The Forgotten. Faye Kellerman
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of the gate. “Daddddeeeeee!”
“Hannah Rosieeeeee!” Decker answered back, picking the seven-year-old up in his arms. “How was school?”
“Great! How many bad guys did you catch today?”
“A zillion billion.”
“Yes!” Hannah’s feet kicked the air. She squirmed her way down until she was standing on her own power. “Where’s Eema?”
“She’s busy.”
“Is she at the shul?”
Decker looked at her. “Uh, yeah, she is.” He bent down and looked his daughter in the eye. “What do you know about the shul?”
“The teachers told us that a bad man made it messy.” Her brow was knitted in sorrow and fear. “Someone who doesn’t like the Jewish people. Is he going to hurt us, Daddy? Like that bad man who shot the kids at the center?”
“No, honey. No one is going to get hurt. It’s all under control.”
“Did you catch the bad man, Daddy?”
“Sort of.”
“I’m scared. Why is Eema there?”
“To clean up the mess, that’s all.”
“But no one got shot?”
“No, honey, no one got shot.” What a world! “Let’s go, Hannah. Cartoons are waiting.”
Hannah was quiet on the ride home. Decker tried conversation, but the little girl didn’t respond. Four blocks before home, she started talking, although it had nothing to do with the shul. It was a diatribe about how Moshe always took her pencils … just grabbed them from her hand without even asking!
“That’s very rude,” Decker concurred.
“He never even once asked,” she said in outrage. “And … he never said thank you.”
“Very rude.” Decker parked the car in the driveway, helping his daughter out of the car. Then he took out Hannah’s backpack, which must have weighed twenty pounds. “How do you carry this?”
“On my back.”
“No. I mean it’s so heavy!”
“Yes, it is,” Hannah agreed. “Sometimes I use the wheels. Can I have Mike and Ike for snack?”
“No candy before dinner. How about milk and cookies?”
“I don’t like cookies. How about milk and Mike and Ike?”
Decker was too tired to argue. “Sure.”
“Oh, Daddy!” Hannah crooned, hugging his waist with thin little arms. “You’re the best!”
Translation: Between you and Eema, you’re the sucker. He parked her in front of the TV and used the quiet time to call his wife. “Just wanted to let you know that I got her.”
“Thank you, Peter. Is everything okay?”
“As long as you don’t mind her snacking on Mike and Ike.”
“And if I did?”
“I’d say, next time you pick her up.”
Rina laughed over the phone. “I do appreciate you picking her up. I can’t stand the shul in this state.”
“Are you almost done?”
“Not even close. I don’t know who made the bigger mess—the vandals or the techs. Judith Marmelson and Reneé Boxstein are here. Reneé’s husband, Paul, is bringing over cans of paint. If you want to leave Hannah with her friend, Ariella Hackerman, you can join the party.”
“This time I’m going to have to pass. I’m waiting for Yonkie to get home. I’d like him to baby-sit while I go back to work. I cut short what I was doing to pick Hannah up. But that’s okay. Actually, it was good to get out.”
“How’s the investigation going?”
“Promising. I can’t tell you any more.”
“Promising is good. Promising is encouraging.”
“It is indeed.”
“A suspect—”
“I can’t tell you any more.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Yeah, but you knew that when you married me.”
Yonkie was home on time. Decker waited until he settled into his room before intruding on his life. A moment later he heard ear-blasting punk rock coming from Yonkie’s stereo. Decker had to bang on the wood to be heard over the din. The music volume took a nosedive, and then his stepson opened the door, looking at him with grave eyes. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Decker tried out a smile. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He stepped aside. “What’s up?”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No, not at all. Sorry about today. I spoke without thinking.”
“Did you get a lot of flak from your friends?”
“It’s okay. I can handle myself.”
Same words as Ernesto. It was the adolescent creed.
Yonkie licked his lips. “What I don’t want is help, okay?”
Neatly stated. Decker nodded.
Yonkie was restless, clearly anxious for him to leave. “Anything else?”
“I left work early to pick up Hannah,” Decker said. “I’ve left some things unfinished. Can you watch her for a couple of hours until Eema gets home?”
“No problem.”
Being agreeable, but there was anger behind it. “Are you all right, Jacob?”
“Fine. Don’t worry about it.” A pause. “How’s Eema?”
His voice took on concern. The kid loved his mother. That made two of them. “She’s scrubbing out the synagogue. It was pretty bad.”
“Does she need help?”
“You’re helping her by watching Hannah. You sure it’s okay?”
“Positive. If she gets bored, I’ll take her out somewhere.”
“Thanks.” Decker patted the boy’s shoulder, but there was no response. Like Jacob was made of stone. Or maybe he was just plain stoned. Jacob knew he was being sized up. He didn’t flinch from Decker’s scrutiny. “Uh … are you going out now?”
“Yeah, give me a few minutes.”
“Take your time. Call me when you need me.”
He closed the door in Decker’s face. Jake’s life was a giant tumor of repressed anger. Decker tried not to take it personally, but the tension left him queasy. He went over to Hannah, who was steadily working her way through the box of candy.
“How about a grilled cheese sandwich?”
The girl’s eyes were glued on the TV—Scooby Doo. Man, that had longevity. The talking Great Dane had been around when Cindy was a little girl.
“Hannah, did you hear me?”
“Grilled cheese is okay.”
She had heard him. Decker made up a grilled cheese sandwich, courtesy of an electronic sandwich maker that not only grilled but also molded the bread into an attractive shell shape. The aesthetics were lost on Hannah. She asked him to wrap it in a napkin so grease wouldn’t get all over her fingers. Meticulous at times, downright messy at other times. Kids never failed to mystify him.
He