He hadn’t any idea where Rina had gone; he hadn’t a clue on how to proceed to find her. All he had was the license plate of the Subaru. Decker had called the rental agency and had asked in English if their cars had been equipped with tracking devices. The two people he spoke to hadn’t the faintest idea of what he was talking about. He hung up in disgust, his stomach sizzling in its own juices.

The harsh ring of the phone made him jump. He grabbed it and muttered an angry hello.

It was the long-distance operator.

Fuck! Now something was wrong at home. And here he was, sick with worry ten thousand miles away.

Thanks to good old fiber optics, the voice on the other end was familiar and clear. An instant wave of relief came over him. It wasn’t his mother-in-law or the baby nurse or Sammy or Jake. It was Marge.

Decker caught his breath and said, “What time is it over there?”

“Two in the morning. What’s it over there? About one in the afternoon?”

“About.”

“Yeah, I’m all messed up with the time zones. I called your hotel yesterday—four o’clock in the afternoon my time. Some indignant desk clerk informed me in no uncertain terms that it was two o’clock A.M. over there and she was not going to wake you for anything less than an emergency. I figured I’d call back later. You’ve been busy?”

“Nonstop since we arrived yesterday.” Decker took out his pad and pencil. “I take it you have some news?”

“First, a quick update on the Honey Klein case. I got a call from a Sturgis in West LA. I told him you were in Israel and he told me you should get a job as a clairvoyant.”

“Honey is here?”

“No one’s certain, but Manhattan police think so. Right after Klein’s murder, they set up a specialized team to go out to the village—a couple of Jewish cops on the force who could speak Yiddish, including one woman. The men were mute, of course. With the women, it was a different story. While they weren’t exactly chatty, some things about Honey did come out. She had been talking for a long time about going to live in Israel. Then, right before Honey left for vacation, one of the neighbors saw a thick envelope sitting in front of Honey’s house; the return address was a federal office building. She had asked Honey about it. Honey had replied that she had updated their passports.”

“Interesting,” Decker said. “Do they have any evidence she was involved in her husband’s murder?”

“No evidence. But police have got a motive.”

“Let me guess. Her husband had been abusing her and the children. She wanted to get away, but he wouldn’t let her. So she took the kids and fled.”