Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 01 Page 14

  Get hold of yourself. Peter should be here any minute.

  The door rattled. Her eyes fixed on the handle as she watched it twist and turn, fighting against the dead bolt. Gripped with fear, her heart took off on a sprint, her body was seized with the shakes. The rattling grew violent and was followed by hard thumping against the door.

  Do something!

  She staggered over to the phone, picked up the receiver, but dropped it.

  The pounding shook the floor like a tremor.

  She retrieved the phone and placed it to her ear. No dial tone. Frantically, she clicked the switch to get a connection, but the line was dead.

  Sudden silence.

  Her body was too heavy for her wobbly legs. Her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor.

  She lay on the cold tile, desperately sucking air into her parched throat, hearing only her own shallow breaths.

  Then a crash! Something flying toward her! Sharp slivers of light raining down on her! She shielded her face, but her arms and legs were stung and began to leak droplets of red. A gush of warm air. A human arm through the window curtain, groping, dancing like a hand puppet. Then it was gone. Receding footsteps. Approaching footsteps. A loud banging at the door.

  She screamed.

  “Rina!” Decker boomed.

  She tried to call out to him, but only a faint moan escaped from her throat.

  He began to bang furiously. She heard two quick blasts, and the door caved in.

  Decker rushed over and scooped her up in his arms. He sat down on the chair and hugged her tightly.

  “Thank God,” he whispered.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered between rapid breaths.

  “What about Florence?”

  “Nothing.”

  She sat nestled in his arms for a moment, then climbed off his lap.

  Decker looked around. The window was shattered, the floor sprayed with broken glass. He reloaded his .38 special and picked up the phone.

  “The line’s dead,” Rina said.

  “Bastard must have cut it.”

  He unhitched the portable radio from his belt.

  “This is unit number 16-552 requesting immediate back-up at Yeshivat Ohavei Torah, 344 Deep Canyon Thoroughfare in Deep Canyon. Send units to the northeast corner in front of the mikvah. Mikvah—Mary-Ida-King-Victor-Adam-Henry. See the woman.”

  He switched off the radio and absently kicked some shards of glass.

  “I have to go look for Florence, Rina. I can’t wait here in good conscience for back-up while she’s alone out there.”

  “I understand. Let’s go.”

  Decker hesitated while thoughts ran at fast-forward through his brain.

  “No,” he said. “It would be better if you waited here. The guy had a gun last time and knew how to use it. I can’t adequately protect you in the dark, and you could easily get hit by cross fire. Besides, he’ll have seen my car. I doubt if he’ll come back.”

  Rina was paralyzed with fright at the idea of being alone but said nothing. At this point, Florence was more important.

  Decker paused, then pulled out a small gun from a belt holster and offered it to her.

  “I brought an extra with me. Sometimes guns have been known to jam, and I didn’t want to take any chances. It’s all set, so be careful. You probably won’t need it, but just in case, aim for the body, Rina, not the head. You’re more likely to hit that way. If the guy comes at you, don’t hesitate! Pull the trigger and blow the fucker away.”

  She nodded and took the gun.

  “Send me up some help just as soon as it comes.” He turned on his high-power flashlight and was off.

  The brush was dry and crisp under his feet, the bugs out in full force. He worked methodically, sweeping the light over an area before stepping forward, constantly checking for cover in case the bastard started to shoot. Midway up the hill, a sickeningly sweet smell wafted its way toward his nostrils. Decker scrunched up his nose, then, like a hound dog, used the stink to locate the source. Thirty feet away there was a deep pit next to an oak grove. He walked over.

  The big, black woman who’d pounded his back had been left to rot like a beached whale. Her body was twisted and savaged—a leg angled perpendicular to the hipbone, her left foot dangling from a tendon at the ankle, an arm half-ripped from its socket. Her face was a death mask frozen with shock and terror. The slash across her throat was wide and deep, swarming with flies and gnats. Her bowels had emptied, and up close the stench was overpowering. Decker fought back a wave of nausea and made his way back to the mikvah.

