Free The Forgotten by Faye Kellerman Page B

ride home. Decker tried conversation, but the little girl didn’t respond. Four blocks before home, she started talking, although it had nothing to do with the shul. It was a diatribe about how Moshe always took her pencils…just grabbed them from her hand without even asking!
    “That’s very rude,” Decker concurred.
    “He never even once asked,” she said in outrage. “And…he never said thank you.”
    “Very rude.” Decker parked the car in the driveway, helping his daughter out of the car. Then he took out Hannah’s backpack, which must have weighed twenty pounds. “How do you carry this?”
    “On my back.”
    “No. I mean it’s so heavy!”
    “Yes, it is,” Hannah agreed. “Sometimes I use the wheels. Can I have Mike and Ike for snack?”
    “No candy before dinner. How about milk and cookies?”
    “I don’t like cookies. How about milk and Mike and Ike?”
    Decker was too tired to argue. “Sure.”
    “Oh, Daddy!” Hannah crooned, hugging his waist with thin little arms. “You’re the best!”
    Translation: Between you and Eema, you’re the sucker. He parked her in front of the TV and used the quiet time to call his wife. “Just wanted to let you know that I got her.”
    “Thank you, Peter. Is everything okay?”
    “As long as you don’t mind her snacking on Mike and Ike.”
    “And if I did?”
    “I’d say, next time you pick her up.”
    Rina laughed over the phone. “I do appreciate you picking her up. I can’t stand the shul in this state.”
    “Are you almost done?”
    “Not even close. I don’t know who made the bigger mess—the vandals or the techs. Judith Marmelson and Reneé Boxstein are here. Reneé’s husband, Paul, is bringing over cans of paint. If you want to leave Hannah with her friend, Ariella Hackerman, you can join the party.”
    “This time I’m going to have to pass. I’m waiting for Yonkie to get home. I’d like him to baby-sit while I go back to work. I cut short what I was doing to pick Hannah up. But that’s okay. Actually, it was good to get out.”
    “How’s the investigation going?”
    “Promising. I can’t tell you any more.”
    “Promising is good. Promising is encouraging.”
    “It is indeed.”
    “A suspect—”
    “I can’t tell you any more.”
    “You’re no fun.”
    “Yeah, but you knew that when you married me.”
     
    Yonkie was home on time. Decker waited until he settled into his room before intruding on his life. A moment later he heard ear-blasting punk rock coming from Yonkie’s stereo. Decker had to bang on the wood to be heard over the din. The music volume took a nosedive, and then his stepson opened the door, looking at him with grave eyes. “Hey.”
    “Hey.” Decker tried out a smile. “Can I come in?”
    “Sure.” He stepped aside. “What’s up?”
    “Are you still mad at me?”
    “No, not at all. Sorry about today. I spoke without thinking.”
    “Did you get a lot of flak from your friends?”
    “It’s okay. I can handle myself.”
    Same words as Ernesto. It was the adolescent creed.
    Yonkie licked his lips. “What I don’t want is help, okay?”
    Neatly stated. Decker nodded.
    Yonkie was restless, clearly anxious for him to leave. “Anything else?”
    “I left work early to pick up Hannah,” Decker said. “I’ve left some things unfinished. Can you watch her for a couple of hours until Eema gets home?”
    “No problem.”
    Being agreeable, but there was anger behind it. “Are you all right, Jacob?”
    “Fine. Don’t worry about it.” A pause. “How’s Eema?”
    His voice took on concern. The kid loved his mother. That made two of them. “She’s scrubbing out the synagogue. It was pretty bad.”
    “Does she need help?”
    “You’re helping her by watching Hannah. You sure it’s okay?”
    “Positive. If she gets bored, I’ll take her out somewhere.”
    “Thanks.” Decker patted the boy’s shoulder, but there was no response. Like Jacob was made of stone. Or maybe he was just plain