“That seems like a good idea,” Decker said.

“Unfortunately, the Frummies don’t want the teachers teaching evolution, or sex education, or biology of any kind. Things that are mandatory in the Quinton school curriculum. Plus”-Jonathan sighed-“the Frummies don’t care about secular education. They were dragging down the standardized test scores. There was a big town meeting about it. It got ugly. Here we are.”

Jonathan parked the car.

Decker said, “You don’t approve.”

“I’m not saying you compromise your principles,” Jonathan said. “But you don’t have to create spectacles. Then when you throw in the embezzlement charges… It reflects poorly on all of us.”

“No group is perfect.”

“Of course not. And the vast majority here are wonderful. But when you choose to make yourself visible, you do have an obligation to be a Kiddush Hashem.”

Kiddush Hashem: it more or less meant to set a good example for God.

“Ready?’ Jonathan asked.

“Sure.”

The rabbi opened the door to the van and got out. Decker followed him up the stone walkway to an unassuming two-story brick house similar to those in Boro Park. Jonathan didn’t bother to knock. He opened the door and stepped inside.

“Chaim?” Jonathan turned to Decker. “Come in. They’re expecting us. Chaim?”

“Yonasan?” The voice was coming from upstairs.

“Yeah, it’s me. I have Akiva.”

“I’ll be right down.”

The living room was deceptively spacious. Or maybe it was just the lack of furniture. There was a small grouping around a fireplace-an upholstered couch facing a couple of chairs. But the rest had been formed into a dining room-a square table covered with a white cloth and surrounded by twelve chairs. The floor was tiled with limestone squares, no rug to soften the hard surface. There was a piano in the corner, sheet music on the stand. Decker wondered if Shaynda played.

The walls were painted off-white, freshly done, and bare except for several framed pictures of wizened, bearded rabbis. One was Menachem Mendel Schneerson-the Lubavitcher rebbe. Another was the Chofetz Chaim-a great Jewish scholar of the nineteenth century. Decker didn’t recognize any of the other remaining portraits. Maybe the Liebers had other art and hadn’t gotten around to hanging it up. Somehow Decker doubted that.

A gray-bearded man scrambled down the staircase. Around five-ten and lean, he appeared to be in his forties. He wore the usual Chasidic uniform-black suit, white shirt. No hat on his head; instead, he wore a big black velvet yarmulke. The hair that showed was very thin. Underneath the kippah, he was probably bald. He shook hands with Decker: the palms were calloused. Clearly, a man who did more than learn all day.

“Chaim Lieber.” He dropped Decker’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what to say.”

“Please.”

His eyes watered. “Please sit, Lieutenant.”

“Akiva’s fine. Or Peter.” Decker sat down. “I’m so sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”

“Actually, we met at happier times.”

“At my wedding,” Jonathan said.

“Oh yes, of course.”

“Auf simchas,” Lieber muttered. His hazel eyes were red rimmed. Then he rubbed his forehead. “We’ve looked for her everywhere. So there’s no need for you to…”

“I’m sure you have. Still, sometimes in a panic we overlook-”

“What I really need is for someone to talk to the police,” Lieber blurted out. “Maybe they know something that can help us find her… find Shay-” His voice choked. “Find Shayndie. If you could find out what the police know, that would help.”

“I agree.”

Lieber leaned forward. “Do you think they’ll talk to you?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Lieber-”

“Chaim, please! It’s important that they talk to you. You know what questions to ask. We don’t.” He rubbed his forehead. “I want…” He broke into tears. “I want my daughter back!”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry! Instead, do something!” He shook his head. “I’m sorry-”

“Please,” Decker said. “It’s fine. Can I ask you a few questions, Chaim?”

“Anything at all.”

“I know your daughter was doing some… experimenting-”

“That’s a dead end!” Lieber stated. “We checked with those kids. The police checked with those kids. Nothing!”

“Do you have some names?”

“I don’t remember… goyish names. Ryan, Brian, Ian, Evan… You’ll have to talk to the Quinton Police. But that’s a dead end. You need to talk to the Manhattan Police. That’s where she disappeared.”

“I have calls in to them.”

“Did they call you back?”

“Not yet.”

“New York Police is understaffed now. You’ll have to keep at them.”

“I figured I’d just go down and show up in person. I’m a lieutenant. Sometimes that’ll help. Sometimes not. Depends how cooperative they feel. I’d like to look at Shayndie’s room.”

“Certain-oh no. You can’t. My father’s sleeping there. He was up all night.”

Decker was quiet.

“He’s an old man,” Lieber said. “Frail.”

“It’s just the sooner I look, the more likely it is that I’ll find-”

“Why don’t you come back?” Lieber suggested. “After you talk to the police. You can tell us what they say. And by then, I’m sure my father will be up. And my wife, too. You’d like to talk to her, I assume.”

“Of course.”

“She’s out cold. Yonasan told me to give her pills, right?”

Jonathan nodded, but was clearly uncomfortable with the advice he had given.

Decker said, “Can I just ask you about the other times Shaynda ran away?”

Lieber turned his head. “Not times. A time. One time. She sneaked out and went to a party. The other kids started doing terrible things. She got scared and called us to pick her up. At least she had the sense to do that.”

“What happened?”

“I picked her up, what do you think?”

“Did you punish her?”

“Of course she was punished! She was lucky that the boys didn’t try anything with her. Stupid child!” He winced. “I was mad at her. Now I wish…”

Decker nodded.

“A rebellious child can take a lot from you.”

“I know, sir. One of my boys has a mind of his own.”

“It’s different with boys! They can protect themselves! Girls can’t. And girls get stupid when it comes to boys.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“One time!” Lieber insisted. “She promised that she’d do better after that. It really scared her.”

“What in specific?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t there. I assume it was drugs and sex! All of those kids are wild animals. The parents have no control. They’re no better than the kids-divorce, affairs, drugs, and alcohol-no wonder the children are beasts.”

Jonathan looked away, his jaw bulging under his cheek.

“She was doing better,” Lieber said. “My brother… by no means a tzaddik… but he was… he had… She would talk to him. It was helping her. It was helping him. I thought he was doing better.”

“Maybe he was doing better, Chaim,” Jonathan offered.

“Yes, Yonasan, that’s why they found him naked in a hotel room!”

Jonathan blew out air.

Chaim punched his right hand inside his left. “Please, Akiva. Go down and talk to the police. If we find out what happened to Ephraim, then maybe we can find out what happened to Shayndie. Please. It’s Friday. You don’t have much time because of Shabbos. Go now!”

“I’d still like to see her room,” Decker said.

“Yes, yes. This afternoon. Come back and we’ll talk then.”

“I could use a picture.”

“The police have one. Go talk to the police.” Chaim stood up and extended his hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Decker rose from the chair and shook the limp fingers. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yes, you have. You’re here and that’s something.” He held up a finger. “Like Moshe Rabainu and Avraham Avenu, you came when you heard the call.”