She started toward the bedroom, but Golding jumped up and grabbed her arm again. “Please, I don’t want to put you out.”

But Sammy had already gone into the bedroom. In a flash, Decker appeared, still bare-chested underneath a terry-cloth robe. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a red nest of tangles, and his skin felt as if it was on fire. Part of that was the adrenaline rush, his heart beating as fast as a jackhammer.

“Oh God!” Golding exclaimed. “I woke you up!”

“I’m fine, Mr. Golding.” Decker noticed Sammy staring, his big brown eyes agape.

The boy said, “Uh, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“I’ll come with you.” Rina started to leave, but Golding grabbed her arm again. Decker moved in, but Rina held him off with the palm of her hand. Golding was too distraught to even notice Decker’s defensive stance.

“Please stay,” Golding sobbed. “You were so nice to write such a thank-you card.”

She looked at her husband, then said, “Of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you!”

Again Rina patted his hand. No one spoke for a few minutes, the only sounds being Golding’s choked tears. Wordlessly, Rina extricated herself from his grasp and fetched a box of Kleenex. She handed it to him. “How about a glass of water?”

“No, I’m all right.” He blew his nose into a tissue. “I’m…” Another blow. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rina said. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

When he didn’t respond, Decker said, “Please, Mr. Golding. Have a seat right here.”

Decker sat him down in his special place—an oversize leather chair-and-a-half stuffed with down, complete with ottoman, his reading sanctuary whenever he was home. The rest of the furniture was feminine and frilly, upholstered with lots of blue gingham checks and blue-and-white paisley prints. Lacy pillows and doilies abounded. A sweet little hand-loomed rug sat under an old-fashioned white rocker. Decker’s chair looked like the fat sheik in the middle of his harem. He perched himself next to Rina on the couch.

Golding said, “I’m sorry to have woken you up like this.”

“No, no,” Decker said. “It’s no bother, sir. Can we make you a cup of tea?”

“Don’t bother.”

“It’s no bother.” Rina was up. “Herbal maybe? I have cinnamon, orange, chamomile, lemon—”

“Chamomile.”

“Sugar, lemon?”

“Plain.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Golding whispered out a “thank you,” then turned his attention to Decker. “You must think I’m crazy.”

And how could the man be anything less than crazy after what had happened? Golding had on a light gray, coffee-stained sweatshirt and jeans.

Decker said, “Is there something specific on your mind, Mr. Golding, or did you just need to talk…or ask some questions maybe?”