleloader found at the scene is damning, particularly since, according to the newspaper stories I read online, the victim sustained two gunshot wounds. Only one large-caliber round ball—the kind of ammo used in a black-powder rifle—was found at the scene.

“Do you have any idea who might’ve taken the gun?” I ask.

“No.”

“Who knew it was there?”

“It was in plain sight, I think.” He shrugs. “We kept it in the corner, out in the mudroom. Anyone who visited would walk right by it.”

I think about that a moment. “Jonas, do you have any idea who might’ve killed Stoltzfus? Did he have any disagreements with anyone else? Amish or English?”

“All I can tell you about the bishop is that he was strict. Some Amish were okay with that. Others…” He ends the statement with a shrug.

Another pause ensues while I mentally file away everything that’s been said. “Is there anyone who might want to see you get into trouble?”

“There is no one who would do such a thing.”

The statement is naïve. But I’ve been around the Amish enough to realize he likely believes it. The problem is that while the Amish are nonviolent and generally make good neighbors, they’re subject to all the same frailties as the rest of us.

“Do you have an attorney?” I ask.

“I’m innocent, Katie. I don’t need one. Lawyers charge a lot of money and I’m capable of speaking for myself.”

“The legal system is complicated,” I tell him.

“The truth is simple.”

“They’re going to assign you a public defender,” I tell him. “Will you at least work with him? Let him help you?”

“If you think it’s important, I’ll do it.” He studies me a moment. “I would like to go home. With my family. I’ve got a woodworking business to run. Customers who’ll be expecting their cabinets or whatnot.”

I don’t point out that his woodworking business is the least of his worries. “What about bail?” I ask. “Are you trying to raise bail?”

“I don’t know anything about bail.”

I think about the teenager I knew a lifetime ago. I think about everything I know regarding the case and I’m a hell of a lot more troubled now than when I walked into this room.

“I’ll look into it,” I tell him.

“All right.”

“Jonas, is there anything else you can tell me that might help me find out what happened to Ananias Stoltzfus?”

He considers the question, then shakes his head. “Most of the Amish thought he was a good bishop, Katie. But like I said, he was heavy-handed and set in his Old Order ways. He wasn’t open to change. Sometimes he took things too far. Like with Datt. Ananias wasn’t always fair, but no one wished him ill.”

Someone did, a little voice whispers.

I think about my own experiences growing up Amish. “What about excommunications?” I ask.

“You know as well as I do that most Amish straighten up when the bishop gets involved.” His thoughts seem to turn inward. “There were two I can think of that didn’t end well. Roman Miller and Duane Mullet. Neither man could change their ways and left.”

“Do you know what happened?” I ask.