“I said I wasn’t,” Abel said, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Fine.” Decker sipped his coffee. “I’ll toss ’em.”

“I’ll take ’em,” Abel said. “You shouldn’t be wasting good food.” He stubbed out his smoke and devoured the first piece of toast in three bites.

Decker asked, “So what do you aim to do for me, Abe?”

“I figure I’ll rebuild everything from the ground up. When I’m done with the barn, I’ll move on to the stable. The whole thing shouldn’t be costing more than a couple hundred worth of lumber, maybe another hundred for the hardware.”

“I’ll pay for the supplies,” Decker said.

“All right,” Abel said. “I’ll feed and exercise your animals, if you want.”

“Sure. That’ll save me about an hour a day. If you want to take a pleasure ride, go ahead. Just do it in the morning or late afternoon. It’s too hot otherwise.”

“I hear you.”

“Abe,” Decker said, “how about if you start the job a week from now? I’ve got someone coming in from out of town this afternoon. I’m going to need some privacy.”

“I’ll be discreet.”

“No offense, but I don’t want you around,” Decker said. “I don’t want anyone around. The barn can wait.”

Abel bit his lip and nodded.

Decker said, “It’s nothing personal….”

“I know.”

“Call it quits around noon. It starts getting pretty hot out here anyway.”

“I’ll be gone.”

Decker sighed and gave Abel a firm pat on his shoulder. “Be talking to you. Hey, you want a beer or anything for later on?”

“Only if it’s dark and imported,” Abel said. “I’m picky about my brews.”

“I’ve got some Dos Equis. I’ll bring you out a bottle.”

“Thanks.”

Decker waited a moment, wishing he could think of something to say. Once conversation with Abel had been as natural as a draw of breath. But that was many moons ago.

He went inside the house to fetch the beer.

Marge showed the picture of Douglas Miller to MacPherson.

“Know this one, Paulie?”

MacPherson glanced over his shoulder. “No. What’s the piss-bucket done?”

“Kidnapped his daughter,” Marge said. “Doesn’t look familiar to you? He looked familiar to Mike and me.”

“Never seen him,” MacPherson said.

Marge rapped her knuckles on her head. “The mug books! Shit, my brain was mud last night. I should have made an appointment for the bounty hunter to come in and take a look. I hope he’s still in town.” She pocketed the picture and dialed the phone. Decker walked into the squad room.

“Ah, the man’s big day,” MacPherson said, with a leer on his face.

“You talking to me?” Decker asked.

“I believe I am, Rabbi. Correct me if I’m wrong, but is not this indeed the day that the fair Rina arrives?”