“Pleased to meet you. My name is Inspector Bechor. And this is Sergeant Yakov. Our sympathy. We hope to have good news for you soon. You have no objection to our asking you a few questions?”

“Thank you for coming to visit. And for your sympathy. It’s Yonatan who needs the sympathy, but he is away now. And Azariah needs it too.”

“Who’s Azariah?”

“Yoni’s and my friend. There are three of us.”

“What do you mean, three of you?”

“We’re three friends.”

“Please, Mrs. Lifshitz. Try to keep your answers to the point. That way we can be the most help and the least bother to you.”

“Everyone is being very kind and helpful. Srulik, and you, and Yakov. And anyway, winter is almost over and spring is on its way.”

“All right, then. I’ll read you what we’ve got written here, and then Yakov will take down whatever you have to add. You may stop me any time you find inaccuracies.”

Rimona smiled at the picture on the calendar. For some reason I recalled that time in the dining hall when she told me I shouldn’t be sad because everything was looking up.

“All right. Lifshitz, Yonatan. Father’s name, Yisra’el … is that right? Aged twenty-six. Married. No children.”

“Just Efrat.”

“Who’s Efrat?”

“Our daughter.”

“Begging your pardon?”

I was forced to intervene at this point. “That’s their baby who died a year ago.”

“Our sympathy. If this isn’t too difficult for you, perhaps we can proceed?”

“It isn’t difficult for me. Is it for you?”

“Army rank, captain. A reservist in reconnaissance. With a medal for bravery. ‘Distinguished conduct under fire,’ it says here. Last worked as a mechanic. A member of this kibbutz. Five foot ten inches. Dark complexion. Longish hair. No identifying marks. Left home without notice early Wednesday morning, March 2. Destination unknown. Left behind no written message. Dressed in an army uniform and thought to be armed. Do you happen to know where he got the weapon? Did he have a license for it? What kind was it?”

“It was black, I think. From the army. It was kept in a locked chest under the bed.”

“Why do you think he took it with him?”

“He always does.”

“What do you mean by ‘always’?”

“Whenever he’s called.”

“But this time I understand that he was not called.”

“Oh, but he was.”

“By whom?”

“He didn’t say. He didn’t exactly know. He just heard them calling him from far away and said that he had to go. And he really did have to.”

“When exactly did he tell you all this?”

“In the middle of the night once. When it was raining very hard. He said he was being called somewhere and they wouldn’t wait forever.”

“When exactly did he say this?”

“I already told you. In the rain.”

“Where did he say this call was coming from?”