“I’m not a rich man,” Ezra said. “I’m a bookkeeper for a sporting goods store and Breina teaches a little at the local girls’ school. We get by but have nothing other than the house. Who would kidnap for a house?”

“How about your parents? Your brothers or sisters?”

“No one on either side is rich. My brother Shimmy is comfortable, but he’s not exactly a millionaire. In this community, there are richer people to grab from.” Ezra sighed. “It’s bad, nu?”

Decker said, “It’s only been one night, Ezra. It’s way too early for gloom and doom.” He was about to bring up the notion of a private investigator, but the look in Ezra’s eyes held him off. And those self-deprecating words: I’m not a rich man.

Ezra said, “You are very reassuring, Akiva. Not full of false promises…but calm…reassuring.” He took a deep breath and blurted out, “I was a loudmouth yesterday—”

“Please—”

“No,” Ezra went on. “Yom Kippur is in ten days. I ask you to forgive me.”

Such a plaintive note in his voice. Decker thought: Put the goddamn PI on hold. Now was not the time. It was useless to tell Ezra there was no need for forgiveness. To him, forgiveness was the first step in the process of cleansing the soul.

“Of course I forgive you,” Decker said. “And forgive me if I did anything to offend you.”

“You didn’t,” Ezra said. “But it just shows me once again, how wrong it is to go on first impressions.”

Mine was that bad? Decker thought.

Ezra said, “Now I can see why Rina married you.”

Decker wasn’t sure, but he thought that was a compliment.

Decker told Ezra to meet him at Frieda Levine’s house after shul, then immediately wondered just why in hell he had designated her house as a rendezvous spot. Yes, there was some logic to it—it had been the center of activity yesterday—but he could easily have told Ezra to meet him at the Lazarus house.

Why did he do that?

Why?

Oh, the hell with analyzing. He’d figure it all out when he was back in L.A. When he was safe.

At the appointed hour, Decker arrived at the Levine house, opening the door and stepping inside without bothering to knock. The whole family was waiting, greeting him with muted nods, with somber eyes, with unspoken pleas for help.

He felt twice his age, shackled by a not-so-subconscious motivation to prove himself to these people. Yes, he wanted out. But he also wanted them to like him even if he left them hanging. He nodded back at the clan and told Ezra he was ready to begin his interviews with Noam’s friends.