“I don’t trust cops.”

“You’re dating one.”

“She is not a cop; she is Cindy.”

“And I’m her father.”

“Even more reason not to trust you.”

Decker glared at him, then shifted his eyes away and broke into laughter. “Okay. Then we’ll freeze our asses off and talk out here.”

The silence between them matched the silence on the street.

Koby ran his hand over his face. “My God … I’m sorry.”

“No, no”—Decker threw his hand on his shoulder—“I’m being pushy because I’m anxious. Koby, I’d like to talk in my car because it’s more private and it’s warmer. But if that’s not what you want, I’m fine here.”

“Where’s your car?”

Decker pointed to his vintage black Porsche 911 Targa parked by the curb. Koby’s eyes widened. “That’s your car?”

“No, that’s my hobby. I usually drive a ’99 Toyota Camry, but I wanted to get here in a hurry and this baby moves.” Decker clicked the unlock button on the remote and held out his arm. “After you.”

Koby went into the passenger’s side. Decker sat behind the wheel. He said, “Son, I am going into the interview room. I’m going to hear what my daughter has to say. Now in order to help her, I need to know the truth. Whatever you tell me stays between the two of us.”

Staring out the windshield, Koby said, “I told you what happened.”

“No, you told me an approximation of what happened. Koby, I’d die for Cindy. I certainly would have no qualms about lying for her. We’re on the same side. But to help her as much as I can, I’ve got to know what really happened—in your words, not Cindy’s.”

Koby ran his hands down his face, then blew out air. “It was like I told you—”

“No, it wasn’t—”

“Let me finish … please.”

“Sorry,” Decker said. “Sorry. Go on.”

“It was like I told you.” Koby spoke softer this time. “We were driving when Cindy noticed a car following us. We pulled over to get the license, and then as we pulled out, the car came after us and opened fire. We fired back. …” He regarded Decker. “I fired back. She was driving. I did the shooting.”

“With her gun?”

“Yes, of course—a Beretta nine-millimeter semiautomatic. I don’t own a gun.”

“Go on.”

“When it was over, she said it will look bad for her if they find out that I fired her weapon. If there is death or injury in the other car, I would get into bigger trouble than she would. So we switch places in the story. I don’t want to do it. I tell her that I will take responsibility. She begged me to listen to her. So I listened.”

“She was right.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I know how the system works. I’m telling you she was right.”

“I don’t need her to cover for me.”

“Actually, what you both need is to get out of this as cleanly as possible.”