“That is too dangerous for Billy,” Alma says simultaneously.

I level a stare at them. “None of you will be in danger.”

William sets down his fork. The look he gives me makes the hairs on my arms tingle. “We are Amish, not dumb farm animals.”

“You know I don’t think that,” I snap.

William bristles. Glancing at his children, he motions toward the living room. “Isaac and Billy, go to your room.”

Alma’s gaze darts from me to her husband. “William . . .”

“Go!” He thrusts a hand toward the door.

Isaac snatches a piece of bread from the basket, and without a word, they flee the kitchen. William gives me an accusing stare. “I will not allow you to come into my home and frighten my children.”

“William, if this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be here. But I have a killer to catch. I have a responsibility to the people of this town to keep them safe.”

“The killer is an Englischer,” William growls. “This is not an Amish matter.”

“The Plank family was Amish,” I counter.

“I cannot help you.” William resumes eating, using his fork and chewing with a little too much vigor.

“If I don’t stop him, he’ll kill again.”

He chews harder, ignoring me.

Frustrated, I look at his wife. “If you’ll just listen to what I have to say.”

“I have heard enough.” The Amish man stands abruptly. “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers; for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion hath light with darkness?”

The passage is a doctrine that forbids an Amish person from doing business with outsiders. I heard it many times in my youth. I don’t believe it now any more than I did then.

“Yes, we are two societies,” I tell him. “Amish and English. But we are one town. And this killer doesn’t differentiate between the two.”

Without looking at me, William mutters something in Pennsylvania Dutch.

Alma puts her hands on her hips. “But what of the people who are in danger, William? If it is in our power to keep them safe, perhaps this is the path God would want us to take.”

Her husband brings his hand down on the table hard enough to rattle silverware. “No!”

I’d known the plan would be a hard sell. The principle of separation from the outside world colors every aspect of an Amish person’s reality. My own parents shared a similar view. In this case, I suspect that buried somewhere inside that philosophy, is also fear for his son.

Realizing there’s nothing more I can say, I give William a final look. “The Amish are not the only children of God in this town. Think about that tonight when you’re trying to sleep.”