I flipped through my mental calendar. “Friday night?”

He winced. “I am notshomer Shabbat.I do drive much to my father’s disapproval, but I don’t usually go out Friday, except maybe aShabbatdinner.”

“I understand. Look, I work evening watch. Nights are hard. How about lunch?”

“Lunch would be fine. How about Wednesday? I don’t start here until six in the evening.”

I didn’t start work until three. I told him that Wednesday would be fine. “Let’s meet at the restaurant. That way I can go straight to work afterward.”

And it avoided giving him my phone number or e-mail address.

He seemed tickled. “Perfect! Have you ever had Ethiopian food?”

“Never had the pleasure, but I’m adventurous.”

“Meet me on the corner of Fairfax and Olympic-southeast corner-at twelve, maybe?”

Little Addis Ababa. It was only a block or two in length, but it was in striking contrast to the Jewish area around it. “Twelve it is. Any vegetarian dishes in your cuisine?”

“Many. You are vegetarian?”

“Not strictly, but most of the time.”

“I am kosher and the restaurants are not. So I will eat vegetarian, too.”

His pager went off again. I stood and so did he. “It was really nice meeting you, Koby.”

He laughed. “You sound shocked.”

“Not shocked.” I shrugged. “It was just… unexpected.”

“That’s when it is the nicest,” he said, beaming. “It was lovely meeting you, Cindy. I look forward to Wednesday.”

He turned and walked hurriedly out of the cafeteria. He moved with grace and confidence, a man clearly comfortable in his own skin.

?

The streets held scant traffic and I made good time, catching all green lights down Sunset Boulevard. This was my district, and out of habit, I slowed at the hot spots-the pay phones used by the hookers at the pimp motels. Still some foot soldiers out at two in the morning, but nothing too heavy. Poor girls were shivering, wearing microminiskirts and tank tops with only thin shawls to warm their bare shoulders. They teetered as if drunk, but it could have been the ultrahigh platform shoes.

I thought about my upcoming date. There were three immediate things in Koby’s favor: He didn’t appear to be a psycho, he was employed, and he seemed genuinely nice-more interested inmethan in myprofession.

Civilian guys usually split into two camps-those intimidated by female cops, and those obsessed with the fact that I carried a gun. The only men who truly didn’t care were those involved with the Job-other cops, DAs, PDs, probation officers, private detectives, and bail bondsmen. Those dates usually dulled very quickly because after we talked shop, there was nothing else. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The Job was consuming, and those of us immersed in it often forgot that there was a whole other world out there.

Scanning the streets, I recognized one of the working ladies and immediately slowed. She had on fishnet stockings whose tops came below the hemline of her sleeveless red minidress. Smooth brown arms swayed as she walked. Her lemon-colored hair, marred by dark roots, had been pulled into a ponytail.

I rolled down the window. “I hope you’re on your way home, Magenta.”

She squinted. She was nearsighted but never wore glasses while working. I found this out after she claimed to have witnessed an assault on a bag lady. The detectives had a specific perp in mind and put him in a lineup. After peering at the men, Magenta had picked out Detective Elgen Halkhower from GTA detail. Now she said, “Who’s there?”

“It’s Officer Decker.”

“Officer Decker? You still on duty?”

“An officer’s work is never done.”

“Same here.”

“Except I don’t give my money to a pimp.”

“Just the U.S. government-biggest-ass pimp in the whole wide world.”

She had a point. “C’mon, honey. Tell Burton if I find your ass out here again, I’m gonna haul you in. The money you’ll make will just about square with bail.”

She sighed. “All right, all right. I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”

She’d turn back around as soon as I was gone.

“How’s your son?” I asked her.

Her smile was genuine. “Gettin’ bigger and bigger. Like his dad.”

Her pimp, Burton, had fathered her child along with six other children by four other women. In some regard, the extended family made it easier for the girls. While they peddled their asses, someone was home watching the kids. “Hon, you need to get off the street.”

“I said I’m goin’.”

I pulled away and hit the pedal until I was going around forty. At the corner of La Cienega Boulevard and Sunset, I turned left, my car tobogganing down the steep hillside as I headed toward home.

Home was Culver City, a small throwback just south of L.A. The hamlet still contained free parking and one-of-a-kind shops. I could walk the streets and pick up just about anything-from discounted clothing at designer outlets to exotic spices from the Indian markets. The area held a salad of ethnicities and maybe that’s why I felt comfortable with Koby. There was safety in diversity, with no one race thinking that it owned the world. Maybe it was naive, but to me, that was what America was all about.

Darkness surrounded him,yet it was emptiness that he sensed, that caused his body to break into a cold sweat.

FourA.M.and he was alone. Where’d she go?

Clad only in pajama bottoms, Decker bolted from the bed, too panicked to bother with his robe and slippers. He found Rina at the kitchen table. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“When did you get up?”

“Actually, I never went to sleep.”

She hunched over dozens of Xeroxed papers and duplicates of black-and-white photographs. The initial burst of artificial light had caused him to squint. When he realized what his wife was looking at, he felt his eyes go wide.

“Good Lord, what in theworld!”

Rina stood up, pulling her terry-cloth robe tightly around her body. “You’re shivering. Go put a robe on.”

Ignoring her, Decker picked up a picture. It was a head shot. The eyes were closed, the mouth slightly agape, the hair pulled off the face. The woman appeared to be around forty. Even without benefit of color, he had seen enough postmortem photos to know what he was studying. “Rina, what’s going on!”

She took the picture from him and set it back down on the table. “My grandmother.” She slipped her arms around her husband, biting his mustache gently. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time, you’re shivering. Go put on a robe.” She kissed his nose. “Or better yet, go back to sleep.”

Sleep was definitelynoton the agenda. He regarded his wife, with her pale skin and her intense eyes that shone sapphire in the dim light. Her raven hair was mussed and flyaway, brushing against her shoulders. It was longer than he had remembered. He rarely saw her tresses loose. As a religious woman, Rina kept her hair pinned or in a braid with the top of her head covered by a tam or kerchief. He tried out a suggestive look. “I’ll go back to bed ifyougo back to bed.”

Her smile was tired. “That’ll work for me. Just let me clean up.”

His eyes went back to the table. Among the array of handwritten pages and photographs was a German-English dictionary. His brain started to fire. “Okay, I’m awake now. You snagged me. I am now curious. What is this all about?”

“You want the lowdown on this before or after?”

It wasn’t even close. “After. You got my hopes up, woman.”

“I have no intention of dashing them. Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Hygiene is a turn-on.” She swatted his rear. “Go.”

“Should I shave?”

“It might wake up Hannah.”

Nix the shaving. He went back into the bedroom, with his expectations and the free-floating anxiety that was now his ever-present companion. He’d become accustomed to the knots in his stomach, gauging his agitation by the constriction of his gut. It was as if an invisible belt encircled his belly. Sometimes it was tight, sometimes it went slack, but it was always there.