Emmanuel Lieber lived in a one-story white clapboard house with a wraparound porch and a wood-shingled roof. The front lawn was dead from winter fallout, but several large trees hinted green-bud teasing of spring renewal. A stone walkway led up to an old oak door coated with peeling varnish. As Decker climbed the three steps up, he could hear the clatter of conversation—low, deep voices. Standing on the porch, he peeked through the window and saw swarms of men dressed in black Chasidic garb. No shtreimels however. That could be significant.

He was about to lift the knocker, but then the door opened and three Chasids flew out, eyes turned downward, hands behind their backs, their payot flying as they fast-walked past him.

Decker went inside.

The crowd was so thick, so without light and air, that he felt as if he were in the middle of a twister. The sheer density made it hard to move. Eventually, he was swept toward the front, into the grief-stricken family that included three sisters, one brother, and a father steeped in abject tragedy. They were seated on pillows that rested on the floor, their eyes saturated with deep despair. Mr. Lieber and Chaim wore black pants, black shoes, and white shirts that had been intentionally ripped directly under the collar: the indication of mourning. Atop their heads were large black yarmulkes. The three sisters wore somber-colored skirts and blouses also torn near the collar. Two of the three women had on wigs; Raisie had elected to wear a scarf.

Jonathan was at his elbow. He guided him into a corner and offered Decker some coffee.

“I’m fine.”

“Soda, water?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Thanks for coming down,” Jonathan told him. “Especially since you must be on a very tight schedule.”

“Not too bad, actually. The plane doesn’t leave until nine tonight.”

“Oh…” An uncomfortable pause. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”

Decker regarded his half brother. “Tonight.”

Jonathan nodded. “Good. I mean, not good. I mean… I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to leave.”

“You’re looking tense, Jon. Anything wrong?”

Jonathan hesitated. “No… just. What can I say, Akiva? What can I say?”

“You can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Me, I just can’t… stop thinking about Shayndie.”

Guilt tugged at Decker’s heart. “It’s terrible.”

Jonathan nodded but didn’t add anything. His gaze wandered over the crowd, resting on Chaim’s face. The two of them locked eyes, but then Chaim turned away.

Jonathan said, “Let me introduce you to my father-in-law.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, no. I insist.”

Although Decker didn’t know Jonathan that well, he knew when someone was unsettled. Unsettled was a euphemism. If Decker were objective, he’d bet that Jonathan was sitting on something. But this was not the time for confrontation, especially since Decker hadn’t owned up to the truth last night. Maybe he could pull it out of Jonathan later on.

A moment later, Decker was standing in front of a beaten old man. Mr. Lieber’s eyes went to Decker’s face and failed to register any recognition. But then he noticed Jonathan… standing next to this strange large man in a brown suit. Quickly, the old man put two and two together. He acknowledged him with a nod.