  Rina saw Peter coming out of the forest. He had been gone too short a time. She knew it had to be bad.

  The back-up officers arrived. Rina recognized the patrolmen as the two who’d been there the first time—the Latino and the muscleman.

  Decker waved them over.

  “What’s up?” Ramirez asked.

  “A one-eighty-seven about two hundred fifty feet up and over to the left. See where those oaks are?”

  Ramirez shined a light into the hills and nodded.

  “If you’ve got a rope, I can start to mark off the area,” Decker said.

  “Got one in the trunk,” Hunter answered.

  “Might as well get on with it. Lab boys should be here soon. I called them right away.”

  “How did the stiff bite it?” Ramirez asked.

  Rina cringed, and Decker caught it. He took Ramirez aside.

  “Someone bisected her neck.”

  “Jesus,” Ramirez hissed. “I hate slashers.”

  “Scum of the earth,” Decker agreed.

  “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  A few of the yeshiva boys were ambling over to the area.

  “Damn!” said Decker “There’ll be more of them—the sirens and the lights will bring them over. Keep everyone out of the woods and bathhouse, Luis. I don’t want any gawkers lousing up the evidence.”

  Hunter handed Decker a rope while the two uniforms began to contain the crowd that was gathering.

  Rina felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and jumped.

  “How are you holding out?” Decker asked.

  “I don’t know…” She gave him back his gun.

  “This isn’t routine for me,” he said softly, tucking the gun into his belt. “It must be a nightmare for you.”

  She nodded weakly.

  “I’d better cordon off the area.”

  “Was it bad?”

  He looked at her, hating what he had to say.

  “Yeah. It was bad.”

  “Oh my God,” Rina muttered, tears rolling down her cheek. “She was a wonderful person, Peter. You met her.”

  “It’s a shitty deal, Rina.”

  “My God, why her?” Her voice cracked. “Why us?”

  “I don’t know, honey. But I swear to you, I’ll find out.” He loosened his tie. “Can you stand being alone while I’m up there, or do you want me to wait with you? There’s certainly no emergency.”

  “I’m okay,” she said in a cracked voice. “Go do your job.”

  “Sure?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. I’ll be back in a minute. When the others come, direct them to the flares.”

  They descended in droves. Marge, Hollander, a dozen policemen, techs from the crime lab, an ambulance, a detective who looked like a linebacker. The place was crawling with humanity, figures buzzing over the hillside like drones around a hive. Rina’s eyes blurred, her throat tightened, and she began to sob helplessly.

  She felt arms around her waist, a chest to lean on, heard a familiar heartbeat. She clung to Peter tightly, fearful of letting go lest she fall off her psychic precipice.

  She was brought out of her trance by a firm tug on her shirt sleeve. Chana Marcus took her arm and pulled her out of the embrace. Embarrassed, Rina took a step backward and wiped her tears on a tissue the unsmiling woman offered her.

  “I’ll walk you home, Rina,” Chana said, making it sound
like an order.

  Rina looked at Peter. He was impassive.

  “Do I have to stick around?” she asked him.

  “Absolutely. I’ll need you to clarify a few things.”

  “I’ll wait over there, then.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Rina walked away with Chana.

  Meddling bitch, thought Decker.

  Ed Fordebrand wiped the sweat off his forehead and bull neck, and began to itch. It was a peculiar psychosomatic reaction. Every time he saw a stiff, his skin felt afire. His enormous biceps began to swell with red hives, and the bulbous nose turned red and puffy. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

  “I can’t understand it,” he said to Decker, scratching the newly formed lumps. “The fuckin’ doctors say it’s all in the head. I ask you, Deck, if it’s in the head, why the hell does it show up on the body?”

  “Ever think of switching out of Homicide to Vice, Ed?” Decker offered him a cigarette then took one for himself. “Think how that would swell your body.”

