Rav Schulman and his wife lived in the largest house in the tract. Not because his ego demanded it—although that would have been fitting—but because the couple was always entertaining guests. Sammy and Jacob were just two of the many people who revolved through the Schulmans’ doors. The house had six bedrooms upstairs and a downstairs with no living room or den. Most of the bottom level space had been converted to a communal dining room dressed with long, linen-covered tables. What space was left had been allocated for a kitchen, a service bathroom, and the Rav’s study.

The old man swung open an unlocked door and waved Rina inside. As she came in, the smell of homemade chicken soup opened her nostrils. Schulman sniffed deeply.

“Smells good.”

“Very,” Rina answered. “The Rebbitzen is a wonderful cook.”

“I have been truly blessed. Not only is the Rebbitzen a eshet chayil, but a superb chef, Baruch Hashem. Me? Maybe I can boil an egg.”

The old man took a seat at one of the dining tables, keeping the front door wide open. In Jewish law, it was forbidden for a man and women who weren’t married to each other to be alone in a closed room. From the Rav’s action, Rina surmised that no one else was home.

Schulman folded his hands and set them on the table, inviting Rina to sit across from him. He said, “As I recall, Rina Miriam, you were quite a cook yourself.”

“With time, I improved.” She smiled. “The first time you and the Rebbitzen ate over our house, Rav Schulman, I burned the roast.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I do very much. All of us ate leather that night. I should have brought in take-out and made wallets out of the meat.”

“And what did Yitzchak say to you after the meal was over?”

“He told me I prepared a lovely meal and that the roast was delicious.”

Schulman smiled sadly. “He was a good boy, my Yitzchak, alav shalom. I miss him still.”

Rina nodded but said nothing.

“Akiva is a good boy as well. Different those two, but similar in character. Both were endowed with a strong moral fiber.” He smiled again. “And with a strong love for you.”

“I’ve been very fortunate, Baruch Hashem.”

“Tell me how my Akiva is doing? As tormented as ever?”

Rina let go with a small smile. “He works hard.”

“That disappearing Israeli family…that is Akiva’s assignment?”

“Yes, Rav.”

“And have they found any trace of the family yet?”

Rina lowered her eyes. “I think they found the parents…their bodies this morning.”

The old man winced. “Ah, such a terrible, terrible thing. Akiva must be very upset.”

“He says it’s his job—Homicide. I don’t see how a person can ever get used to such horror, but I’m not a cop.”