“I love you, Rachel.” He remembered the other Rachel from the Bible his grandmother had told him about, and as he caressed Rachel’s bare skin, slipped his hand lower on her belly, and slid his finger into her, he whispered the story to her. His fingers slid and circled as he talked, her body moved with his hand.

“Rachel was Laban’s daughter,” he whispered, “and Jacob called Israel saw her at a well and fell in love with her. Like I did with you. He asked to marry her and her father said he could, but he had to work for him for seven years first. Jacob did it, I would too. But Laban tricked poor Jacob and sent his older daughter to him on the wedding night. He didn’t know till morning and then it was too late; poor Jacob. But he didn’t give up, Rachel; I won’t either. He worked another seven years, and then at last, the ol’ man kept his bargain, and Israel got his Rachel. . . .”

¶¶¶ Slowly, slowly.

**** Old wives’ tale.

5

Chapter 5

Bianco saw the word clay, stopped skimming, and read the headline.

Still No Suspects in Laurel Beating Deaths.

It was almost familiar and he thought he’d been rehearsing reading this for a long time.

The bodies of Willa Garner, 40, and her sons, Thomas Jr., 17, and Eric, 14, were found in their home at 18 Sutter Lane early Sunday morning. A neighbor noticed the broken front door and called the Laurel police. The scene that confronted the officers . . .

Bianco skipped, then read,

. . . motiveless. Mrs. Garner’s jewelry, the family sterling, were intact. But the Garners were black and Chief Kramer suggested that the murders might be connected with the rash of cross-­burnings and swastika-­painting that plagued eastern Long Island last summer.

Two weeks ago, a fight broke out in the Claremont High School cafeteria between black and white students. When it was over, one white boy was dead and seven black and white youths were injured. The older Garner boy was involved and Chief Kramer thought the incident might have triggered the killings and he plans to question local Klan members. He told the Journal that Mr. and Mrs. Myron Brodsky, the parents of the dead boy, had been traced to Palm Springs, where they have been staying with friends since Wednesday. “We had to get away,” Mr. Brodsky told the Journal. “Of course, we’re horrified by what’s happened to the Garners.” Dr. Thomas Garner was also out of town when the murders . . .

Bianco skipped again.

. . . was the mysterious presence of common clay . . .

Lo, I have wrought in common clay, Kipling wrote someplace, Bianco couldn’t remember where. He kept reading.

It was on the bodies, the floor, the walls. No one knows why it was there or where it came from. Chief Kramer refused to speculate.