Faye Kellerman - Sanctuary

“How?”

“By selling him the bulk of his mining investments-things like land deeds and Southwest Mine stock.”

“Then Arik got popped,” Marge said. “Let’s just speculate and say that Milligan popped Arik to get to his land deeds and mining stocks.”

“Right.”

“At this point, we both know it’s pure conjecture.”

“Agreed, but let’s go with it anyway,” Decker said. “Because with Milligan being here, hot on Gold’s tail, it looks like she’s involved in some fashion.”

“True.”

Decker said, “Say Gold had known that Milligan had designs on Arik’s former mines. What Milligan hadn’t known was that the assets no longer belonged to Arik. They belonged to Gold.”

“So when Arik was popped, Gold knew his ownership of the assets put him in jeopardy. He asked some questions, then split. Eventually Milligan found out that Gold owned the stocks and followed him over to Israel.” Marge paused. “Took her long enough to figure it out.”

“I don’t believe she had even thought about Gold being in the picture until we brought it up. Then she must have done some checking. Bingo. She found out that Yalom was no longer the primary shareholder. Gold held the cards now.”

“So Milligan came to Israel specifically to get Gold?”

“Why else would she be asking about him and not the boys?”

“So why did the boys run scared?”

“Maybe they’re next in line to inherit the stocks.” Decker blew out air. “I know we’ve got lots of holes in our theory. But why else would Milligan be asking about Gold?”

“I still say they could be in on the murder together and he split on her with his assets. She’s hunting him down just like she did Yalom. Where is Milligan now?”

A very good question. Anxiety suddenly strangled Decker’s chest. The better question was, where the fuck was Rina?

“Pete?” Marge said. “Are you still there?”

“I don’t know who Milligan’s out to get,” Decker said flatly. “We’ve just been throwing out stuff, Marge. Maybe I’m completely off base.”

“Pete, you sound upset. What is it?”

He was silent. He just couldn’t confess his stupidity to his partner. He just couldn’t tell her that he let Rina tail someone potentially involved in a double murder. “I’m fine. Look, Marge, I’ve got some work to do here. And you need your rest-”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Pete?”

Decker whispered, “I’ve got to go now. Call you later.”

He hung up the phone, grabbed his coat, and headed for nowhere.

Someone tapped on the driver’s window. Rina jerked her head and looked up. A soldier, his young face earnest and full of concern. He was blond with bright blue eyes and strong cheekbones-a heartbreaker. She dried her eyes and gave him a weak smile.

“You…hokay, g’veret?”

Rina unlocked the door and got out of the car, a dry heat grabbed her body. The soldier was sweating, weighted down by his weapon. She spoke in Hebrew. “I’m…overwhelmed by the spirituality, by the ruach of Hasham.”

Upon hearing Rina speak his language fluently, the soldier launched into a tirade. What was she doing out here alone? Was she crazy? Hadn’t she read a newspaper for the last year? Didn’t she know she was inviting herself to her own funeral? Of course, she was American and that explained everything. What the hell was wrong with these crazy American fanatics? Didn’t they know what they were doing to Israel, how they put every soldier-every Jewish soldier-in danger with their rhetoric and their stubbornness? Who needed them anyway?

Then the soldier noticed her shot-out window.

Rina listened patiently as the man went ballistic.

Did she expect sympathy for her ordeal? Well, she wasn’t going to get anything from him. Nosirree. Not when she not only endangered herself but every single man and woman in the Israeli army. And now that she had arrived here in Hebron, how the hell did she plan to get back? Of course, God would take care. The stock answer to everything. God would take care. Except God wasn’t out here, shvitzing like a behaima-sweating like a beast-watching his rear end every second of his duty, fending off hate-driven terrorists, doing frightening, dangerous work just to guard a bunch of crazies who believed that mass suicide was a virtue.

He stopped abruptly, blew out air, then gingerly traced the bullet hole with his finger. “It is so incredibly stupid, you coming out here. No one comes out here, let alone a woman. Who are you? A terrorist in disguise?”

Rina told him she was not a terrorist.

The man didn’t seem comforted, asking now what was he going to do with her.

Rina spoke softly and meaningfully. “I’ll wait until one of the jeeps goes back to Jerusalem. I’m very sorry to cause you grief. I showed very bad judgment. I do know what’s going on, but I guess old habits are hard to break. I lived here twelve years ago. I remember a much different Israel.”

“A much, much different Israel.” The soldier cocked his hip and made eye contact. She smiled at him. It seemed to soften his anger. He said, “You speak Hebrew very well. How long did you live here?”

“About three years. Back then you could travel the main roads without too much concern. Of course, if you went into the remote areas and passed through the small villages, you always carried a gun. I wish I had a gun now.”

The soldier eyed her suspiciously. “You should have thought of that before you came out here like an American cowboy.”

“Yes, I should have.” Rina looked at the sky. “Is the Ma’arah open?”

The soldier shifted the Uzi in his arms. “For the moment, until another incident closes it up.”

“Then I can go in,” Rina said. “At least do what I came here for.” Her eyes suddenly moistened. “Who knows? I may never see it again.”

Wearily, the soldier looked over his shoulder at the mausoleum holy to two separate nations. He shook his head as if religion was the root of all evil. “I need to check your purse before you enter.”

Rina handed him her purse. He dug through it, examining her belongings, checking her passport, then handed it back to her. “Hokay,” he said in English. “Hokay, you go. I go with you.”

“Into the Ma’arah?” Rina stated in Hebrew. “But it’s guarded. I’ll be fine.”

“I still go.”

“You don’t trust me,” Rina stated. “I understand. Then come with me.”

The soldier adjusted the strap of his Uzi. In Hebrew, he told her ladies first.

The Jewish name for Hebron was Kiryat Arbah-kiryat meaning “city” and arbah meaning “four”-because the town held the Ma’arat HaMachpelah-the Cave of the Pairs. Specifically, there were four pairs of ancestors interred beneath the memorial in a cave below: Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah, and Adam and Eve. The holy spot was also the resting place of the decapitated head of Jacob’s brother, Esau, sliced off by Chushin, son of Dan. He had garroted his great-uncle after the burial negotiations between Esau and his nephews had broken down. The body had remained outside the walls, but the head had rolled in. After much discussion, the nephews allowed the head to be buried in the cave reserved for their ancestors.

Rina thought about that as she entered the shrine. The mausoleum had undergone many transformations, from a Jewish shrine, to a Christian church, then finally into a large Muslim mosque around the thirteenth century. Rina couldn’t imagine why Muslims would want to worship in a shrine that held Jewish patriarchs and matriarchs. She realized that Abraham was the father of their religion as well as hers. But the others? They had nothing to do with the formation of Islam. But every day, six times a day, the Muslims would do just that. They prayed to Allah with Isaac and Rebecca looking on. Their cenotaphs were in the mosque proper.