Page 87 of The Hidden One

“I think he was in the military. In some capacity.”

“You know as well as I do an Amish man would not fight. He would not kill.”

It’s a true statement. The Amish are pacifistic; they eschew any kind of violence. “I think he was a soldier.” I tap my nail against the photo on the screen. “I think this badge belonged to Ananias. I don’t know how or why, but he made some kind of contribution to the war. And he was rewarded for it.”

“Why are you telling me all of these things?”

“I’m getting to that,” I say. “How well do you know your history?”

He looks away. “Just what I learned in school.…”

Which means if he hasn’t read up on world history as an adult, he probably isn’t well versed. “I think Ananias and Mia were from Germany.”

He stares at me, saying nothing.

I continue, “They were living in Germany during World War II. As you know, some German soldiers were guilty of terrible things. War crimes. When the war was over, some of those bad people fled the country to escape justice. I think Mia and Ananias were among them. I think they fled to the U.S. At some point, Ananias stumbled upon the Amish and realized it would be the perfect place to hide. They were already fluent in German. So they studied the culture, changed their names, invented a past. And they assumed Amish identities.”

He stares at me, blinking, his expression shocked. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“I know it sounds far-fetched, but it fits. It would explain a lot.” I look down at the pic on my cell. “I think Ananias kept that badge because it meant something to him. But he knew he shouldn’t. I think he gave it to Rosemary, his lover. Not realizing what it was, she displayed it in her bar.

“Ananias became bishop here in Mifflin County in 1977. In 1978, Levi Schmucker was accused of sexually abusing his daughter. Ananias didn’t want the authorities sniffing around, so he went to Levi, beat the hell out of him, and ordered him to leave town. Problem solved.” I stumble over the words, not sure of their plausibility, hating it because I have no proof of any of it.

Still, I press on. “Mia couldn’t live with the lie. She couldn’t live with what her husband had done back in Germany. That’s why she took her life. She did it in a Lutheran church, she asked for absolution because she was a Lutheran.”

A rumble of thunder punctuates the statement. The air is so heavy, it’s as if the storm has come in through the window and pulses in the room like a hot, sweaty fist.

“Ananias was an evil man,” Jonas says.

I nod. “He did a good job researching his new identity, of lying and deceiving and fitting in, but he couldn’t hide what he was. He couldn’t rid himself of the darkness in his heart. Evidently, the people around him had noticed. I think someone discovered the truth about their bishop and took it upon themselves to end the charade.”

We startle when my phone jangles.

I glance at the display. A local number I’ve seen before but don’t recognize. I answer with my name.

“Chief Burkholder!”

It takes me a moment to place the voice. “Mary Elizabeth?”

“Our barn! Someone set it on fire!”

“You called the fire department?” I ask.

“Yes!” she cries. “They’re coming, but we need help.”

I get to my feet. “Is everyone accounted for?”

“Adrian’s getting the horse and cattle out.” She chokes back a sob. “All of my datt’s things! His trunk! It’s all there! Everything that proves you’re wrong about him! It’s going to burn if we don’t save it!”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Stay calm. Don’t go into the barn.”

The line goes dead.

“Shit.” I look at Jonas. “I have to go.”

Already on his feet, Jonas strides to the mudroom, grabs two slickers off a hook. “Let’s go.”

“You stay—”