Faye Kellerman - Sanctuary

She lifted her eyes to the surrounding areas. The mist had evaporated but the sky was still gray. Now and then the sun appeared in a cameo role, but it added little light and warmth. Three police dogs were sniffing out the mountainside. Ginger hadn’t liked the interlopers, had barked furiously and distracted the professionally trained canines from doing their jobs. Or so had complained their handlers. Decker had been forced to take her home, but not before recommending Ginger be cited for fine police work.

It was after eleven in the morning, Davidson having taken three and a half hours to get all the papers in order. Marge still felt Tug was a schmuck, but at least he was responsive, immediately assigning Decker and her to the case and allotting them the needed hours. Davidson watched the lab men dig.

“Don’t envy their job.”

“Don’t I know it,” Marge said. “Mud’s not only messy but as cold as ice. Freezes your fingers.”

“I thought women liked mud facials.”

“You’re a funny one, Loo.”

Davidson actually twitched the corners of his mouth. Marge felt that was as close to a smile as he was ever going to give.

Davidson said, “Good work, Dunn. You got your case, you got your time. Probably worth a few frozen nails for that.”

Marge said, “What’s a few frostbitten fingers between friends.”

Davidson looked her over. “You think I’m a son of a bitch, Dunn? I can live with that. Besides, look how it got you going. Think you would have been motivated like this if I woulda patted your hand and said, ‘Take your time’?”

She didn’t answer.

Davidson scratched his nose again. “I got my stripes. Keep going like this, maybe it’ll be your turn.”

Marge nodded, turned away, then broke into a soft smile. Damn it, they did do a good job! She took in a deep breath and put her hands in her pocket. Orit Bar Lulu was coming their way, her footing less than steady. She stopped and checked her watch.

“It’s been over an hour,” she snapped to Davidson.

“We’re moving as fast as we can, Mrs. Bar Lulu. You can’t rush these things.”

“You’re driving me crazy.” She pointed to the grave. “How long does it take to dig someone up? Give me a shovel. I’ll do it in ten minutes.”

“It’s not the unearthing, Mrs. Bar Lulu,” Marge said. “We don’t want to harm the body. I don’t think you want that, either.”

“We’re moving as fast as we can, ma’am.” Davidson looked around. “Detective Dunn, you keep an eye on the lab men. I’ve got a few calls to make.”

Marge nodded and he left. Bastard probably wanted to get warm because it was cold outside. The yellow-slickered lab man raised his head. “We got most of the mud off. Do you want to take a look, Mrs. Bar Lulu?”

Orit glanced at Marge. As she stepped forward, she lost her balance. Marge caught her. She called out to the mountainside. “Sergeant Decker, we’re ready for an ID.”

Decker pivoted around and jogged over to Marge. He saw how she was supporting Orit. He flanked the Israeli woman on the other side and offered her an arm. Orit was white as she grabbed his wrist.

“First, I nag you to hurry up…then I don’t know if I can even do it.” Tears formed in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

“You want a few minutes to catch your breath?” Decker asked.

“No, I’m ready,” Orit said. “Let’s get it over with.”

Slowly, they approached the body, Orit’s eyes bobbing in their sockets.

“I’ve got you,” Marge said. “Just take your time.”

Orit looked at them for moral support, her head lolling from one side to the other. Decker patted her shoulder. “Take your time. If you feel sick, let us know.”

Orit nodded, then forced herself to study the face. A moment later, she jerked her head up, took a step backward, then gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Decker grabbed her arm.

“Are you okay?”

Orit’s face was ashen, her voice a whisper. “It’s…Dalia.” She teetered on her feet. “I don’t feel too good.” She burst into tears. “I want to go home.”

Marge said, “I’ll take you to one of the squad cars.”

“I can’t go home?”

“Of course you can,” Marge said, gently. “But let us drive you. Can I call your husband for you?”

Orit nodded, allowing herself to be led by Marge to a heated black-and-white.

Decker stared at the grave, at a petite form outlined in mud. The face had been wiped but was still streaked with gook. Yet Decker could tell it had been a gentle face. Anger drove a blush to his cheeks. He choked it back and spoke to the lab men. “Anything else buried under her?”

“We can’t tell until we lift the body,” the black-coated man responded. “We’re waiting for the police photographer.”

“He should be here in a minute.”

Davidson was coming toward him, his stride quick and precise. “Your wife’s on the line,” he said. “Your kids are fine, but she needs to talk to you. She says it’s an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?”

Davidson shrugged ignorance.

Decker felt his heart race as he ran over to the Plymouth. Was it his mother? His father? His brother? Randy was in vice-narcotics, mainly. He’d been shot three times by three separate dealers. Decker grabbed the mike from his radio. “What is it?”

“Peter, everyone’s healthy.”

Rina’s voice was tense, but the words were all he needed. He heard himself taking a deep breath.

“It’s not us, Peter, it’s Honey Klein,” Rina said. “It’s Honey’s husband. I just got a call from someone in the Manhattan Police Department,” Rina said. “Gershon was found dead in his office at the diamond center. He’d been shot, stuffed into a closet-”

“Good God!”

“Peter, I don’t know what to do!” She began to cry. “I’m panicked!”

“Where are Honey and the kids now?”

“They left the house about two and a half hours ago to go sightseeing.”

“Where were they headed?”

“I don’t know! She didn’t tell me. I don’t know what I’m going to tell her-”

“I’ll handle it,” Decker said. “You don’t have any idea where they are?”

Rina paused. “She said something about going to the old Grauman’s Chinese Theater when I first spoke to her. But she said nothing to me about it this morning. Just that she was going sightseeing.”

Decker thought back to Gershon’s strange phone calls, Honey’s talk about gangsters. Not knowing any details, it was safer to be cautious. “Rina, I’m going to send a squad car over to the house. I’ll have the police wait outside until I can get over there. Don’t answer the door and don’t let anyone-and I mean anyone-in until I figure out what’s going on. It may take a little time to come. We just dug up Dalia Yalom-”

“Peter, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, okay?”

“Thanks.” Rina’s voice was small. “I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“I love you, Peter.”

“Love you too.” Decker paused. “Rina, do you know where Honey got her rental car?”

“I think from the place on Foothill. Tour-Time Rentals. Does that sound right?”

“It sounds right. Just stay put. Keep the doors locked and don’t open the doors for anyone. I have to make a few phone calls. I’ll call you back in about fifteen minutes.”

He hung up the mike and called Foothill substation. Tim Calais’s unit was the closest to the house. He was happy to help out a former Foothill member. Besides, Decker was sure Mike had heard about Rina’s beauty. After thanking Calais, Decker cut the line, then put in a call to the dispatch operator, asking to be connected with Tour-Time Rentals. As he waited, Decker suddenly realized he was standing outside of the car. He sat down in the driver’s seat and closed the door. Davidson came over to the unmarked, bent over, and peered through the open window. “Everything okay?”