  “I’d miss out on all the beautiful scenery,” Fordebrand answered, pointing to the corpse. “Ah, I’ve been doing this too long, Deck. I’m a stubborn old shit and refuse to admit it’s getting to me.”

  “Well, it’s gotten to me.” Decker grimaced. “It’s goddam ugly. Let’s talk down below.”

  He led the beefy man away from the corpse, walking toward the foot of the mountains.

  “You’ve gone soft since you left Homicide, Deck.”

  “I met the woman once, Ed. I liked her. To see her ripped apart, left out like carrion by some demented animal…”

  “The pits, buddy. No question about it.” Fordebrand rubbed his crimson bumps. “What’s your impression? Think it’s related to the rape?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll take the case as a formality if you need a dick from Homicide, but if you want this stiff, it’s yours, Deck.”

  Decker shook his head.

  “I don’t know. I’m getting a little over-involved in this one, Ed.”

  “The pretty lady with the black hair?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “Darling little thing—and young. Nice way to ward off a mid-life crisis.”

  “Hell, she’s bringing one on. Anyway, I don’t want to fuck up this case by getting tunnel vision. That’s why I called you down here.”

  “So what do we got?” Fordebrand asked.

  “We’ve got a rape that happened six weeks ago—”

  “The Foothill asshole?”

  “Don’t know. Inconsistencies in the M.O., but I never really got a good fix on how the woman was actually raped. Main thing that doesn’t jibe is the shoes. The lady was wearing sandals, not sexy little pumps. My gut feeling is no.”

  “Okay, one rape.” Fordebrand grimaced, clawing at his neck. “Now a one-eighty-seven at the same locale—a weird locale. Pretty big coincidence. What else connects the two?”

  “The mikvah—the vandalized building. It’s a Jewish ritual bathhouse. Someone tried to break in tonight, smashed the window. Luckily, I showed up and scared him away. But if he’s brazen enough to break in after ripping off the guard, he’s going to try again.”

  “You think he’s after her?”

  “Yes.” His voice was serious. “I think he is. So far, he’s attempted to get her here. Hasn’t tried her house. That could mean he’s fixated on the place and not her, or maybe he just hasn’t gotten up the gumption. She’s got two small boys, Ed. He breaks into her place, she’s finished.”

  “Where are the kids now?”

  “At a neighbor’s. The guard used to walk her there, she’d pick them up, and then they’d all walk home together. But that still leaves the rest of the night for them to be alone. It’s fucking scary.”

  “You like the little babe. This must be giving you some sleepless nights.”

  “A few.” Decker inhaled his smoke.

  “Can she get away for a while?”

  “I’m sure as hell going to suggest it.”

  “Any candidates for the perp?”

  “Couple of weirdos. I’m going to check them both out.”

  “Spurned lovers?”

  Decker smiled. “I wouldn’t call them lovers. Maybe would-be’s that never made it past the first date.”

  Fordebrand slapped him on the shoulder.

  “I got a heavy case load, Deck. Biker warfare going down. Five d.b.’s that look like ground round. You don’t need me. You’re thinking straight, and you’re motivated. It’ll be your collar. If your head gets muddy, give me a call.”

  “All right. I’ll send you a copy of the report. If the M.O. sounds remotely familiar to anything Homicide has on file, let me know.”

  “No problem.”

  “Take care of those welts, okay, big buddy?”

  “They always shrink down a couple of days later.” Fordebrand blew his nose and looked to one side. “I think the Chosen People are trying to get your attention.”

  The Rosh Yeshiva was waving. Decker excused himself and walked over to him.

  “Mrs. Lazarus said it was Florence Marley, the security guard. Is this true?”

  He looked over and saw Rina surrounded by a group of women.

  Damn it. They were pumping her. He had to get her away from them before the whole case blew up.

  “I’m not at liberty to say, Rabbi, until the next of kin have been notified—”

  “Detective, parents entrust their boys in my care. I am responsible for every life that resides here. Please, you must tell me.”

