“Almost four and finally out of diapers, which is good. They’re so tall and big that Cindy was running out of disposable options.”

“Maybe the next time we can all get together.”

Decker said, “That would be great although I’m not sure I could handle all that energy in one room.”

Rina spoke up from the floor. “This comment is from a man who has handled hundreds of homicides?”

“My cases involved a different type of energy. Besides, not one homicide victim has ever given me lip.” He fished out his car keys. “I’ll pick you up in about two, three hours?”

“That should be perfect. Lily will be napping by then anyway.” Rina looked at Rachel for confirmation.

The young woman shrugged. “In a perfect world, that would be a yes.”

IT TOOK A half hour to reach the apartment building and then another fifteen minutes to find a parking space. When Decker finally nabbed a spot, it was eight blocks away from the Sobels’ address and required him to back the car into a snowdrift that exploded onto his rear bumper. His blood must have thickened. It was cold but not nearly as cold as up north. He didn’t even bother with gloves. Decker had gotten used to the fresh snow crunching under his boots, slow going but pristine. The Manhattan sidewalks were awash in a thin, salty sludge that was often slippery. The current skies were dove gray and while not gloomy, there wasn’t a hint of sunshine anywhere.

Melanie and Rick Sobel resided in a complex between Broadway and Amsterdam. The lobby was small and spare with a black, granite floor and mahogany-paneled walls. A doorman let him in. Another uniformed man who sat behind a desk rang up the Sobel unit. Once given permission to enter, Decker rode the elevator to floor 24 out of 40.

He stepped out of the lift and into an anteroom with two doors. The one on his left was closed, but the one on his right was wide open. He knocked anyway and a female voice told him to come inside. He closed the door behind him and waited in an entry hall. From his vantage point, he could peek into a white space that defined the living room. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows were rooftops and then Central Park, which, in wintertime, was a quilt of snow and brown. On sunny days, the space would be flooded with light and heat. Unfortunately it was steely outside and the cold had seeped through the glass.

Melanie showed up a minute later, dressed in a white tank top and a white short skirt. She held out her hand to shake Decker’s, and then she rubbed her arms. “It’s freezing in here.”

“It’s a little frosty.”