The Rosh Yeshiva nodded. “Come to my house after dinner and we’ll do a little head-sizing, then a little Gemara. I’ll see you both later.”

The boys picked up their suitcases and scampered off, calling out a bye to Rina. She waved her fingers at them.

Rav Schulman motioned Rina to come walk with him. She waited for him to leave the room and start walking, but kept a few paces behind him. Schulman stopped and beckoned her forward. Quickly, Rina took a place by his side. They walked down a long hallway of the building until they found the door leading to the grounds.

The yeshiva had been built into the valley’s mountainside, and the perimeter of the school was still marked with much of the original terrain-rocky terraces naturally landscaped with wild vegetation and flowers. The grounds themselves had been bulldozed and leveled for the buildings. The dozen or so structures were separated by rolling lawns scored with cement pathways. Rina walked with the Rav in silence as they headed toward a grouping of private houses.

Rav Schulman and his wife lived in the largest house in the tract. Not because his ego demanded it-although that would have been fitting-but because the couple was always entertaining guests. Sammy and Jacob were just two of the many people who revolved through the Schulmans’ doors. The house had six bedrooms upstairs and a downstairs with no living room or den. Most of the bottom level space had been converted to a communal dining room dressed with long, linen-covered tables. What space was left had been allocated for a kitchen, a service bathroom, and the Rav’s study.

The old man swung open an unlocked door and waved Rina inside. As she came in, the smell of homemade chicken soup opened her nostrils. Schulman sniffed deeply.

“Smells good.”

“Very,” Rina answered. “The Rebbitzen is a wonderful cook.”

“I have been truly blessed. Not only is the Rebbitzen a eshet chayil, but a superb chef, Baruch Hashem. Me? Maybe I can boil an egg.”

The old man took a seat at one of the dining tables, keeping the front door wide open. In Jewish law, it was forbidden for a man and women who weren’t married to each other to be alone in a closed room. From the Rav’s action, Rina surmised that no one else was home.

Schulman folded his hands and set them on the table, inviting Rina to sit across from him. He said, “As I recall, Rina Miriam, you were quite a cook yourself.”

“With time, I improved.” She smiled. “The first time you and the Rebbitzen ate over our house, Rav Schulman, I burned the roast.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I do very much. All of us ate leather that night. I should have brought in take-out and made wallets out of the meat.”

“And what did Yitzchak say to you after the meal was over?”

“He told me I prepared a lovely meal and that the roast was delicious.”

Schulman smiled sadly. “He was a good boy, my Yitzchak, alav shalom. I miss him still.”

Rina nodded but said nothing.

“Akiva is a good boy as well. Different those two, but similar in character. Both were endowed with a strong moral fiber.” He smiled again. “And with a strong love for you.”

“I’ve been very fortunate, Baruch Hashem.”

“Tell me how my Akiva is doing? As tormented as ever?”

Rina let go with a small smile. “He works hard.”

“That disappearing Israeli family…that is Akiva’s assignment?”

“Yes, Rav.”

“And have they found any trace of the family yet?”

Rina lowered her eyes. “I think they found the parents…their bodies this morning.”

The old man winced. “Ah, such a terrible, terrible thing. Akiva must be very upset.”

“He says it’s his job-Homicide. I don’t see how a person can ever get used to such horror, but I’m not a cop.”

“I see I have upset you by asking about the case. I am sorry.”

“No, no, Rav, not at all. I…I mean, I am upset…but…” She stopped talking.

Schulman said, “I have made time for you, Rina Miriam. Tell me about your houseguests.”

In a gust of breath, Rina unburdened herself, starting with the phone call from Honey, ending with the murder of her husband and the abandoned van. By the time she was done, tears had formed pools in her eyes.

“I’m scared for Honey, Rav, but it’s the children…I can’t get those faces out of my head. I should have paid more attention to Honey’s concerns. I should have traveled with her-”

“And if something nefarious had happened to you, would you have felt better being a victim?”

Rina didn’t speak.

“I’ve been a victim, Rina Miriam. Though it is not an easy task, it is better to deal with survivor’s guilt.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She brushed them away. “I suppose I should have told you the detailed story in the beginning. I just didn’t know how to tell you everything over the phone.”

The old man was silent, reflecting upon Rina’s story. “Tell me again about Gershon Klein. His attempt to become a Nazir.”

Rina told him as much as she could remember about her conversation with the Leibbener Rebbe. “It was very nice that he spoke to me. Very kind. But…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding disrespectful.”

“So you now have made your disclaimer. Speak your mind freely.”

Rina smiled and looked down. “I had the feeling he wasn’t telling me everything. Then again, why should he? He doesn’t know me at all. Why should he trust me when something so grave has happened?”

Schulman said, “Perhaps I should intercede on your behalf.”

“You mean call him for me? Rav, I would never ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, I volunteered. I will assist you if you think it would be helpful.”

“Yes, I think that would be extremely helpful,” Rina said. “The Rebbe was very nice to me, but I’m sure he would be more open…as one Rav to another.”

“If our differences don’t get in our way.” The old man grinned. “The Leibbener Rebbe is a Chasid. And I’m a Litvak. That can be fireworks!” Schulman held up a finger. “But for the common good of your houseguest and her young children, I’m sure we can be civil to one another.” The old man stroked his beard. “I, too, am very concerned for the children.”

Rina blinked hard.

“How are you feeling, Rina Miriam?”

“Fine, Rav, thank you.”

The old man nodded, not pressing Rina to talk about herself and her recent hysterectomy. Right now, she was too concerned about her houseguests. “I’m glad you’re feeling well.”

Schulman stood and so did Rina.

“I will call the Leibbener Rebbe and ask about Gershon Klein and his family. Then I will report back to you and Akiva all that he tells me.” The old man shrugged. “It may have nothing to do with their mysterious disappearance, but at least you may learn something about your houseguests.”

“Thank you, Rav Schulman. And thank you for taking in the boys. I’m sure they’ll enjoy their stay here very much.”

“And I will enjoy having them.”

“They were very happy here at the yeshiva, Rav Schulman. I want you to know that. It was my decision-mine and Akiva’s-to take them out and put them in a more modern school.”

The Rosh Yeshiva’s eyes turned crinkly. “That being the case, let them learn here to their hearts’ content. And you can go to college in their places.”

The title of assistant bank manager belonged to a young Hispanic woman named Marie Santiago who wore a keyring bracelet on her wrist. She stood at a long marble counter topped with a computer and a phone, and shuffled through official papers. Then she looked at her wristwatch.

“It’s almost closing time.”

Decker’s eyes went to the wall clock-four-thirty P.M. “Still got a half hour.”

Marie was not easily swayed. “We’re supposed to put a hold on the boxes for the IRS.”

“You can freeze the assets,” Marge said. “We don’t want to take them, just have a look at them.”