Torah Academy of West Hills had been molded from an old veterinary clinic. It must have been a thriving practice, and for big animals, because the examination rooms were extra large though still too small for classrooms. So the majority of actual learning took place in prefab trailers that filled the parking lot, save for a few science classes that were held in the animal morgue. The other clinic rooms had been turned into offices for the administration. Decker knew that the school, like everything in this community, was run on hope, volunteers, and the occasional out-of-the-blue donation.

Rabbi Jeremy Culter was in charge of secular studies. He was in his mid-thirties, and considered very modern for an Orthodox rabbi. In addition to being ordained as a rabbi, he had a Ph.D. in education and, most telling, he didn’t have a beard. He was fair complexioned and on the short side—trim with very long and developed arms. His office held a minimal look—a desk, a couple of chairs, and a bookshelf filled with sepharim—Jewish books—as well as books on psychology, sociology, and philosophy. The walls were cedar-paneled and still retained a faint antiseptic odor, along with an occasional waft of urine.

Usually, when Decker visited the school, he wore a yarmulke—a skullcap. But today he was there not as a father but in an official capacity. He didn’t wear a yarmulke when he worked because he often dealt with people who hated him in particular and cops in general, and he didn’t want to give any psycho-felon anti-Semite any more fodder to use against Jews. Still, sitting in front of Culter, he felt exposed without a head covering. If Culter noticed, he didn’t let on.

He said, “I can’t believe you actually think that one of our own boys—your son’s classmates—desecrated a shul and left concentration-camp photos around? Children with grandparents who are survivors!”

Decker looked at him. “How’d you find out about the specifics of the crime?”

“This is a small community. Do I really have to explain this to you?”

“Did my wife call you?”

The rabbi shook his head.

“Must have been one of the members of the bucket brigade.” Decker smiled at him. “I’ve just assigned you the role of my clergyman. Now I have confidentiality. Okay with you?”

Rabbi Culter said, “Go on.”

“This is the deal. We’re calling it a random drug check for the boys. I’m going to use that ruse with all the schools I’m going to. What I’m looking for is evidence of who might have done this. If you and your school cooperate with me, Rabbi, I’ll have muscle when dealing with the other privates.”

Culter nodded. “The law is an objective animal and so are the police.”

“Exactly,” Decker said. “If I searched my own son’s school, then what excuses can the other principals give me?”