Rina was exhausted. After she had dropped the boys off at the yeshiva, she had raced back to her parents’ house to put Hannah to bed. Once the baby had fallen asleep, she had made another trek out to the yeshiva to say good night to the boys and to talk to the Rav about Honey. She must have put another hundred miles on her aged Volvo. But Rina felt she had no choice. Her family was safe and sound. How could she sleep soundly when Honey and her children were missing? Where were they now?

Rabbi Schulman went over to a shelf and pulled out a bottle of schnapps. “An old man must do many things to keep a sound mind.” He smiled, but Rina felt he looked troubled. She said nothing, biding her time until Schulman finished his drink.

Finally, the old man put down his shot glass and sat down at his desk chair. He stroked his beard. “I spoke to the Leibbener Rebbe. I’m afraid I have nothing elucidating to add.”

Rina waited. Schulman took his time.

“Of course, the Rebbe is shocked and saddened by Gershon Klein’s untimely and violent death. And he is very upset about the disappearances of Honey and her children. However, he is also concerned for your family’s welfare, Rina Miriam. He wishes no hurt or harm to come to any of you.”

“He thinks we might be in danger?”

“If you investigate Honey’s disappearance, yes, he feels you may be endangering not only Honey and her children, but you and your family.”

“Why?”

“I’m not certain. But for your protection, he has recommended that the matter be left up to the police in New York. That neither you—nor Akiva—conduct any independent investigation.”

It took a moment for Rina to digest what Schulman had told her. “He doesn’t want Akiva to at least look for the family?”

“It appears that way.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Schulman raised his eyes. Rina caught it. “You’re as puzzled by his request as I am.”

“Indeed, I am, Rina Miriam.” Schulman took a moment to choose his words. “Though you did not hire me to be Akiva’s advocate, I took the liberty of extolling your husband’s exceptional talents as a policeman. The Rebbe still held firm to his request. Let Manhattan worry about Gershon’s death.”

“But what about Honey—and the children?”

The old man sighed, his shoulders hunched by the burden of life. “The Rebbe…seemed to feel…that they are best left in the hands of Hashem.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t understand,” Rina whispered. “Does he mean that they’re…dead or that they’re okay?”