He crossed the threshold of the door, stepping in just far enough to let Rina close the door. Wrinkled and disheveled, it was clear that he’d been wearing his clothes for a very long time. His movements were jerky, spasmodic—like a pinball confined to a very small machine. “I shouldn’t have come here.” Breathless. “Waking you like some madman. I’m not a madman!”

“Of course you’re not—”

“Your husband is still asleep? Don’t wake him. I’ll come back—” He stared at Sammy, then pointed at him with a shaking finger. “What’s on his arm…his head?”

Rina looked over his shoulder. “Tefillin…phylacteries.”

“My father had them. I don’t know what he did with them. But I know he had them.” A pause. “I wonder what became of them?” Golding began to pace, throwing his arms behind his back. Groucho Marx on methamphetamines. “You’re the one who sent out the flyer for the hate crimes council at the synagogue. We sent you some money, you know.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you.”

“You sent us a thank-you card—a nice one considering it was Ernesto who trashed the place.” Tears welled up in the man’s eyes. “He wasn’t a bad kid, you know.”

“Of course—”

“He used…” Golding coughed to hide a sob. “He used to talk about your husband. Did your husband tell you about that?”

“No, sir, he keeps his business confidential.”

“They used to talk…your husband and Ernesto. Ask him. Ernesto wasn’t a bad kid.”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t know!” Golding grabbed her arm until he and Rina were almost nose to nose. “You don’t know. But I’m telling you the truth. He had his problems, but he was a good kid!”

In the background, Rina could see Sammy walking toward the bedroom. Rina shook her head ever so slightly. Instead of pulling away, she placed her hand atop his. “A parent knows his child better than anyone; I believe you, Mr. Golding.”

The man’s face crumpled, his chin quivering as a tear fell down a cheek. He let go of her arm, leaving behind fresh finger marks. “Thank you!”

“Please sit down—”

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whimpered. “Bothering you—”

“Please sit down, Mr. Golding. Let me get my husband for you.”

“You’re being very hospitable…especially after what Ernesto did to your synagogue.” Then Golding broke down, crying out dry, heavy sobs.

A few tears escaped from Rina’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. Let me get Lieutenant Decker. I know he’d like to see you.”

“No, he wouldn’t!” The man continued to sob. “I yelled at him yesterday! I insulted him!”

“I’m sure you did nothing of the sort,” Rina said softly. “Besides, I yell at him all the time and he still talks to me. I’ll get him for you.”