“We don’t know where the boy is. That’s all we know right now. We don’t know where he is. One step at a time. First, you clear the place. Send the guests home. Have the kids—the brothers, sisters, and cousins—wait in the back room. I’ll talk to them in a moment.”

It took fifteen minutes for everyone to find coats and jackets. People patted hands, reassured the distraught parents and grandparents. Nobody believed a word they were saying.

When everyone was gone, Decker sat down at the dining-room table and tried to clear his mind of morbid thoughts. Perversely, all he could think about were the tragedies. The overwhelming grief on the parents’ faces as he broke the bad news. It made his stomach churn.

The table was still piled with food. But the salad had wilted under the weight of the dressing, the cooked vegetables had wrinkled, the edges of the roast beef had begun to curl. It was past four and Decker hadn’t eaten all day. He needed nutrition if he was going to think clearly. He picked up a chicken leg and bit into it.

“Sorry, but I’ve got to get something in my stomach,” he said.

Shimon gave him a clean plate. “Of course. Of course. You need to eat. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, this is just fine,” Decker said.

Absently, Ezra said, “Mincha’s in twenty minutes.”

No one said anything.

“Tephila!” Ezra said. “I need to pray.” His eyes flooded with tears. “Tephila! Tzedakah! Tshuvah!” He buried his head in his hands and held back tears. “It’s my fault…. I don’t learn with him anymore…. I’m not patient enough—”

“Ezra, stop it,” Shimon said. “You’re a fine father.”

With moist eyes, Ezra looked at Decker. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Decker said. “It’s tough. But there’s still a lot we can do. Ezra, did you specifically ask your children if they knew where he might be?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“And they don’t know?” Decker said.

Ezra shook his head.

“Has Noam ever run away before?”

“Not like this,” Ezra said.

“But he’s run away?” Decker asked.

“No!” Ezra said. “He wanders off sometimes but he always comes back. And he wouldn’t wander off on Rosh Hashanah. There’s no place for him to go.”

No place in Boro Park, Decker thought. He turned to Jonathan and said, “Whose Ford Matador is parked out front?”

“It’s mine,” Jonathan said.

“Give me the keys,” Decker said. “A car can cover ground we can’t do on foot. I’ll start as soon as I finish with the kids.”