Page 31 of The Hidden One

“You got a weapon on you?”

“Both of them.”

One side of his mouth curves as he hands my license and shield back to me. “I’m Kris Vance.” Now that he knows I’m not a mass murderer, he relaxes. “What are you doing out at this old place, Chief Burkholder?”

“I’m a friend of Jonas Bowman,” I tell him. “I just wanted to take a look around.”

He speaks into his radio. “Ten-twenty-four,” he says, letting the dispatcher know his assignment is complete.

“You know him?” I ask.

“I bought my kitchen cabinets from Bowman last year. He and his kids helped me install them.” He shakes his head. “Nice family. Never had him figured for something crazy.”

“Me, too.” I wipe sweat from my temple with my sleeve. “You guys probably don’t have much crime in this area.”

“Not at all. I mean, it’s pretty rural. Quiet. A lot of Amish and they keep to themselves. Those human remains were big news.”

“Same in Painters Mill,” I tell him. “Do you know much about the case?”

“Just that it was cold for a long time,” he tells me. “To tell you the truth, the brass is being kind of tight-lipped about it. Probably because there’s going to be a trial.”

He’s warming to me. Probably bored. Likable.

“Do you think Bowman did it?” I ask.

He takes the question in stride. “From what I understand, there was some kind of feud between Stoltzfus and Bowman. Sheriff’s department questioned him when the old man disappeared, but without a body…” He shrugs. “Nothing ever came of it. Then Doyle Schlabach found the bones and the case heated up quick.”

“So, investigators went back to Bowman.”

“Well, we found Bowman’s muzzleloader with the bones. That kind of sealed the deal. And, of course, Bowman doesn’t have an alibi.”

“That doesn’t help.” I look out across the field. “You guys look at anyone else?”

“Well, I’m not really involved in the case,” he tells me. “I mean, directly.”

He’s getting nervous about my asking too many questions. Once again, I’m reminded that I’m an outsider here, so I slow down, stop pushing. “I’m not trying to pressure you into telling me anything you’re not comfortable with.”

He smiles. “I appreciate that, but most of what I’ve told you is already out there for public consumption.”

“I’m just trying to sort through all of it.” I smile back. “Help the family negotiate the legal system.”

He shrugs. “Basically, everyone we talked to pointed a finger at Bowman.” He laughs. “Gotta hand it to him for being honest, though. A couple of deputies took that old muzzleloader that was found at the scene out to Bowman’s place, and he tells us right off the bat that it’s his. He didn’t try to lie or explain it away.” He shakes his head. “No offense, but if he’s trying to avoid prison, that didn’t exactly help his cause. The muzzleloader doesn’t have a serial number. Had Bowman kept his mouth shut, we probably wouldn’t have been able to prove it was his. Go figure.”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a guilty man would do,” I say.

“Maybe.” He looks at me a little more closely, sizing me up again. “You think we got the wrong guy, or what?”

I shrug, noncommittal. “I knew Jonas when he was young and I can tell you he was a good person. So when the Amish elders asked for my help, I told them I’d look into it.”

He looks past me, nodding, saying nothing.

I keep going. “Were you around when the old man went missing?”

“Naw. I was just a kid.” He laughs. “Went out with my dad and searched though. We had an ATV and looked high and low for that old dude. Everyone figured he’d fallen down and hurt himself.”

“Do you guys have a theory on what happened?” I ask. “I mean, do you think Stoltzfus left his house to meet someone? Did he run into someone he wasn’t expecting? Or was he killed in the house, his body moved?”

“No one knows for sure.”