Page 58 of The Hidden One

“We looked everywhere,” Effie adds. “We couldn’t find it.”

“We think the cat ate it!” Junior cries.

Jonas clears his throat to hide his laugh. I take a sip of water to stanch my own chuckle.

Dorothy isn’t amused. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Katie doesn’t want to hear those kinds of stories while she’s eating. Missing fingers and flesh-eating cats.”

But she’s laughing, too, and soon all of us are laughing so hard we’ve got tears streaming from our eyes.

I’ve much to discuss with Jonas about the investigation, about the case against him. I want to ask him about the bones found in the water well. About Amanda Garber and Mia Stoltzfus. Levi Schmucker. Most of what we need to discuss isn’t for young ears, so I keep my impatience at bay.

When the children are finished and leave, I help Dorothy with the dishes, and while she makes coffee, I sit down across from Jonas.

“I couldn’t help but notice those marks on your neck,” he says slowly. “What happened?”

Dorothy turns and looks at me from her place at the sink, her expression telling me she’d noticed them, too.

“Someone ambushed me at the motel last night,” I tell them. “They busted out the windshield on the Explorer and slashed the tires.”

The Amish woman gasps. “What? Oh, no. Katie.”

Jonas tightens his mouth. “Did the police arrest him?”

“He got away,” I tell him.

His eyes sharpen on mine. “Do you know who it was?”

“It happened too fast. It was dark. All I know is it was a male.” I meet his gaze, taking in the concern, looking for something else, anything askew, not finding it. “He suggested I leave town.”

Jonas makes a sound of disgust. “The elders shouldn’t have asked you to come here.”

Dorothy sets cups of coffee in front of us and then takes the chair next to her husband. “You think it has something to do with your asking questions about Ananias Stoltzfus?”

“I think someone’s afraid I’m going to uncover something they prefer to keep buried.”

Dorothy looks from her husband to me as if she isn’t sure if that’s good or bad.

“You have to stop.” Jonas grimaces. “It’s too dangerous.”

Dorothy pats her husband’s hand. “He’s right. Maybe we ought to rethink all of this and try to come up with another way.”

“All it means is that I’m on the right track.” The couple exchange a grave look, so I add, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a cop. I know how to handle myself. I’m armed. If it happens again, I’ll be ready.”

When neither of them responds, I pick up my cup and sip. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t public knowledge, so I’m going to ask you to keep it to yourselves. Will you do that?”

“Of course,” Jonas replies.

Dorothy nods.

I tell them about the human hand bones found in the well. “The police sent the remains to the lab for DNA analysis, but they believe they belong to Ananias Stoltzfus.”

“Mein Gott.” Dorothy presses her hand against her breast. “Reuben was right.”

Jonas’s brows knit. “But the bishop’s body was found in the field. How could his hands end up here?”

I lay out the most likely theory for the removal of the hands. The couple don’t press, but even they know the explanation doesn’t quite fit.

“How long have the bones been in the well?” Jonas asks.