Orit’s voice dropped. “My brother…he and Dalia would want to be buried in Israel. All Jews should be buried in Israel.” She inhaled a mouthful of smoke and blew it out in one big gust. “I help you any way I can. Just leave my parents alone.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Decker said, “They know something, don’t they?”

Orit shook her head. “Leave them alone.”

“Orit,” Decker said softly. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to….” He stood, walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. The gesture made her stiffen. He immediately backed off.

“You’re a tough lady, you know that?”

“You live in a country with all its life wars, you’d be tough. Lucky for you Americans, war is something that always happens on other people’s land.”

Again, the room was quiet. Orit turned and pointed to Decker. “You have the look. You were in the Gulf War?”

Decker shook his head. “Vietnam.”

“Ah, that’s right. I forgot about that. A fiasco that wasn’t ours.” She regarded Decker. “The same look as my husband. In the eyes. I trust someone with that look. You’ve been to hell and back, nachon?”

“Nachon,” Decker answered.

Orit paused. “You want to help the boys. I don’t know where they are. But I say to you this. If they are with my parents, my parents aren’t telling me.”

Decker gave Marge a sidelong glance. “You think your parents are trying to protect the boys?”

“Their son and daughter-in-law was murdered. You tell me the boys are running, afraid for their lives. So what do you think?” Orit threw her cigarette down and crushed it with a high heel. “If the boys are with them, yes, they are protective. Anyway, they don’t tell me anything. Maybe they don’t want me to know. Maybe they think I be scared, scared for my kids. But between my husband and me, we’ll be okay. I was in the army, too, you know.”

“What was your assignment?” Decker said.

“Desk job,” Orit said. “But I went through basic training. I know how to use an Uzi. Someone makes the wrong move here, I’ll blow the head off.”

Marge and Decker traded looks. Decker said, “And you’re positive you don’t know where your nephews are?”

“You give me a chumash, I put my hand on it and make a shevuah, Mr. Sergeant. You know what a shevuah is?”

“An oath,” Decker said.

Orit nodded. “Yes, an oath. I make an oath on my Bible. You don’t believe me, give me a Bible.”

“I believe you,” Decker said. “I believe you because I think you really care about your nephews.”