“Someone has to be home for Hannah. Eema’s at some old-age home, talking to a camp survivor. She actually offered to come home early so I could get out—I think she’s worried about me becoming too serious, if you can believe that. I told her I was okay. This visit seemed important to her for some reason. Besides, I don’t mind a little quiet time. Things have been hectic enough around here.”

Decker kissed the top of his head—his yarmulke. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“S’right.” He stood up. “You’re exhausted. There’re leftovers. Can I fix you up a plate while you shower?”

“Sure.”

Without another word, Jacob got up and went to the kitchen. Decker peeked into his daughter’s room, seeing not much more than orange ringlets on a pillow. He tiptoed over. She was breathing deeply, slowly, the coverlet moving up and down in languid, rolling waves. She smelled of shampoo and fabric softener. He smiled, always surprised that such a miracle could emanate from his loins. He left the room with an ache in his heart, then undressed, plunging into the hot needles of a brief shower. After changing into clean clothes, he went into the kitchen and was greeted by white meat turkey, mashed potatoes, and limp broccoli, but a fresh salad. His stepson was dressed in a black T-shirt and black pants. Once upon a time, Jacob was all skin and bones. He still had that long, lank look, but weight lifting had given him a chest and arms, and a good set of stomach muscles. He was a kid on the brink. A year or two more of maturity would put him right up there with James Dean in the heartthrob department—an angry young man with fierce blue eyes and a perpetual sneer. What made him really dangerous was his brainpower.

“Sometimes you’re a real wonder.” Decker ate with gusto.

“I can warm up grub with the best of them. Do you want coffee?”

“I’ll make it.”

“No, I can do it, Dad. It’s not a problem.” As Jacob made coffee, he noticed his stepfather had finished his meal. “There’s more if you want.”

“No, I’m stuffed.” He sat back. “I ate too fast. That’s not good.” He sighed. “Someday I’ll retire.”

“Sure you will.” Jacob watched the coffee drip. “Did you go to Ernesto’s funeral?”

Decker nodded.

“Pretty emotional, huh?”

“Very.” He looked up, started to talk, then thought better of it.

“What?” Jacob asked.

“Never mind.”

“No, what?”

Decker rubbed his forehead. “You didn’t know any of Ruby Ranger’s friends, did you?”

Out came the sneer. “No. But I knew plenty of her enemies. Everyone hated her.”

“You don’t know anyone she’d run to if she were in trouble?”

Jacob sat down. “What’s going on? Is she in trouble?”

“I think so.”