To Decker, New York had always been synonymous with Manhattan. But the state was big and wide and full of open space. Long stretches of glens and valleys sided rolling mountains and dense forest. Because it was dark, the terrain showed only shapes and shadows, but occasionally he could make out a New England clapboard house lit from the inside, or even a small brick structure that sat on the edge of the highway. Once he saw a barn illuminated by several exterior lights, in front of it a hand-painted sign boasting antiques as well as fresh farm products. He could see the mist falling in the light’s beam, the sign streaked with water. In the background, he caught glimpses of fields, but nothing appeared to be growing.

Jonathan caught his brother staring out the window. “It’s New York’s Corn Belt.”

“I didn’t realize it was so rural.”

“Very rural. You should feel right at home.”

Decker laid on the accent. “Yeah, that there city is too durn big for my blood.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m teasing. Mellow out.”

“I’m edgy.” Jonathan clutched the steering wheel with his gloved hands, shivering as he drove. “I’ve never been shot at.”

“No one’s shooting at us now.”

“Baruch Hashem,” Jonathan intoned as he thanked God.

“Good thing, too, with only one bullet.” Decker held the snub-nose. “That’s all right. Guns can give you a false sense of security. Lack of ammo will make us think.”

“Any new theories?”

“No, I’m not holding back. Want me to drive for a little, Jon?”

“No, I’ll do it because at least I have some idea of where I’m going.”

Decker tried the cell again. Whereas before he got a momentary dial tone, this time he got nothing.

“The farther upstate, the less likely we are to get a connection,” Jonathan said.

“How far away are we in terms of time?”

“I’d say maybe twenty minutes.”

“How’s the gas gauge?”

“Steady. He didn’t hit the tank. And I filled up right when I got into Quinton. Gas isn’t the problem. We finished those bagels pretty quickly. Are you still hungry?”

Decker was stunned. “You have food?”

“Raisie packed me Danish before I left shiva. She figured that maybe I could use a nosh.”

“She figured right.”

“It’s all the way in the back.”

Decker unbuckled his belt. “Don’t get into an accident.”

“As long as no one snipes at us, that won’t be a problem.”

Climbing over the backseat, Decker went headfirst into the back of the van and extracted a large paper grocery bag. Sitting in the backseat, he pulled out an aluminum-wrapped bundle. Inside were a dozen assorted Danish. There were also several cans of Diet Coke, as if the sugar lacking in the soda compensated for the pounds of sugar in the baked goods. Using contortion and great skill, he wedged himself back into the front passenger’s seat. “I’ve got cheese, apple, chocolate, cherry… what is this?” He smelled it. “I think it’s mun—”