Walking along Riverside Drive, he bundled up in his coat and stuck his hands in his pockets. The sky was all pewter and charcoals, enclosing the Hudson River like dented armor. A pungent wind was roughing up the water’s surface. Decker felt the sting in his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. Brisk in step, he spotted a taxi and flagged it down. As soon as he did it, he realized he didn’t know where he wanted to go.

With the case stalling and no new leads, there wasn’t any reason to stay in Manhattan. Yet, just as Rina had predicted, he was reluctant to let go. Why had the Liebers turned hostile? Stress manifesting itself or the sinking realization that Decker would not be able to work miracles? A true professional would have returned to Quinton and bullied the family into cooperation. But that was the problem: The Liebers were family. His relationship with his half brother Jonathan wasn’t fixed in concrete, and Decker didn’t want to jeopardize a tenuous bond that took ten years to build.

His options were dwindling, but he still had some recourse left. Since he was in Manhattan anyway, he could pay a visit to Leon Hershfield. The attorney was working on a high-profile case, and because Hershfield wouldn’t work on Saturday, logic dictated that the lawyer was probably in his office on Sunday.

He gave the driver the Fifth Avenue address, calling Hershfield on his cell phone. The lawyer didn’t sound thrilled to hear from him, but he was smart enough to invite Decker over. Twenty minutes later, Hershfield met him at the door to his office. He was impeccably dressed in sporty attire—a camel-hair jacket over gray slacks, a white shirt, and red tie. Not the usual Brioni or Kiton suit, but still appropriate for a seven-figure, high-powered attorney. Hershfield’s shoes looked to be boots—elephant hide.

“No rest for the weary,” he told Decker as he closed the door behind him. “Sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, I’m all right.”

A glance at his wrist revealed a thick gold watchband. Hershfield said, “It’s noon. How about some lunch? I was going to order in. The Broughder case has been incredibly time-consuming. Who has time to go out? But I’d be happy to order you a sandwich or bagel.”

Decker smiled. Hershfield had just related a page’s worth of hidden messages: I’m a busy man, I’ve got commitments, and I’ve got time restraints. You’re imposing on them. I’ve looked at my watch. I’m clocking you.

“No, thank you, Counselor. I shouldn’t be here more than a few minutes. Thank you for your time.”

Message received loud and clear.

Hershfield sat back in his desk chair. “So how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Jet lag.”

“I’m sure that’s part of it.”

Silence.

“Are you making progress to your satisfaction?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Part of it is I’m working blind.” Decker licked his lips. “I’m getting this strange feeling that I’m not wanted.”