Page 78 of The Burning

“Mr. Neufeld, would it be possible for you to keep this conversation private?” Even if he agrees, I know he may not keep his word. Still, it’s good policy to ask so that he understands the nature of our discussion.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” I take a moment to get my words in order. “I interviewed an Amish person with regard to this case and they mentioned the Schwertler Anabaptists. I don’t know if there’s a connection, but I thought it was worth looking into.”

He nods. “The burning of a man at the stake is, indeed, symbolic in terms of the persecution of the Anabaptists,” he says. “It is not, however, symbolic in terms of the Schwertler Anabaptists.”

“Because the Schwertlers believed in the ‘of the sword’ philosophy only when it was in the hands of a benign government.”

“Exactly.”

As I work to process the information, my cop’s mind considers all the dark corners of the homicidal mentality. “Is it possible we could be dealing with some bastardized version of the group?”

For the first time, he looks troubled, as if we’ve ventured into an area in which he’s not quite comfortable. He covers his discomfiture with a chuckle. “That’s a little out of my bailiwick.”

“In the course of your Anabaptist studies, have you ever come across any information on ritual or symbolic murder?” I ask. “Modern day or historic?”

He sighs. “I’m a religious man, Chief Burkholder. A student of history. As brutal as some of that history is, I’m a wimp when it comes to true crime.” He laughs. “That stuff’s too dark for me. That said, there are times when history and crime overlap and my curiosity gets the best of me.” He looks down at his desktop. “I recall reading about a murder in an Amish settlement in Canada. Milverton in Ontario, I believe.”

I write it down. “What happened?”

“It was back in the 1950s, I think. An Amish man was accused of killing two of his children. I don’t recollect the details of the case, but the police were involved. And at some point during the investigation, the man disappeared.”

“How does a case like that relate in any way to the Schwertler Anabaptists?” I ask.

“Everyone assumed this man had run away to avoid capture and stay out of jail. But that spring, his body was recovered from a lake a few miles from his farm. There was a rock secured to his neck.”

“Foul play?” I ask. “Or suicide?”

“If memory serves me, his death occurred in the dead of winter. The lake was frozen and authorities surmised a hole had been chopped in the ice. Most of the Amish believed it was suicide.”

“Seems like an odd way to commit suicide.”

“Indeed.” His eyes meet mine. “I don’t believe the police ever figured it out. I’m sure you see the correlation.”

“Elizabeth Hubmaier.”

He nods.

“So, in your opinion, the Schwertler Anabaptists existed.”

“For a time.”

“How long?”

He smiles tiredly at the open-ended question. “I’m afraid that’s beyond my area of expertise, Chief Burkholder. The history we know is based on events that were documented and verified.”

“Is it possible the Schwertler Anabaptists still exist?”

“I don’t see how. As you well know, violence is renounced by all Anabaptists, particularly the Amish. Even in times of war, they are conscientious objectors.” He shrugs. “I think it’s safe for us to assume the Schwertler Anabaptists are nothing more than a dark chapter of our history—and rightfully so.”

CHAPTER 20

It’s fully dark by the time I leave the center and start toward the Explorer. I’m lost in thought as I walk down the steps and start across the parking lot. Everything the director told me swirls in my head like some morose, Middle Ages–set movie as I open the driver’s-side door and slide behind the wheel.

“Schwertler” translates loosely to “of the sword.”

… wrote a manuscript called On the Sword …