Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 13 by The Forgotten

Author:The Forgotten [Forgotten, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Los Angeles (Calif.), Police Procedural, Police, Mystery & Detective, Police - California - Los Angeles, Political, Lazarus; Rina (Fictitious Character), Fiction, Mystery Fiction, General, Decker; Peter (Fictitious Character), Detective and Mystery Stories, Police Spouses, Suspense, Contemporary Women, Antisemitism, Hate Crimes
ISBN: 9780753166420
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2001-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

22

A mother’s sleep was eternally light, a quick dash into never-never land, where the conscious lay dormant, rousing to action at the wail of a hungry infant or the moans of a sick toddler. So ingrained was the reflex that even after the children had grown to independence, Rina’s slumber remained permanently altered; the reason she awoke as soon as the bedroom door opened. It was not much more than a mere crack, but she sensed it even if she didn’t hear it. It wasn’t light yet, although the sky had turned from black to gray in anticipation of dawn. According to the nightstand clock, it was five twenty-eight. Sammy stood at the door. She put her finger to her lips and waved him away, not wanting to wake up Peter. She didn’t know what time Peter had come home, but she had gone to bed at midnight.

Quickly, she slipped on her robe and quietly closed the door behind her. She squinted as harsh lamplight seized her eyes, blinking several times as she tried to clear her thoughts. Sammy was dressed in street clothes, the leather straps from his small black prayer box—the tefillin shel yad—coiled around his right arm. On the widow’s peak of his sand-colored hair sat the other prayer box—the tefillin shel rosh. Tall and handsome, her elder son cut an imposing figure.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he replied. “I’m just jet-lagged. I’ve been up learning since four in the morning. Then I saw a hint of daylight and decided to daven. I’m not the problem. There’s some guy at the front door who wants to see Dad—”

“What? Now?”

“Yeah, he says it’s important. He seems very agitated. I didn’t know if I should wake Peter or what.”

“Did he give you a name?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get it totally. Something Gold—”

“Oh my goodness!” Rina slapped her hand to her breast. “Carter Golding?”

“Yeah, yeah. Who is he?”

“His son was murdered—”

“Oh no! He’s the one?”

Rina nodded. “I’d better go see what he wants—”

Sammy stopped her. “Don’t you think you should wake up Dad?”

“First let me see what he wants.” She hesitated before she opened the door, then made the commitment. The man facing her was small and thin, his features blurred by lack of light and by facial hair. He was in constant motion, rocking on his feet, kneading his hands together, his eyes jumping about.

“I’m so sorry,” he coughed out. “I thought that maybe…that your husband…that maybe he wasn’t sleeping…I’ll come back—”

“No, no, please come in, Mr. Golding,” Rina pleaded. “Please.”

He crossed the threshold of the door, stepping in just far enough to let Rina close the door. Wrinkled and disheveled, it was clear that he’d been wearing his clothes for a very long time. His movements were jerky, spasmodic—like a pinball confined to a very small machine. “I shouldn’t have come here.” Breathless. “Waking you like some madman. I’m not a madman!”

“Of course you’re not—”

“Your husband is still asleep? Don’t wake him. I’ll come back—” He stared at Sammy, then pointed at him with a shaking finger.

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