Once the bite had been dressed, he phoned the station and told them he’d be in later. A call to Mrs. Bates was next. Erin would be home at four, but the father wouldn’t arrive until seven—after the start of Shabbos. Decker told Mrs. Bates he’d see Erin and reschedule her husband for sometime next week. The third call he made was to Chris Truscott. No one answered, so he figured he’d take a drive out to Venice and check out the boyfriend’s place personally.

He slipped on a shirt gingerly, wincing at each movement of his arm. It even hurt to breathe. Goddam it, he told himself. What the hell is wrong with you? So she looked like Cindy and it startled you. You’ve been a cop for almost twenty years. How could you let her get to you like that?

It was time for shacharis. He put on a kipah and took out his tefillin. Kissing the two small prayer boxes, he fitted one atop his head, the seat of man’s intelligence, and the other on his left bicep, the symbol of his strength. He wound the leather strap down his arm, across his hand and around his middle finger. He looked at both arms. One was encased in black as a symbol of religious devotion, the other in white, thanks to a whore.

Opening the siddur, he began the morning prayers, mumbling them in English by rote, his mind darting between the holy words he was uttering and the hellish images of last night. Thirty minutes later he closed the siddur, took off the phylacteries, and slipped on his shoulder harness. It was tight, the gun weighing heavily on his sore flesh.

The phone pierced his eardrums. But the voice on the other end was balm.

“Good morning, Peter.”

“Hi, Honey,” he answered.

“How was Hollywood?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Peter, you sound bad.”

“I’m just tired.”

“But are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“I had a call from Sarah Libba this morning. She invited the boys and me over for Shabbos lunch. She said you’re coming.”

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be nice, Peter.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you send her anything?”

Shit.

“Not yet.”

“How about for Rebbitzen Shulman?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to get them something for you?”

“I’ll call a florist if you’re too busy.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s no bother.”

“Thanks.”

“Peter, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah. I’m really looking forward to Shabbos.”

“So am I.”

“I love you, Rina. Thanks again for the watch. No one has ever given me anything that beautiful.”

“It’s well deserved. I’ll let you go now.”

“See you tonight in shul.”

“Bye, Peter.”

She hung up. For a moment, he felt a strong urge to call her back, but resisted it and walked out the door.