He stormed out of the house. His fury was so all-consuming that it took a moment before he realized that his brother was talking to him.

“… doesn’t mean anything, Akiva. She’s beside herself.”

“I realize that.” Decker’s voice was a growl. He opened the van door and sat inside, arms folded in front. His stomach was a tight knot of acid.

Jonathan got behind the wheel. “Akiva-”

“Funny. As a goy, I was certainly good enough to drag out here to settle things down. Now, when I actually try to work, they’re putting up fences. You’re damn lucky I’m not that sensitive. More important, you’re damn lucky I really want to find this poor girl.”

Jonathan said, “You’re not a goy.”

“No, I’m not. But she doesn’t know that, does she? As far as she’s concerned, I’m this big, dumb lug of a cop from hick town L.A. who converted just to please Rina.” Decker caught his breath. “Look. I feel for the woman. I really do, Jonathan. But it still pisses me off.” He leaned his head back and stared at the van’s ceiling. “I’m out of my element here. They’re right. It was a mistake for me to come out.”

“I am so sorry!”

For the first time, Decker heard the pain in his brother’s voice. “God, I’m taking it out on you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

Decker smiled. “Spoken like a true pastor.” He checked his watch. “Well, the good news is we’ll have time to visit the Quinton Police.”

Suburban police departments had a distinct advantage over their city rivals-a large homeowner tax base. A case could be made that the richer WASPs on the north side were supporting the poorer Jews on the south side because their houses were bigger and the lots were expansive. But an equal case could be made in the opposite direction-that the Jews were contributing more than their fair share because for every one Gentile manse, there were three Jewish houses. What the Jews lacked in quality, they made up in quantity.

The primary police station was located in Liberty Park, with a half-dozen drop-in station storefronts-manned by two officers-scattered among the three or four commercial areas. The station’s construction was new: a square edifice of steel and one-way mirrored glass that was well lit and well ventilated. The detectives’ squad room was spacious with approximately the same square footage as Decker’s squad room back in L.A. The difference was that Devonshire hosted seating for forty-three gold-shield carriers, whereas Quinton had twelve full-time detectives, each with his or her own phone, answering machine, voice mail, and computer.

The Homicide/Robbery division was 99.9 percent robbery, and.1 percent homicide. Of the three homicides that Quinton had last year, one was a suicide-a ninety-six-year-old man with late-stage prostate cancer-and two were reckless homicides-Man I-from the same vehicular accident. For a fleeting moment, Decker entertained thoughts about retiring to a pastoral suburb like Quinton. The idea left his cerebral cortex as soon as it entered.

Because he was a lieutenant from a big city, Decker was awarded a meeting with Virgil Merrin, the chief of the Quinton Police. Merrin was six-one, one step shy of fat, with that wet-shave pink skin, and hair so blond and thin that his scalp showed through. He had light blue eyes that sparkled when Decker told him he was originally from Gainesville, Florida. Merrin was from West Virginia, so that meant they were both good old boys. After several minutes of batting around bass-fishing trivia, Merrin got down to substance.

“A cryin’ shame about the girl.” Merrin wore a blue suit with a light blue shirt, the buttons stretched by the man’s gut. He gave a soulful glance to Jonathan. “A damn shame! We went house to house-all of the girl’s friends. Nothing!”

They were in Merrin’s office on the third floor. It had a generous view of the park-of the wind-bent tulips shimmering like waves of colored banners. The lake was also visible from the window, the surface steely with tiny whitecap ripples. From where Merrin sat, he could see it all. In another context, it could be considered cozy. All that was lacking was a fireplace, a newspaper, and a cup of coffee.

“What about the other side?” Decker asked him. “The public-school kids.”

Merrin chuckled. “Let me explain. The two sides… no interaction. Even the Jews who live in the north side… no interaction with the Jews in the south.”

“One of the father’s complaints-”

“That’d be Chaim Lieber.”

“Yes, sir,” Decker answered. “One of Rabbi Lieber’s beefs with Shayndie was that she was hanging with some of the public-school kids. Wild kids.”

“See, that’s another problem,” Merrin stated. “That’s his definition… the wild kids. What may be wild to him is harmless to us. He sees a girl in shorts during the summertime; to him, that’s a wild whore of a girl. What do you and me see? A girl that’s dressed for summer. If Shaynda Lieber was really hanging with some wild kids… then I could do something for him. Cause there is a certain element-not a bad element, per se-but a certain element. You know the story-loud, unsupervised parties, fast driving, binge drinking… and yeah, probably a toke or two. See, if I knew for certain that it was those kids, then I could maybe pay them a visit. But I think that to Rabbi Lieber, any kid on the north side is a wild kid.” His eyes went to Jonathan’s face. “See what I’m saying here, Rabbi?”

“We understand.” Decker turned to Jonathan. “Didn’t you say that Shayndie used to hang out at the mall?”

“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “The one in Bainberry.”

“All the kids on the north side hang out at the mall in Bainberry. That’s neither here nor there. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t all this hullabaloo take place in the city?”

“Yes, of course,” Decker said. “But I’m just wondering if she’s maybe hiding out with one of the north side kids.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said. “Maybe she saw something. Maybe she’s afraid to come home.”

“Only reason she’d be afraid to come home is if one of her own kind was implicated. Now, you know as well as I know, Rabbi, I could ask those folks questions from today till tomorrow. They’re not going to talk to me. But maybe they’ll talk to you.”

Punting the responsibility back to him-back to the Jews.

Decker said, “You’re probably right. But if you do hear of something-”

Merrin spread his hands out in generosity. “Of course, if I hear of something, I’ll go straight to the parents. I’ve got people on this, Lieutenant. We did search the south side, door-to-door. And maybe you have a point there… her hiding in the north side. You know what I’ll do for you? I’ll have my men ask around.”

Decker knew what that meant. A cursory walk to a couple of houses, maybe passing out a few flyers.

Merrin said, “I’ll have my men and women ask around.” He smiled. “I hope you’re not one of those sensitive types. There are no biases in this department, but old habits…”

Decker nodded. “Thanks for seeing us.”

Merrin gave out a heavy sigh. “I’m not giving up on her. You know that. If she’s around, we’ll find her.”

Decker hoped he was right. Because the Stones notwithstanding, time wasn’t on their side.