“Like, possibly up here. And he didn’t want to tell anybody that he’d left the grounds without permission, giving Rigor a legitimate reason to kick him out of the academy.”

“But Dad, even if he was up here, it doesn’t mean he shot her-through a window-half a mile away.”

Decker frowned. “Guys usually don’t cool off by walking around and ruminating,” he said. “They do things. They act. If I were really ticked off at Rigor, I’d have gone straight into target practice and pumped out a few rounds.”

“The range was crowded yesterday,” Cindy pointed out. “We had to wait for booths…” Her eyes widened. “Target practice,” she echoed, and turned to her father. “If he couldn’t work off his frustration that way, because the booths were full, why not come up here and shoot at trees?”

She was excited now. “A stray bullet, Dad-you said that yesterday.”

“Cindy-”

“The wind could have deflected the bullet, carried it through the window!”

“Not if he was shooting in the opposite direction, toward the mountains. Even this wind isn’t strong enough to do that.”

“Or maybe the bullet was deflected by a tree and then carried by the wind,” Cindy said. “And Holstetter didn’t say anything about it because he didn’t want anyone to find out he was shooting. First thing we were taught is never, ever discharge your weapon without a reason! Doing so is grounds for expulsion. Rigor was real big on that rule. Make sense?”

Grudgingly, Decker admitted it made some sense.

“If he was doing target practice, he had to be aiming at something,” Cindy reasoned. “Maybe the building; hence the bullet. Although that would be pretty stupid.”

“More than likely, if he was up here, he was aiming at trees,” Decker said.

“So let’s start looking for bullet holes in tree trunks.”

Decker stared at her.

“Dad, even if Holstetter tells the truth now, they aren’t going to believe him, because he didn’t come clean yesterday. He’s going to be accused of murder. We’re here already. What’s another hour or so?”

“An hour or so of freezing weather is called torture,” Decker said, but he started looking. Because the kid was right.

Sipping coffee in a drab, windowless room, the buzz of cops surrounding her, Cindy prayed that someday she would be a part of all this. She was waiting for her father to finish making his statement to the officers in charge. He was taking a lot longer than she had, she thought-but then his observations carried a lot more weight than hers.

A half hour later, her father emerged. She stood, her eyes questioning. He put an arm around her shoulders and said, “Let’s go.”

“What are they-”

“When we’re in the car.”

They walked quickly to the Porsche. As soon as she was buckled in, Decker gunned it out of the parking lot. He put the heater on.

“Did Holstetter admit to discharging his weapon?” Cindy asked.

“With a murder charge thrown in his face, it was the first thing he did admit,” Decker said. “But at that point, he had a credibility problem. No one was listening to his story.”

He paused and appraised his daughter. “He owes you big, Cindy. You saved him jail time. On the basis of our statements and the physical evidence we recovered, the DA’s going to plea-bargain down to involuntary manslaughter. Holstetter will probably just get probation and community service. But his career as a cop is dead.”

Cindy nodded without speaking.

Decker said, “You carry a gun, you take the responsibility that goes with it. Holstetter didn’t, and it cost a life. If there’s a moral here, it’s ‘Don’t play with firearms.’ ”

“Still, I feel sorry for him,” Cindy said. “He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I know,” Decker said, “but Rigor’s still dead.” He turned down the heater. “A stupid, stupid tragedy. Not a moment has gone by that I haven’t been thanking God. You were two feet away from Rigor when she was hit.”

“Yes, I-” Cindy abruptly changed the subject. “Did you tell them our theory of the bullet trajectory? About the scrape marks on the two tree trunks and the deflection angle that led right toward the window?”

“Yes.”

“What did they say?”

“ ‘Highly unlikely’ was their response… something like that. Still, they must have given it more weight than they let on, because they are planning on reducing the charge.” He smiled. “It didn’t hurt that we found six other bullets in the tree trunks that also matched with Holstetter’s gun. It gave him some mileage in the truth department.”

They rode in silence for a while. Finally, Cindy said, “Our group… do you think the academy will take us back?”

“I don’t think the academy subscribes to collective punishment. Why wouldn’t they take you back-all of you except Holstetter? But they’ll be watching you like hawks.”

“Fair enough.”

“More than fair.” Decker waited a beat. “Cindy, listen to me carefully. You only have one obligation on this earth.”

“What’s that?”

“ To take care of yourself. Promise me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s all I can give you right now, Dad.”

Decker didn’t say anything. Instead, he abruptly pulled onto the freeway shoulder.

Cindy grinned. “Piece of cake. Westbound 118, about to hook onto 405 South. Any other questions?”

“None,” her father said. “That’s it. Class dismissed.”

“A Woman of Mystery” explores the past coming back to haunt the present, a favorite theme of mine. Although we are not controlled by our own histories, we are the sum total of our experiences. How we handle our personal histories says a lot about who we are. This story also offers a tiny glimpse into Rina Lazarus’s past.

As a student, eve miller was different- not odd but distinct. And because Rina Decker was an experienced teacher, she knew this intuitively, although she could have pointed out several objective reasons why she thought Eve unique.

First off, the young woman’s working knowledge of the Bible was far better than most of Rina’s first-year Introduction to Judaism pupils. Although there were gaps in Eve’s knowledge, she knew the stories of Genesis and Exodus by heart and could even quote passages from memory. More impressive, she was familiar with the later sacred texts, specifically the Prophets.

Second, Eve didn’t embrace the religion with the typical zeal found in born-again Jews-the ba’alei tshuva-whom Rina generally taught. On the contrary, Eve appeared hesitant to commit to the Orthodox ways. She asked probing questions and analyzed Rina’s explanations. Eve seemed unsure about her spirituality, so it didn’t surprise Rina to find Eve lingering about after class one evening, waiting for the others to leave.

Maybe Eve had been working up her courage. After all, she was young-early twenties, whereas most of the other pupils were closer to thirty. She was fresh-scrubbed and pretty, with short blond hair that had been layered to expose gold-studded earlobes. Her complexion was soft, her cheeks had a natural blush. Her lips were full, and her eyes were iridescent green. She dressed neatly and conservatively: black slacks, white shirt under a crewneck sweater, flats on her feet. She was on the tall side, five-six or -seven. Her notebook was always tidy, her handwriting legible and neat.

The class was officially over at nine P.M., but there was always a barrage of last-minute comments that stoked protracted discussion. It heartened Rina that her students were so enthusiastic that they rarely noticed the time. But eventually, she did have to put a stop to the after-hours dialogues. Rina did have a life. Still, she always felt a pang of guilt when she announced that it was time to go home.

And even after she dismissed class officially, there were students who had just one more question or one last comment. How could she cut them off at such a crucial time in their religious development? In reality, there wasn’t any pressing need for her to rush home. Her sons were almost young men and certainly didn’t require physical care. Hannah was only six, but she was sleeping soundly by nine. And Peter could always find a way to occupy himself. Still, Rina valued her private time with her husband. As a police lieutenant, Peter worked long, hard hours and she never took her husband for granted.