“Good Lord, what in the world!”

Rina stood up, pulling her terry-cloth robe tightly around her body. “You’re shivering. Go put a robe on.”

Ignoring her, Decker picked up a picture. It was a head shot. The eyes were closed, the mouth slightly agape, the hair pulled off the face. The woman appeared to be around forty. Even without benefit of color, he had seen enough postmortem photos to know what he was studying. “Rina, what’s going on!”

She took the picture from him and set it back down on the table. “My grandmother.” She slipped her arms around her husband, biting his mustache gently. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time, you’re shivering. Go put on a robe.” She kissed his nose. “Or better yet, go back to sleep.”

Sleep was definitely not on the agenda. He regarded his wife, with her pale skin and her intense eyes that shone sapphire in the dim light. Her raven hair was mussed and flyaway, brushing against her shoulders. It was longer than he had remembered. He rarely saw her tresses loose. As a religious woman, Rina kept her hair pinned or in a braid with the top of her head covered by a tam or kerchief. He tried out a suggestive look. “I’ll go back to bed if you go back to bed.”

Her smile was tired. “That’ll work for me. Just let me clean up.”

His eyes went back to the table. Among the array of handwritten pages and photographs was a German-English dictionary. His brain started to fire. “Okay, I’m awake now. You snagged me. I am now curious. What is this all about?”

“You want the lowdown on this before or after?”

It wasn’t even close. “After. You got my hopes up, woman.”

“I have no intention of dashing them. Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Hygiene is a turn-on.” She swatted his rear. “Go.”

“Should I shave?”

“It might wake up Hannah.”

Nix the shaving. He went back into the bedroom, with his expectations and the free-floating anxiety that was now his ever-present companion. He’d become accustomed to the knots in his stomach, gauging his agitation by the constriction of his gut. It was as if an invisible belt encircled his belly. Sometimes it was tight, sometimes it went slack, but it was always there.

Under the covers, his body turned warm, but his feet were still cold. He was careful not to rest them against Rina’s smooth legs when she joined him. To Decker, sex was a beautiful thing. For twenty-plus minutes, he traveled a different universe, a man free of a cerebral cortex. The lack of conscious thought during the act was so incredibly liberating, not to mention the ultimate act of release. Afterward came the intimacy. As Rina nestled in his arms, her head resting against his chest, he stroked her hair, his thoughts flashing on images he didn’t want to think about.

“Okay. Now you can tell me. What’s with the photographs?”