  Decker looked at the old man. His eyes were full of rage and fear.

  “Don’t say anything to the others, but yes, it was Mrs. Marley.”

  “Such a fine woman…” The old man shook his head. “I interviewed her. She has young children, four of them. Her husband works two jobs so between the two of them they can afford to send them to private school…I can’t believe this! What in the name of Hashem is happening here?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “Why are they doing this to us?”

  “Rabbi—”

  “Do something!”

  There was nothing Decker could say to him. He placed his hand on the rabbi’s shoulder.

  Marge walked over.

  “Nothing so far, Pete. The hills are empty.”

  “Marge, do me a favor and get Rina Lazarus over here. She’s talking.”

  “Sure.”

  “We have a right to know what’s going on,” broke in the Rosh Yeshiva.

  “She may inadvertently say something she shouldn’t,” Decker answered.

  “We feel the burden of this horrendous crime, Detective. Hiring Florence Marley was our doing. Her death is our responsibility.”

  Decker understood the old man’s concern, but had to do his job.

  “Rabbi Schulman, I suspect the incidents have little to do with the yeshiva, but a lot to do with Rina. If she leaks something she shouldn’t have, she could be putting herself in danger.”

  “No one here would hurt her.”

  “We can’t be positive of anything right now, Rabbi.”

  “Do you possess information to which I’m not privy?”

  “Rabbi, right now I’m not sure of anything.”

  “Are you holding back, Detective Decker?”

  Decker was silent.

  Marge brought Rina over.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Rina, you shouldn’t be talking to anyone.”

  “They just wanted to know who it was—”

  “I don’t care. If they want to know something, tell them to ask me.”

  “They’re scared.”

  “Rina, you’ve got to keep your mouth shut, plain and simple.”

  She looked to the Rosh Yeshiva for advice.

  “Rina Miriam, I think the good detective suspects one of the bochrim as a rasha. Does he have reason?”

  Decker was furious. He didn
’t know what a rasha was, but he knew it wasn’t a compliment.

  “Don’t say anything.”

  “Rina Miriam—”

  “I mean it.”

  Rina’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men.

  “Rina, you once told me that saving a life takes precedence over everything in Judaism,” said Decker. “By talking, you’d be endangering your life.”

  The old man’s lips turned upward in the hint of a smile.

  “It’s a strange world when a gentile enlists halacha for the purpose of persuasion. I give you credit, Detective.”

  The rabbi pulled out his cigarette case and offered hand-rolled cigarettes, first to Decker, then to Marge.

  “I will break this impasse and make it easy on you, Detective, as well as on you, Rina Miriam. You told him about Shlomo Stein, am I correct?”

  Rina said nothing. The Rosh Yeshiva turned to Decker.

  “You’ll be pleased to know that Shlomo Stein was learning in the bais hamidrash the entire evening. His chavrusa can confirm this. A chavrusa is—”

  “I know. A learning partner.”

  The old man looked at Rina.

  She turned red.

  “The chavrusa’s name is Shraga Mendelsohn. Feel free to interview both him and Mr. Stein, Detective. I can guarantee you they have nothing to hide.”

  Schulman focused in on Rina.

  “I agree with the detective, Rina Miriam. You need to learn the virtue of silence.”

  “TV people are here, Pete,” said Marge.

  “Well, I think this is one time when we all can agree on silence,” Decker said.

  “Absolutely.” Schulman nodded and puffed on his cigarette. “Newspeople. Human vultures.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” Decker looked at Marge. “You want to handle it?”

  “I think they want you, Pete.”

  “They want blood,” Decker said under his breath. “Marge, take Rina home. I don’t want her face on the news—”

  “Oh, no!” Rina exclaimed.

  Two patrolmen were leading Moshe Feldman out of the forest. The cameras zoomed in on the emaciated man who was mumbling incoherently and followed his pilgrimage down to Decker.