Sacred and Profane. Faye Kellerman
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them, an ego boost to instruct a grown-up, and though he went along with their lessons good-naturedly, inside, in spite of himself, he was humiliated. Afterwards, he’d return home and take out his feeling of frustration on his horses, running them around his acreage, working up a sweat until he smelled like a man and no longer felt like a child.
He lay back down and groaned. You’re on vacation, he admonished himself. Take it easy and forget your obligations. He had no trouble blanking out work, but as always, his cloudy status with Rina—and Judaism—continued to gnaw at him. Seeing life through the skewed eye of a cop, Decker found faith hard to come by.
The sun grew stronger and he took refuge under a Douglas fir. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on pleasant images: his daughter Cindy as a little girl, laughing carelessly as she pumped her legs to swing, himself as a boy, ’gator baiting with friends in the Everglades, Rina’s touch, her breath … breath lids grew heavy. Halfway through a jumbled dream, he felt rain on his trousers. Startled, he sat up, only to see Jacob standing over him, gleefully sprinkling his legs with dirt.
“What’s that for?” he asked, wiping off his clothes.
The boy shrugged.
“You bored?”
“A little.”
“Hungry?”
“A little.”
Decker tousled the ebony hair that stuck out from under Jacob’s kipah and unzipped the knapsack.
“We’ve got peanut butter or salami sandwiches,” he announced.
“What about the chicken?”
“Finished it yesterday.”
“The bagels?”
“They’re gone, too. We’re on our last day of vacation, Kiddo. The way we’ve been packing it away, it’s a wonder we haven’t run out of food altogether.”
“I’ll take peanut butter.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“I dunno.”
Decker stood up and looked around. Ginger rose with him, coppery fur gleaming in the sunlight. Sammy was nowhere in sight.
“Wasn’t he just reading over there?” Decker asked.
“He said he was going for a walk,” Jake answered. “You were sleeping. He told me not to bother you, but I got bored.”
“Sammy?” Decker called out, taking a few steps.
Nothing.
“When did he leave?”
“I dunno.”
Decker cupped his hands and called out:
“Sammy Lazarus, are you playing a game with me?”
He waited for a response. The sounds of the woods became magnified: bird songs, the rush of water, the buzz of insects.
“Hmm. Must have wandered off.” Decker took Jake’s hand and started to check out the immediate area. The dog followed.
“Sammy?”
Silence.
“Sammy, can you hear me?” Decker frowned and patted the dog. “Know where Sammy is, Ginger?”
The dog’s ears perked up, but her expression was blank.
“Sammy!” Jake called out.
“Okay,” Decker thought out loud. “Let’s take this one step at a time. He can’t be very far away.”
He picked up Sammy’s discarded sweat jacket and held it under the dog’s nose. She immediately skipped over to the area where Sammy had been sitting and parked herself.
The ground revealed a few bare footprints. Decker tried to follow them, but they were light and sporadic, disappearing altogether as the copse thickened with foliage.
“Sammy?” Decker bellowed.
Stay organized. He constructed an imaginary hundred-foot radius from the last footprint and decided to search that area meticulously, go over every single inch for a sign of a footprint, a torn piece of clothing …
Ten minutes of hunting and shouting proved to be fruitless.
“Where is he?” Jake asked nervously.
“He’s somewhere around here,” Decker said. Despite his anxiety, he kept his voice steady. “We’ll find him, Jakey. Don’t worry …. Sammy!”
“Why doesn’t he answer?”
“You know your brother. His head’s in the clouds.”
Decker was not given to panic—his job required a detached mind and a cool head—but images began to form in his mind. Horrible images …
“Sammy!” he shouted.
“Maybe he hurt himself,” Jacob said. His bottom lip quivered.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Kiddo,” Decker answered.
But the grotesque images grew more vivid. The look of terror on Rina’s face—he’d seen her like that before …
“Sammy, can you hear me!” he yelled.
“Sammy!” Jake echoed, then turned to Decker, wild-eyed. “Peter, what are we gonna do?”
“We’re going to find your brother, that’s what we’re going to do.” Kids, he thought. You need eyes in the back of your head. “Sammy!”
“Peter, I’m scared.”
“It’s going to be fine, Jakey,” Decker said.
His responsibility. His fault.
“Did you see or hear anything unusual while I was sleeping?” he asked Jake.
The boy shook his head fiercely.
“Then he’s got to be around somewhere. He’s just lost.” As opposed to kidnapped. “Sammy!”
His voice was growing hoarse.
All those kids. Those missing kids. He knew it all too well. Goddam dumb parents, he used to think. Yeah, they were goddam dumb. He was goddam dumb, too. Suddenly enraged, he ripped through the area like a wounded animal, trying to clear a path for himself and Jacob.
The little boy started to cry. Decker picked him up, hugged him, and continued the search as Jake clung tightly to his neck.
“Maybe we should head back, Peter,” Jake suggested, sniffing. “Maybe Sammy went back to where we were.”
Decker knew otherwise. Sammy should have been able to hear their calls even if he were back at the campsite.
“Sammy?” he tried once more.
He needed help, the sooner the better. Lots of people … Helicopters … There was still plenty of daylight left, but no time to waste. He gave the empty woods a final once over and headed back toward camp.
Suddenly, Ginger took off, her haunches leaping forward in a single fluid motion. The two of them raced after her and saw a small figure, shrouded by trees, standing over a thick clump of underbrush.
Decker ran over to the shadow and grabbed it firmly by the shoulders.
“Damn it, Sammy!” he said. “Didn’t you hear me calling you? You scared me half to death!” He clutched him to his chest. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
The boy held himself rigid. Decker saw that his eyes were glazed.
“What’s wrong with you? What happened?”
“Yuck!” Jake spat out, staring into a pile of decayed foliage. Decker looked down.
There were two charred