“The English police.” He says the words with disdain. “They don’t care about the Amisch. Not then. Not now.”

“I care.”

He meets my gaze, but he is unmoved. “What is it you need from me?”

“Is there anything you can tell me about the night Willis Hochstetler was killed?” I ask. “Do you know of anything unusual that happened in the days before or after? Or did you hear any rumors?”

“What happened in the house that night was gottlos.” Ungodly. He sets down the toast as if realizing it’s covered with maggots. “When we found the boy, he was … shattered. It was a painful time for all of us.”

“Did you know Wanetta and Willis?”

“I baptized them when they joined the church. I spoke to them many times. Saw them at worship.” He nods. “Willis es en faehicher schreiner.” Willis was an able carpenter. “Wanetta—” He shakes his head.

“What about her?”

“I talked to William after … what happened. He was a boy. Only fourteen years old and innocent. But even then, he knew things.”

“Like what?”

He raises his gaze to me. “Those men … they took Wanetta. They used her. Soiled her. Forced her to break her vows to her husband. Her sacred vow to the church.”

The words, the meaning behind them, light a fire of outrage inside me, a mix of anger and disbelief and the sense of unfair judgment levied upon the innocent. “She had no choice in the matter.”

He raises rheumy eyes to mine. “Some things are so broken, they cannot be mended. It is the way of the world.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

He gives me a sharp look. “I thought it best that she didn’t return.”

I stare at him, incredulous, and so taken aback by his narrow-minded arrogance that for a moment I’m rendered speechless. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not for you to understand. It’s done. In God’s hands.”

Before I realize I’m going to move, I’m hovering over him. “Do you know something about what happened to her?” Despite my efforts, my voice has risen.

His eyes roll back in their sockets slightly when he looks at me. “A few years after Willis and the children were killed, I received a message from the bishop of the Swartzentruber Amish in Pennsylvania.”

The Swartzentruber clan are the most conservative Amish. The group emerged after a split of the Old Order back in 1917 over a conflict between two bishops regarding Bann und Meidung, or “excommunication and shunning.” Several Swartzentruber families live in Painters Mill. Generally, they’re stricter with regard to the use of technology, rejecting conveniences like milking machines and indoor plumbing. Their buggies are windowless. Even their dress is plainer, especially for the women.

“What message?” I ask.