Page 71 of The Hidden One

“Bowman wasn’t the only one who wanted Stoltzfus gone. They all did.”

“Who?”

“Everyone hated him, including Yoder. Don’t let them lie to you. They’re covering for Bowman.”

“Tell me who you are,” I say.

Nothing.

“Why should I believe you?” I ask.

The hiss of a breath and then, “Because I was there, too.”

“Who is this?” I demand.

A resonant click sounds and the call ends.

Exasperated, I toss the phone, watch it clatter onto the table. I sit there a moment, not sure what to make of the call. Is it an anonymous tip that warrants follow-up? Or is someone yanking my chain? Trying to convince me Jonas is guilty? That there’s a witness? Deflect my attention to Yoder? Something else?

Nelson Yoder knows the truth.

If the bishop knows something about the case, why didn’t he mention it? Why would he travel to Painters Mill to ask for my help? It doesn’t make sense.

Cursing beneath my breath, I pick up my phone and look at the incoming number. Local. I hit the Call button. It rings a dozen times, but no one picks up. I go to my laptop, enter the number into a reputable reverse phone lookup site. To my surprise, the call originated at an Amish pay phone right here in Belleville.

CHAPTER 21

If Ananias Stoltzfus had secrets, he did a damn good job of keeping them hidden. I’ve discovered a slew of peculiarities about the bishop and his wife, but zero in terms of anything concrete that might explain what happened to him or why.

Between the phone call and frustration stemming from my lack of progress, I didn’t sleep much last night. I researched Ananias and Mia Stoltzfus. Harmony, Minnesota. I looked at Mary Elizabeth Hershberger. Henry Stoltzfus. I even spent some time delving into the lives of the three elders who brought me into the investigation. Nelson Yoder, the bishop. Nathan Kempf, the deacon. And Mahlon Barkman, the minister. There isn’t much out there. No criminal records. No legal issues or lawsuits. No drama. Even in terms of the Amish, they lead quiet lives.

I wrote down everything I could remember about the call.

I got proof Jonas Bowman killed Ananias Stoltzfus.

Nelson Yoder knows the truth. He was there the night Stoltzfus was killed.

Bowman wasn’t the only one who wanted Stoltzfus gone. They all did.

Everyone hated him, including Yoder. Don’t let them lie to you. They’re covering for Bowman.

I said: Why should I believe you?

… I was there, too.

The statements are not random. They’re bold and specific. The caller claimed Yoder hated Stoltzfus. That there were others who wanted him dead. He admitted to witnessing the murder. It’s a troubling notion, but is it possible the murder was some kind of concerted effort? With the days slipping by and my making little in the way of progress, I’m bound to follow up.

Nelson Yoder and his wife live in a heavily wooded area high on the ridge. As I make the turn into their driveway, a sign welcomes me to Yoder’s Harness Repair. I take the sidewalk to the front door, which opens to a reception area furnished with a sofa, chairs, and a coffee table piled with magazines. A woman stands at the counter, her nose buried in a paperback novel. Through the doorway behind her, I see the bishop sitting at a sewing bench, running a big black sewing machine.

“Can I help you?” asks the woman.

I introduce myself. “I’m looking for the bishop.”

She calls out to him in a loud voice, and I’m reminded that he’s hard of hearing. “Mir hen Englischer bsuch ghadde!” We have a non-Amish visitor.

The old man finishes his stitching, then struggles to his feet and hobbles to the doorway. “I’m hard of hearing, not dead.” He turns his attention to me. “Kate Burkholder. You come with news?”

“Just a few questions, Bishop.”