Faye Kellerman - Sanctuary

“If that’s what you want, fine.”

“That’s what I want.” Honey looked down at her lap and straightened her skirt. “It’s funny. Originally, I moved with Gershon to the village as a refuge against the outside world. But there’s no escaping evil. It comes at you in many forms. It took me time to realize my strength. And now, like Jacob, I’m ready to wrestle with the Ish. You’re right. I have to face whatever is in store for me head-on.” She stood. “Where do I go from here?”

“I’ll get you an official escort back to the States, Honey. Manhattan police will detain you for questioning. Once in America, you hire yourself a good lawyer.”

“I didn’t kill Gershon.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“Thank you, Akiva. Thank you for believing me.”

Kreisman bit into an overstuffed pita. From the smell, Decker figured it was bologna with mustard. He sipped his coffee and waited for the interview to commence. The sgan nitzav was chewing slowly. Decker wondered if it was on purpose. A waiting game.

But he didn’t mind. In fact, the silence was a welcome respite, a chance for him to digest his thoughts. Honey was now in official hands. He couldn’t get her face off his mind, the plaintive way she had looked at him as she was led away by a gentlelooking Israeli policewoman. Honey’s expression had been agony and anguish. And though anguish wasn’t a viable excuse for murder, he sincerely hoped that things might work out for her. Then Rina had called him, describing her conversation with Gil Yalom. He recalled the crack in her voice as she recounted how the teenager had cried in her arms.

Too much pain. So let Kreisman take his time with his damn sandwich. The sgan nitzav gave a final swallow and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I got word to be nice to you. That isn’t easy for me. Especially because I don’t fully trust you.”

Decker waited.

“Actually someone called from the prime minister’s office. Some bigwig wants to thank you publicly.”

“You can take my place.”

“Fuck you, Decker. I don’t need to ride the coattails of your glory.”

“Kreisman, I’m not interested in glory. All I want is to collect my suspects, go back home, and sleep for a day.”

“Well, if you’re looking for Milligan or Ibrahim Khouri or Gamal Shabazz, you can stop. They’re gone. However, our detectives did pick up some interesting information from some of the residents of the town.”

“People actually talked to you?”

“We have ways and I don’t mean physical ways.” Kreisman rubbed his thumb against his fingertips. “Works like a charm.”

“Who’s Donald?”

“Donald Haas. He isn’t a Black Muslim, but he is a South African black and a very radical one at that. He’s far left of the ANC and has been responsible for the deaths of at least a dozen people. Some were white, but some were moderate blacks who publicly opposed Haas’s known philosophy of white extermination. The guy did ten years in jail, got sprung shortly after they liberated Nelson Mandela.”

“And what’s the connection between him and Kate Milligan?”

“Pussy connection. They were lovers.”

“Longtime lovers?”

“Who knows? Guess Haas had no problem justifying his inconsistency. A fuck is a fuck. What I don’t get is why a woman like Milligan would go for him? What could she see in him?”

Decker thought about what Rina had told him. How Milligan had slept with Yalom-a Jew whom she probably despised-to get what she wanted. “Maybe she saw a pit bull who could implement her plans.”

“That could be.”

Decker studied his thoughts, recalling his conversation with Marge. Perhaps they had been right all along. Yalom had originally gotten Milligan’s attention by blackmail. Perhaps she and Haas had been longtime forbidden lovers. Had her plan worked, had she been able to raid Palestinian start-up capital, she would have set them both up for life. He said, “Then again, Kreisman, you can’t explain love.”

“Love.” Kreisman made a face. “Milligan’s a cold bitch. She doesn’t have a heart, Decker. She’s just got a pump.”

“Where is Donald Haas? Is he gone as well?”

Kreisman nodded. “They all must have slipped over the Jordanian border last night. From Jordan, they could move freely about the Arab countries without worrying about us tailing them. But that doesn’t mean we’re giving up. We have ways of finding people even in hostile countries.”

“Is the PLO helping at all? Because Milligan’s stunt must be an embarrassment to them now.”

“Not helping, not hindering, so far as we can tell. Yeah, Milligan’s an embarrassment to Arafat. Every time someone in any of the Arab organizations fucks up, it lessens his chance of becoming king of Palestine.”

Kreisman waved his hand in the air.

“Yeah, we’re still hunting, but your part in all of this is over. You got the Yalom boys. Take them home and let us do our job.”

“Sounds good. I’ll need my papers back.”

Kreisman stood. “I’ll get them for you. Maybe we’ll meet again down the line.”

“Maybe,” Decker said. “But I hope not.”

Kreisman smiled. “You’re blunt.”

“I speak my mind.”

“I can see that. You’d make a good Israeli.”

Marge said to Decker, “You look great! Are you sure you didn’t go there on vacation?”

Decker put his feet up on his desk. Man, he’d missed her. True, he had had Rina, and she’d been great. But he had worked with her only out of necessity. He valued their marriage vows as bonds of intimacy. Rina was his life partner, not his business associate.

But now he was back in the groove and, happily, so was Rina. She was thrilled to get home to the baby and the boys. Decker had wondered when she had hugged the kids if her mind hadn’t been on Honey Klein’s loneliness.

“You know, Dunn,” Decker went on, “I bet I’m the only religious Jew who went to Israel and missed the Wailing Wall. That’s how dedicated to work I was. Only sightseeing I did was accompanying Rina to her late husband’s grave. You can imagine how much fun that was for me.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I did it for Jake and Sam. I sure as hell wouldn’t want my kids to forget about me. I can’t let my boys forget about their father.”

“You’re a good guy, Pete.”

“Tell that to Davidson. You believe that son of a bitch giving me a hard time about my expense account? Asking me about all those phone calls to New York? I brought in Honey Klein. What’s the asshole going on about?”

“He’s an asshole, Pete. But you did make a few personal calls.”

“I talked to my half brother, Marge, but that was strictly business. I had to explain to him why Rina wasn’t coming out.”

Marge smiled. “Not that I care but you talked to him for two hours.”

“I’m meticulous.” Decker swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “If he doesn’t like it, fuck him!”

Marge said, “I got a call from the DA’s office. The office is prepared to go ahead and indict Milligan on two counts of first degree murder based on the evidence-the statement of the Yalom boys, the papers in Yalom’s box, and lastly, evidence pulled by the Israeli police. Do you know what that’s referring to?”

“Yes, I do. They got some statements from some Hebron residents. They also did some hunting and searching. They found receipts made out to Milligan for tools, parts, and chemicals that could have been used in the making of plastiques.”

“She kept receipts?”

“She was a businesswoman. They were deductible.”

Marge broke into laughter.

“Along the way, they found one real damning piece of paper. A written statement attributed to a guy named Mohammed Husseini, a former bigwig in the PLO. The note expressed sorrow over the terrible tragedy in the Bursa and condemned all acts of violence. It went on to suggest that the Arabs and Jews work together to build a bigger and more comprehensive diamond exchange in the new state of Palestine. One that would be internationally recognized as the top in the field of diamonds.”