As the weather turned mild, Decker and Rina ventured out again, taking road trips to visit the children and the grandchildren, enjoying their time alone in the car as much as their time with their large family. They took up Professor Gold’s offer to visit Cambridge and Harvard University. They ended their day in Boston with drinks in Summer Village at Chris Mulrooney’s favorite bar.

Chase Goddard continued his antique store up in Boston and with the influx of summer tourists enjoying New England, Decker supposed he was doing fine. Jason Merritt’s gallery certainly did a brisk business especially with the return of two Petroshkovich icons. It was a great day of celebration for Marylebone, Rhode Island, and a great day for Allan Sugar and his partner, Douglas Arrenz. There were some murmurings of more of the Schneerson documents coming to the United States, but nothing had materialized so far. And there were no news items or articles about any traveling Leonardos, same with the Amber Room.

But these kinds of sensitive negotiations took time.

On midsummer’s day, Decker followed Gold’s advice and swept the house for hidden bugs. There were three of them—one in his car, one in the dishwasher, and one in the bedroom. At first Decker was incensed at the invasion of privacy. After cooler minds prevailed, he found humor in it. Maybe the recipients on the other end would learn a thing or two from them.

He still thought about the case, mostly when he was relaxed and alone. He knew things were irrevocably changed for Angeline’s parents and for the Lathams. But thirty years of police work had taught him to compartmentalize in order to stay sane.

With the dog days of summer passing quickly, McAdams began folding up shop. By mid-August, he was ready to roll. His injuries had healed and he felt better than ever, spending more time in the local gym. He still retained his Upper East Side superior attitude, but it was tempered with humor. The week before he started law school, he decided to go to the Hamptons to visit his father and mother—separate houses—for a few days.

On McAdams’s last day in Greenbury, he went to say good-bye to the Deckers. It was on a Saturday afternoon and the Loo and his wife were in the backyard on the patio, lazing in a couple of lounge chairs. Decker was in shorts and a T-shirt, Rina was in a polo shirt and a denim skort with her hair tied up and covered with a kerchief. On the tabletop were lemonade and beer, potato chips and crackers, and of course, Rina’s homemade cookies. McAdams pulled up a chair, popped a cold one, and nibbled on a cracker.

Decker was swigging from a longneck. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow. We’d be happy to drive you down . . . we just can’t do it on Shabbos.”

“No, I think I’d rather take the train,” McAdams said. “Unless you want to visit the Hamptons. But it comes with my crazy relatives.”

Rina said, “I like Nina.”

“She’s in Florence, Italy, for the summer.”

“Well, then I’ll pass.” Rina took a potato chip. “Are you excited about law school, Tyler?”

“I am resigned about law school.”

“It won’t be so bad.”

“I’m sure it’ll be better than getting shot.”

Decker said, “You’ll sail through it, Harvard.”

“I’m not worried . . . more like annoyed. But there are worse positions to be in. So I won’t complain . . . unless I feel like it . . . which is often.” He turned to Decker. “How happy will you be not to hear my bitching.”

“Very happy.”

“You’ll miss him,” Rina said.

“No, I won’t,” Decker said. “But I might miss your iPad.”

“I’ll send you one.”

“It’s not the iPad, it’s the brain,” Rina said.

“I will concede that you had promise,” Decker said. “But it would probably all go to waste anyway. Not much has happened in the last four months other than a lot of drunk and disorderlies around graduation time.”

“And the OD at Kennedy’s Pub,” Rina said. “That was pretty exciting.”

“Not so much,” McAdams said. “The kid made it.”

Rina laughed. “You’re terrible.”

McAdams smiled. He set the empty beer bottle down on the tabletop. “I spoke to Radar this morning. He said I can come back anytime. Unusually nice of him. Maybe he’s hoping for a donation.”

“Maybe he means it as a sincere offer,” Rina said.

“Technically I do have summers off.”

“Even cops go on vacation and you know the ropes,” Decker said. “Not a bad idea.”

“You think?”

“It’s easier than training a temp, although you’ll have to bone up on your shooting skills. I’m not working with anyone who can’t use a firearm.”

“That can be arranged,” McAdams said.

“What do you mean technically you have summers off?”

“Summer is traditionally the time where lawyers-to-be grab coveted legal internships. So being the contrarian that I am, I’m figuring that while most of my classmates will be slaving away with long hours and great food allowances at white shoe firms, I’d like to be back here in Greenbury, rescuing cats from trees, bitching about mankind’s stupidity, and working on my screenplay.”

“You’re like shingles,” Decker said. “I can’t get rid of you.”

“There is a vaccine for that,” McAdams said. “But you’ve got to be old to take it.”

Decker threw a potato chip at him. “So I’ll see you next summer?”

“That would be a definite yes.”

“About your screenplay, Tyler,” Rina said. “What about making the protagonist a woman?”

“It’s a possibility. I do have some good role models for it. But I don’t think I could write it as good as the real thing.”

Rina grinned. “So make it a man. You’ve got a lot to choose from there.”

“I do.”

“What’s that I hear?” Decker cupped his ear. “Is that Hollywood calling your name?”

Tyler laughed. “I don’t know about that. But you know what they say. Write what you know. And I know some pretty gutsy people.” He stood up and grabbed a handful of cookies. “For the train.”

“Help yourself,” Rina said.

Decker stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Stay where you are, Old Man,” McAdams said. “I can see myself out.” He hugged them both. “Thanks.”

“For getting you shot? You’re welcome.”

“No, I could have done without that. But at least I’m walking on my own two feet. More than that, Old Man, thanks to you, I’ve learned how to stand on my own two feet.” A genuine smile crinkled the corners of his hazel green eyes. “I’ll see you and the rest of Greenbury’s finest next summer and that’s a promise.”

After he left, Decker sat back down and took a swig from the long neck. “I think I’ll miss him . . . maybe.”

“You’ll miss him. Admit it.”

He thought a long, long time about that. Then he turned to Rina and smiled. “Maybe.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

FAYE KELLERMAN lives with her husband, New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman, in Los Angeles, California, and Santa Fe, New Mexico.

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Also by Faye Kellerman

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Gun Games

Hangman

Blindman’s Bluff

The Mercedes Coffin

The Burnt House

The Ritual Bath

Sacred and Profane

The Quality of Mercy

Milk and Honey

Day of Atonement

False Prophet

Grievous Sin

Sanctuary

Justice

Prayers for the Dead

Serpent’s Tooth

Moon Music

Jupiter’s Bones

Stalker

The Forgotten

Stone Kiss

Street Dreams

Straight into Darkness

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