He was about to lift the knocker, but then the door opened and three Chasids flew out, eyes turned downward, hands behind their backs, their payot flying as they fast-walked past him.

Decker went inside.

The crowd was so thick, so without light and air, that he felt as if he were in the middle of a twister. The sheer density made it hard to move. Eventually, he was swept toward the front, into the grief-stricken family that included three sisters, one brother, and a father steeped in abject tragedy. They were seated on pillows that rested on the floor, their eyes saturated with deep despair. Mr. Lieber and Chaim wore black pants, black shoes, and white shirts that had been intentionally ripped directly under the collar: the indication of mourning. Atop their heads were large black yarmulkes. The three sisters wore somber-colored skirts and blouses also torn near the collar. Two of the three women had on wigs; Raisie had elected to wear a scarf.

Jonathan was at his elbow. He guided him into a corner and offered Decker some coffee.

“I’m fine.”

“Soda, water?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Thanks for coming down,” Jonathan told him. “Especially since you must be on a very tight schedule.”

“Not too bad, actually. The plane doesn’t leave until nine tonight.”

“Oh…” An uncomfortable pause. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”

Decker regarded his half brother. “Tonight.”

Jonathan nodded. “Good. I mean, not good. I mean… I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to leave.”

“You’re looking tense, Jon. Anything wrong?”

Jonathan hesitated. “No… just. What can I say, Akiva? What can I say?”

“You can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Me, I just can’t… stop thinking about Shayndie.”

Guilt tugged at Decker’s heart. “It’s terrible.”

Jonathan nodded but didn’t add anything. His gaze wandered over the crowd, resting on Chaim’s face. The two of them locked eyes, but then Chaim turned away.

Jonathan said, “Let me introduce you to my father-in-law.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, no. I insist.”

Although Decker didn’t know Jonathan that well, he knew when someone was unsettled. Unsettled was a euphemism. If Decker were objective, he’d bet that Jonathan was sitting on something. But this was not the time for confrontation, especially since Decker hadn’t owned up to the truth last night. Maybe he could pull it out of Jonathan later on.

A moment later, Decker was standing in front of a beaten old man. Mr. Lieber’s eyes went to Decker’s face and failed to register any recognition. But then he noticed Jonathan… standing next to this strange large man in a brown suit. Quickly, the old man put two and two together. He acknowledged him with a nod.

Decker nodded back.

Lieber was a much bigger man than Decker had expected-wide across the chest and face, with a large, drooping nose and thick, prominent lips. Once he might have had a solid square jaw, but his jowls covered the bone structure. His eyes were hooded and multicolored, changing tint depending on the light and atmosphere-anatomical mood rings.

Chaim stood up, his eyes having darkened into black orbs of fury. Decker wondered what he had done to make this man hate him so much. It wasn’t as if Decker had hurt his daughter. On the contrary, he had actually found a link to the missing girl. He felt terrible about keeping the secret, and for one brief all-too-human moment, he thought about relating the wonderful news to Chaim. But if it got back to Donatti and if she was harmed because of his indiscretion, then who would be at fault?

No, it was better to be overcautious.

“I thought that you had left,” Chaim told him.

“Tonight,” Jonathan said.

“Why tonight? What business do you have here?”

Decker threw his head back. “Rina wanted to stay for the funeral. And I had things to wrap up, Rabbi Lieber. You don’t involve people in your affairs and then suddenly leave without saying thanks.”

“Are you admonishing me because I didn’t thank you?”

“Chaim,” Jonathan began.

But Decker held up his palm to silence him. “No, Rabbi Lieber, not at all. I meant the cops who had helped me. I’d like to remain on good terms with them.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about New York’s finest because they certainly haven’t helped much, have they?”

“I’m so sorry, sir. This must be agonizing for you.”

“Terribly agonizing.”

But he sounded more angry than despairing. His eyes narrowed, his body thrust toward Decker in an antagonistic pose. “You don’t know anything, Lieutenant. Go home.”

“Chaim!” a raspy voice chided. “Es pass nisht. Vus toost-du? Setz’ich avek!”

“But Papa-”

“Nisht gebst mir del Papa. Setz’ich avek non! Nisht dray mir a kop.”

Reluctantly, Chaim returned to his pillow. Mr. Lieber motioned Decker to a chair. “Sit down, Lieutenant. Do you want some tea?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Lieber. Do you want some tea?”

“No, I don’t want anything right now.” He looked at his son-in-law. “Jonathan, get the man some tea.”

“Really, I’m-” Decker stopped himself. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“While you’re up, get some for Papa,” Raisie chimed in.

“I don’t want any-”

“Papa, you must drink!”

“I’ll have only if you’ll have,” Decker proposed.

The old man nodded.

Jonathan sighed heavily and went to the kitchen for tea.

The old man leaned forward. “You will forgive Chaim’s manners. He is under terrible, terrible stress.”

“Of course, Mr. Lieber. I’m sure my presence has added to it. I just wanted to pay my respects to you. Then I’ll go.”

“He expects miracles. For that, he must pray to the Abishter.”

“ ‘It is better to take refuge in Hashem than to rely on man,’ ” Decker quoted from the Hallel service.

“Yes, exactly.” Lieber’s eyes watered. “It’s so terrible.”

“Yes, it is. I’m so sorry.”

“Horrible.” Lieber wiped his eyes. “And you are leaving tomorrow?”

“Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.”

Donatti had told him to wait for his call, but how long could Decker be patient?

“At the hespid yesterday, I spoke to people who worked with Ephraim. I also spoke with others who knew your son. Ephraim seemed like a man who was full of heart.”

“Who did you speak to?” Chaim challenged.

“A woman named Luisa-”

“Ephraim gave her money,” Chaim sneered. “Of course she liked him.”

“And since when is tzedaka considered a bad thing?” Raisie asked him.

“Charity begins at home,” Chaim said.

“Don’t fight,” another sister castigated. “Don’t we have enough to deal with?”

Raisie regarded Decker, then pointed to her sisters. “This is Esther; this is Malka.”

Decker offered his condolences to them.

“And who were the others who knew Ephraim?” Mr. Lieber wanted to know.

“I spoke to a man who met Ephraim in an organization called Emek Refa’im.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Lieber said. “The counseling place.”

“A place for drug addicts, Papa,” Chaim stated.

“A place to help them,” Mr. Lieber insisted. “He was doing so well, Lieutenant. Ephraim was.”

“So I understand.”

The old man sighed. “So well.” Tears in his eyes. “In the business, too.”

“How long had he been working with you and Chaim?”

Lieber didn’t answer.

“Two years,” Chaim said dully.

“Two years,” the old man repeated. “He enjoyed it. I could tell he liked the business.”

Chaim rolled his eyes, but the old man didn’t see it.

“I’m sure he loved being part of the business,” Decker said. “What was his job there?”

“What difference does it make now?” Chaim snapped.

“The man wants to know,” Mr. Lieber said. “He was a jack of all boxes-”

“Jack of all trades,” Chaim corrected.

“He’d work the register, stock the shelves, take inventory in the stores and in the warehouse, fill in if people didn’t show up.”