Decker kept his face emotionless. “I’m telling you this, not to be lurid, but to help me understand Ernesto. The more I know about him, the more it’ll help me with the investigation. Ernesto was interested…no, that’s the wrong word. He was plagued by awful images of Nazi brutality. Plagued by them, but fascinated by them. The images bothered him very much, but he couldn’t get rid of them. Furthermore, he felt that…that your father’s father—Isaac Golding—hadn’t been up front about his origins.”

Silence.

And then more silence.

“Did he ever express any concerns like these to you?”

Karl sighed. “May I ask what the point of…the point of this is…sir?”

He was trying to be polite, and that counted for a lot, especially under these circumstances. “I’m wondering if Ernesto had had a secret life and had slipped into the wrong crowd. I’m wondering also if he had tried to get out of it, by confessing it to Dr. Baldwin. Perhaps someone wanted the information transfer permanently silenced.”

“Do you think that’s what happened?”

“I don’t know, Karl. That’s why I’m asking you such sensitive questions.”

“Did you talk to my parents about this?”

“Not yet.”

“Can I ask that you don’t?” The big kid swallowed. “I don’t think my mom…” Tears. “She’s in enough pain.”

“Tell me what you know. And then we’ll see if we can work out a plan.”

“First, you tell me what you know…sir.”

“Okay, I will. According to Ernesto, your grandfather’s name was actually Yitzchak Golding.” Decker pronounced the name with the correct gutteralization, something he couldn’t have done five years ago. “Ernesto had done some research and had found out that a Yitzchak Golding had died in a Polish concentration camp. Now it’s entirely possible that there’s more than one Yitzchak Golding. But Ernesto was under the impression that your grandfather had stolen the dead Yitzchak Golding’s identity. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?”

“Something.”

“So this sounds familiar?” Decker asked him. “That your grandfather was a Nazi in hiding?”

“A little.”

“Like how?”

“Just that Ernesto had some…questions. He went to Dad about them. Dad freaked and that was the end of it. Ernie dropped it.”

Decker took in the kid’s eyes. “So if I mentioned this to your dad, it would strike a nerve?”

“I don’t think you should do that right now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. What about your mother?”

“He never said anything to her as far as I know.”

“Okay. So we’ll keep her out of this.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “How about you, Karl? Did he stop talking about it to you?”

The boy’s eyes overflowed. He threw his hands over his face and cried out, “It’s all my fault!”

“No, it isn’t—”