“Cheese.”

Decker handed him a pastry. He chose an apple turnover and downed it in three bites. “Should I pop the top on this soda can for you? This vehicle certainly has enough cup holders.”

“Please.”

He opened two cans of Diet Coke. “Your wife is very smart.”

“All Jewish women are smart when it comes to food.”

“Yeah, I can see Rina doing something like that.”

“Did you talk to her today?”

“Just in the morning. She’s probably worried about me. Turns out for good reason.”

They rode in contemplative quiet, Decker trying to figure out Chaim’s role in what appeared to be a sophisticated ecstasy ring. Mastermind? Unwitting abettor? Dupe?

“There it is,” Jonathan told him.

“I don’t see anything.”

“The turnoff. We’re about ten minutes away.”

As they drove, Decker felt a prickling on the back of his neck. Over the years, he had learned not to ignore intuitive pulses.

“Almost there,” Jonathan told him.

Jittery, Decker swept his eyes across the terrain. First he studied what was directly in front of him, then to the right, glancing at the side mirror. He turned around and scanned over his shoulder, along with a check in the rearview mirror, then left for the side mirror.

“We should be right on top of it,” Jonathan announced.

Off the roadway, Decker spotted several glints of chrome, but there were no lights up ahead. “Jon, pull over and stop.”

“What? Why?” But Jonathan followed instructions, rolling the van over a mud-coated field. “What’s wrong now?”

“Does Chaim’s warehouse have a parking lot?”

“Of course.”

“So why are these vehicles parked here, in a muddy field?” Decker pointed to a Jeep Cherokee and a Mitsubishi Montero.

“Maybe the lot was flooded.”

“Why don’t I think that’s the case?” Decker reached into the middle section of the van and dragged over the bags of clothing resting on the seats. There was a rain slicker for him and one for his brother. Then came the gloves. Lastly, he placed plastic bags around his shoes and tied them over his ankles, instructing Jonathan to do the same. When they were finished, he took the flashlight and opened the door. Not anxious to fall, he took his time getting over to the Cherokee. He tried the door, but it was locked. He shone the light through the side windows, his eyes meticulously observing what was inside.

Jonathan had caught up with him. “Anything interesting?”

“Young person’s car… at least the taste in music is young—my son’s age. I can tell by the CD covers on the floor.” Another pass of the beam through the interior. “Pills on the seat. See how they’re stamped—the hearts, that one with a ’toon on it? It’s ecstasy. Trash on the floor—beer bottles, cigarette butts…” He looked at his brother. “A couple of Quinton kids got arrested for bad behavior with ecstasy down in Miami—Philip Caldwell and Ryan Anderson. Betcha this baby belongs to one of them.”

He went over to the Montero and peered inside.