“You didn’t screw up this time.”
“Neither did you.”
Decker didn’t answer.
Randy switched gears. “You’re just about healed up and you still got four weeks’ disability left. What are you going to do with it?”
“Right now, I’m mellowing out. In a few days, Rina and I thought we’d take Hannah to Epcot-”
“Oh God no!”
“What’s wrong with Epcot?”
“Why don’t you leave Hannah to me and Sheryl? We’ll take her to Epcot and Disney World. She enjoys spending time with her cousins. You go with Rina to the Caribbean.”
“No thanks. Maybe another time.”
“If not now, when? Isn’t that a Jewish proverb?”
“It means the study of Torah.”
“Well, you can’t study your holy Torah unless your mind is in a spiritual place. In the meantime, the Caribbean is nice.”
“I don’t want to go to the Caribbean. I hate beach vacations. I don’t tan; I just burn. And I can’t think of anything worse than sitting in the hot sun, sweating my ass off.”
Randy exhaled in disgust.
“Rina was also talking about going to Europe for a week to ten days. Mom said she and Dad would look after Hannah. Aunt Millie would also help out. Rates are a joke right now. No one’s traveling.”
“I wonder why,” Randy quipped.
“Gotta live your life,” Decker answered.
“Exactly, Peter. Listen to your own advice,” Randy told him. “Hey. How about if Sheryl and me and the kids come down on the weekend and give Mom and Dad an extra pair of hands?”
“Randy, you’ve been a peach.”
He smiled. “I was a pain-in-the-ass little brother, but you treated me okay. Now I’m rewarding you. Where you two going? Paris?”
“Paris and possibly Munich of all places. Rina has a close childhood friend who moved with her husband to Germany to start a yeshiva there.”
“Go figure.” Randy slapped him on the back. “Do it, Peter. Have a good time with your wife, and thank whatever God you believe in that you’ve got another day with a heartbeat.”
It came in the afternoon, the day before she and Peter were to leave for Paris, a plain white envelope with a stuck-on, pretyped label made out to MRS. RINA DECKER C/O LYLE AND IDA DECKER, followed by her in-laws’ address.
She turned it over. The return address was the same as the front label. Another flip back. The postmark told her it was mailed from New York City. Immediately, she grew suspicious, but who on earth would be sending her biological warfare in the mail. Still, she took care when she opened the envelope.
No powder of any kind.
No letter, either.
Only a small single-column newspaper article that had been neatly trimmed-razor cut rather than scissors. There wasn’t any mention of the paper’s name. Nor was there a date. Rina read the headline.
MAN SLAIN, FOUND ON STEPS OF CHURCH
On a routine patrol, Officer Willard Greaves discovered a grisly corpse sprawled across the front steps of Medford Methodist Church. The victim, sustaining a single shot to the head, was identified as Steven Gilbert, a computer teacher at the local community college…
The article fell from Rina’s hands and fluttered down to the floor. She could feel her heart pumping blood clear up to her brain. Her voice escaped her for a moment; then she called out his name.
“Peter?”
No answer.
She picked up the article and tried to control her shaking hands. She cleared her throat and tried again, a little louder. “Peter?”
Nothing.
She went into the kitchen, the center of her in-laws’ house. Mama Ida had just baked a cinnamon apple cake, the warm air still saturated with sugar and spice. “Peter?”
“Out back.”
She took in a deep breath, exhaled, then went into the backyard. Peter was grilling their dinner, bass fillets caught from this morning’s fishing expedition. Hannah had awakened at four along with Daddy, Uncle Randy, and Papa Lyle. Her daughter was becoming an old-fashioned country girl-delighted with new adventure and the open space. It was going to be difficult to integrate her back into the confined classrooms of her religious Jewish day school. The only thing that Rina had going for her was that Hannah sorely missed her two best friends, Ariella and Esther Ruthie Chaya.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.” Decker kept his concentration on the grill. “What’s up, beautiful?”
Peter was wearing an apron. He looked so relaxed and homespun.
“This came in today’s mail.”
Peter looked up. “What’s wrong, Rina?”
“Wrong?”
“You’re white.” His face was filled with concern. “What happened?”
“Nothing, really. Well… nothing bad.” She secured the spatula from his hand, and offered him the article. “Trade?”
Warily, Decker took the clipping. Within seconds, he was aware of his heartbeat. “Oh my my…” Excitement soared through his veins. He couldn’t help himself. A smile worked its way to his lips. “Son of a gun. Where’d this come from?”
“I told you. It came in today’s mail. It was addressed to me care of your parents. The return address was your parents’ house.”
“Did you look at the postmark?”
“Yes. It was mailed from New York.”
“New York?”
Rina nodded.
“Not Indiana?”
“No, not Indiana. New York.” She showed him the envelope.
He stared at the envelope, a bit deflated. “It could be a hoax.”
But Rina knew it was no hoax.
“Well, there’s one way to find out.” He looked up from the article. “You’ll watch the fish?”
“I’ll watch the fish.”
“Son of a gun. If it is true, we’re going to have to tell the boys.” Decker’s smile returned. “Do you want to do it or should I?”
“I think you should do it. I’m…” Heat from the grill was baking her face. She suddenly felt faint. “I’m…”
Decker took her in his arms. “I know, honey, you must be in shock!” He couldn’t get the grin off his face. “Not an unpleasant shock. Here, sit down.” He eased her into a patio chair.
“I’m okay.” She brought her hand to her chest. “You’re going to call Medford Police?”
“Yep.” Decker slapped the article against the palm of his hand. “I hope this is legit. Because I’m feeling really good right now. Not that I’m one for blood lust… but it does have its moments.”
That day in the park… hadn’t he used almost the exact words? That vengeance had its soothing effect? Rina was quiet, trying to breathe slowly.
“I’ll be back.” Decker laughed. “Incredible. You couldn’t make this stuff up. There must be a God in heaven.”
He left her alone and went to make his calls. Still breathing hard, she slowly got up to tend to the fish. No sense ruining dinner over what was done. Examining her feeling, she found that she wasn’t sorry about it… but she wasn’t ecstatic, either. More than anything, she just was.
Maybe the news hadn’t fully registered.
Her boys… they would be relieved. No matter how over they thought it had been, now it was really over. He was finally gone. Maybe Jacob could finally put the past behind him.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
There must be a God in heaven.
A true statement, but this wasn’t God.
God’s name was ineffable.
This wasn’t God.
Because Rina knew his name.
FAYE KELLERMAN introduced L.A. cop Peter Decker and his wife, Rina Lazarus, to the mystery world eleven years ago. Since that time she has written nine Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus novels as well as a historical novel, The Quality of Mercy. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, author Jonathan Kellerman. There are close to three million copies of her books in print.
