Faye Kellerman - The Burnt House

“Past forty.”

“And he’s in his fifties?”

“Yes.”

“Good age for both of them,” Rina said. “I hope Will likes the flute.”

Decker smiled. Marge played the instrument, but only when she was alone. For her, it was personal expression, like singing in the shower. “They really do seem to have a lot in common.”

“That’s nice.” Rina moved over to be closer and Decker put his arm around her shoulders. “I wish them happiness and lots of luck.” She faced her husband. “You look exhausted.”

“I am.”

“Fruitful trip?”

“In some ways. Roseanne’s ex-lover passed a polygraph and a flight attendant was pretty sure that Roseanne took the five o’clock flight from San Jose back to Burbank the following morning. It still seems that she disappeared once she reached Burbank.”

“You’re still thinking about the husband?”

“Yes, that’s the logical choice. I’m sure he has some secrets.” Decker shrugged. “All the people who died in the accident, I bet they died with a lot of secrets as well.”

“Secrets from man, but not from G-d.”

“That’s a humbling thought.” Decker frowned. “I don’t know if I really believe in that personal of a God. I, for one, feel that God has better things to do than to get involved in the trivialities of our petty lives.”

“Sometimes I think that’s true, too. I mean, why would Hashem care if I wore a blue or pink dress? Although that isn’t the Jewish way. We really do have the precept of Hashgacha Pratite-that G-d watches over our every moment and our every movement.”

“To each his own.”

“Then there are other times where I’m positive that Hashem is involved with our petty lives. So many important things happen serendipitously that I just can’t chalk them all up to coincidence.”

“I suppose if you’re an atheist, that’s exactly what you do…chalk it up to coincidence.”

“I’d rather believe in divine intervention. It’s much more romantic and much more poetic.”

“That’s because you have romance and poetry in your soul. Me? I believe in God but for an entirely different reason. I need God. Who else is there to curse when things go poorly?”

I T WAS ONE of those rare moments when he took time out to smell the roses. Looking down at his sleeping daughter, her carrot-colored hair flowing over her face and the pillow, he realized that although life was passing too rapidly, he hadn’t gone through his days on earth without producing miracles. Two of them to be exact, but this time around he had been more fortunate. Cindy, although full-time in his heart, had been only part-time in his life. With Hannah, he was fully experiencing her teenage years with all their trials and tribulations. Sometimes it felt as if the drama would never end, but the flip side told him that he was lucky to be there when she needed him.

He tapped his daughter’s shoulder. “Wake up, Rosie O’Dee. It’s a beautiful morning and I love you.”

Hannah inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. “Love you, too.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be waiting in the kitchen for you.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Not today. I’m taking you to school.”

She rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. “Can’t Eema do it?”

“You don’t want my scintillating company?”

“I love your company, Abba, I just want to sleep.”

“I realize that you have an unlimited capacity for slumber. Unfortunately, it’s time to face the music.”

“Can you feed my fish and take my backpack?”

Decker glanced at his daughter’s aquarium. Going to the tropical fish store used to be a weekly outing. Lately Hannah had better things to do on weekends, and the tank was down to two angelfish, and two enormous bottom-feeders-an upside-down catfish and a clown loach. The good news was that the remaining stalwarts were healthy. He dropped flakes into the water and picked up Hannah’s book bag, which weighed no less that fifteen tons. “Do you have any preference for breakfast?”

“No.”

“How about cereal and juice?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat something.”

“Just juice. I’ll have a glass of milk at school.”

“I see we’re on the liquid diet today.”

“With all this conversation we’re having, I could have had my extra five minutes of sleep.”

“And missed out on talking to me?”

“Arg!” She sat up and pushed her hair from her eyes. “I have to get dressed now.”

He saluted and left. In the kitchen, he put on a pot of coffee and poured his daughter a big glass of orange juice, knowing that she’d drink about a third of it. Hannah was tall for her age, no surprise there, and being a typical teenage girl, she hated her body, which consisted of gangly limbs emanating from a thick middle. Actually, her middle wasn’t thick, it was just that the rest of her body hadn’t caught up to it. She was in the throes of puberty, which included the adjectives moody, secretive, and sarcastic. Then there were those other times when she was vulnerable and unbelievably loving.

His cell rang. The familiar voice on the other end said, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

It was Koby. “Not at all,” Decker answered. “I’m assigned chauffeur duty this morning. What’s up, big guy?”

“After considerable effort, I not only managed to secure a machine but a technician as well. It has to be promptly at five this afternoon or else we lose our technician to happy hour.”

“Wait a minute, I’m confused.” Decker poured himself a cup of coffee and took a swallow. “What are you talking about?”

“The computerized tomography machine and technician for your skull.”

Decker’s brain was awhirl in confusion. “Are you telling me that you’ve got a machine and a technician to do the CT scan on the Jane Doe skull that I’m trying so desperately to identify?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying.”

“First of all, thank you very much. I’ll call the morgue and get on it right away. Second of all, this is the first time I’m hearing about the plan. Who called you to set this up?”

“Our favorite detective, Scott Oliver. I do him a favor because deep down inside, I know he is still pining for my wife. Anyway, I am starting my shift in ten minutes. Cindy tells me that you can come on Sunday to help with the house.”

“Yes, that’s true. What time?”

“Cindy is making brunch, so maybe eleven? Rina is doing a landscape design for us. Hannah, of course, is invited as well, but I suspect she’ll have better things to do.”

“Eleven sounds great, Yaakov, and thanks again. I’m sure you had to jump through hoops to get permission for us.”

“That is true, but at least the hoops were not on fire.”

BY THE TIME that Decker had checked off every name on the Seacrest tenants’ list, it was a little past two in the afternoon. Not that he had succeeded in locating everyone. Still unaccounted for were seven women between the ages of twenty-four and fifty who had lived in the apartment building sometime between 1974 and 1983. Adding his seven to the other detectives’ lists of missing females, the total number was a daunting twenty-six. That meant further investigation with the avenues of exploration closing in on them.

It was imperative to add a face to Jane Doe.

Thank God for Koby. As the head nurse in neonatology, he had access to everything medical. But it was his persuasive powers that really sealed the deal. The man was the epitome of charm. And it didn’t hurt that the radiation tech was one of his good friends.

Coincidence or Hashgacha Pratit?

Right now Decker was too tired to ponder philosophy. He had a caffeine headache and an empty stomach. It was time to satisfy more primal needs. He picked up his jacket and met up with Marge and Oliver in the police parking lot.