“I don’t want sex, Donatti; I want answers.”
“Sex is always the answer, Lieutenant.”
The line went dead.
Decker handed the phone back to Jen. She took it, stowed it, and sat down on the mattress, patting it for him to sit down. He sat, setting off a tidal wave. Her hand went to his knee. Her voice was a siren’s whisper. “What can I do for you?”
He took her hand away from his thigh. “Probably nothing if Donatti shut you up.” He stood and leaned against the wall. She came up from behind and slipped her hands around his waist, pressing her body against his back. It felt nice, but he shook her off. “I’m married. I don’t cheat. Don’t touch me, all right?”
He turned around, facing her puzzled-and slightly wounded-blue eyes. “What? Did he tell you to seduce me? He’s playing games. He knows I don’t do that kind of stuff. Sit down.”
She retreated to the bed and sat down with her hands in her lap, as obedient as a schoolgirl.
“Do you live in Quinton?” Decker asked her.
“Rosehill.”
“Where’s that?”
“About ten miles east of Bainberry.”
“Separated by woods?”
She nodded.
“What’s this area? Like a series of little townships?”
“Exactly.”
“And why did you choose to settle in Rosehill? Did he set you up there?”
“My husband’s practice is in Rosehill.”
“Your husband.”
“Yes.”
“What does your husband do?”
“He’s a physician. Family medicine. He’s been in Rosehill for over thirty years.”
“Thirty years.”
“Yes.”
“He’s quite a bit older than you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to imply anything negative about that. I’m much older than my wife… well, not that much older.” Decker began to pace. “Does your husband know what you do?”
She regarded him defiantly. “What I do is secretarial work. Nothing more.”
“A few moments ago you were willing to do more.”
Her eyes were steel. “Doing an old friend a favor, that’s all.”
Decker stopped and rubbed his forehead. “You know a girl from Quinton was murdered about five days ago.”
“Yes. Down in New Jersey. A shame.”
“She was fifteen years old.”
“A terrible shame.”
“You get clients from Quinton?”
“Sure.”
“The Jews come in?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever serviced a man named Chaim Lieber?”
“We keep our clients’ names private. People expect that, you know? But since you seem to have a… personal relationship with Mr. Donatti, I’ll answer the question.”
“Thank you.”
“No.”
“A big buildup for a letdown.” Decker laughed. “He never came in… Chaim Lieber.”
“No.”
“What about his brother?”
“Who’s his brother?”
“Ephraim Lieber?”
Again she shook her head no.
“Merrin comes in here a lot.”
She grew quiet.
“Nice man?”
“He’s always been polite.”
“Good to hear.” Decker began to pace again. This was getting nowhere. “Let me ask you this, Jen. If I wanted to fly a little, where would I go?”
Her smile was patronizing. “To the airport.”
“Very funny. Could you answer the question?”
“I wouldn’t know. This is a spa, not a rave.”
“A spa?”
“We have a steam bath. Are you interested?”
“No, I’ve been wet enough for one day, thank you.” Again Decker tried to change tactics. “So you get some Quinton people in here.”
“Yes.”
“Men who like their privacy.”
“Yes.”
“Probably get some boys in here, too. You know, horny kids looking for some action.”
“All our clients are over eighteen.”
“You card the ones who look underage?”
“Of course. We don’t want problems.”
“Merrin get a kickback for looking the other way?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.”
First time she had used his title. Donatti must have told her.
“You get some bad boys in here, Jen?”
“We get all types of men. But if they want a massage, they mind their p’s and q’s.”
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere. C’mon, Decker. You’re a professional, for God’s sake.
He remembered Donatti’s words for snagging the girls: “tea and sympathy.” How many times had he used that approach with juveniles himself? He sat down on the floor, his legs extended outward, back against the bed. He tapped the carpet, indicating for her to sit next to him. She followed dutifully, tucking her legs under one another, her spine straight up. He kept his eyes on her stoic face, dropping his voice to something soft and soothing. “How old are you, Jen?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one.”
“Yes.”
“My daughter’s twenty-five.”
“Really. You don’t look that old.”
He smiled. “I also have another daughter… from my second wife. The one who’s much younger than I am. That daughter… she’s nine going on thirty.”
Jen smiled.
“Do you have children?” Decker asked her.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“How old?”
She swallowed. “Six and one.”
“Boys? Girls?”
“A girl and a boy.”
“The oldest is a girl?”
She nodded.
“That’s great.” Decker smiled. “Six is a wonderful age, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She stared at her lap. Her black leather miniskirt barely covered her panties. “Yes, it is.”
“So full of life… so full of trust and curiosity.” He sat back, laced his hands behind his neck, and stretched. Then he pitched forward, a concerned expression in his eyes. “I worry about my little one. It’s hard growing up in this day and age, especially because we’ve seen terrible things. Talking professionally, I’ve seen many, many bad things up close. Not too encouraging.”
She said nothing.
“All these bad boys, these… evil people that I arrest. It jades my perspective. I worry that my… my negativity will rub off on her. But you know what?”
“What?” she whispered.
“It doesn’t. Kids are remarkably resilient. Don’t you find that to be the case?”
Her eyes clouded. “Sometimes.”
“Well, look at your own little girl. And look at you. I mean, it couldn’t have been easy having a kid at fifteen. But look how you’re doing. You’ve got a good job. A husband who probably loves you very much… right?”
“Right.”
“Two beautiful children. Great fun, huh?”
She nodded.
“Yes, indeed. Just look how well you’re doing. You’ve got a lot to be proud of. I’m sure you’re a real role model for your daughter.”
She turned her head away. Her eyes had become wet. “That was nasty.”
“What?” Decker threw his arm around her. “My God, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
Burning eyes lit into his. “Nothing…”
“Nothing? You’re as pissed as hell. I’m sorry. What did I say?”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I’m sorry. Honestly. Tell me what I said?”
She wiped her tears with her fingers. “Nothing.” Then she hid her face in her hands. “Nothing at all.”
“Man, Donatti’s going to get mad when he finds out I’ve upset you.”
“Oh God!” Panic crossed her eyes. “I’m so sorry-”
“Sorry for what? I offended you!”
“No, you didn’t! You didn’t at all.”
“You’re afraid of him-Donatti?”
“No, not at all.”
“Come on, Jen. It’s okay. Is he… hurting you at all?”
“Of course not!”
Decker watched her as she sniffed and wiped her face, her eyes redder but softer. “Your daughter?” he asked. “Is she Donatti’s kid?”
She laughed through her tears. “No.” A pause. “I wish to God she was his.”
Decker nodded. “Some jerk took advantage of you, huh?”
She was still furious, but fear made her answer him politely. “My sister’s husband.”