Authors: Faye Kellerman
Something was going
on outside the mikvah.
She’d been hearing things for days, now, and had grown sufficiently edgy to have Zvi Adler or some of the other
kollel
men walk her home.
Tonight the sounds seemed closer. The crackling of twigs, dull noises that could have been footsteps. It had been going on for the last ten minutes, but there was still a half hour’s worth of work to do. She was sick of being frightened by shadows, terrorized by a phantom that lacked the courage to show its monstrous face in the daylight. She wanted this ogre captured and felt her fear turn to rage.
She grabbed up the phone receiver and called Foothill Division. Decker’s extension rang twelve times before she finally gave up. She stared at his home number pinned on the wall. He’d said feel free to use it, but the pangs of anger had abated, and she was hesitant about intruding upon his privacy.
The footsteps outside returned, louder. She acted.
He picked it up on the third ring.
“Peter? It’s Rina Lazarus.”
“Are you calling to rescind your restraining order?” he joked.
“Peter, I’m at the mikvah. There’s someone outside.”
“Is everything locked?” His voice turned serious.
“Yes. The windows and doors are all bolted shut. But I’m scared stiff.”
“Rina, it’ll take me about fifteen minutes to get there. If you really feel endangered, don’t wait for me. Call up one of the yeshiva boys—”
“No, that’s okay. I’m all right. Just get down here as soon as you can.”
“Bye.”
After hanging up, she forced herself to do the laundry. There was a light load tonight, but it took the same amount of time to wash a light load as a heavy one. The same amount of time
waiting
.
She slammed the washer lid shut and looked around for something that could be used for protection. Just in case. The only objects that looked remotely lethal were a blow dryer and a curling iron. She imagined using the iron on the intruder’s genitals and felt better for a moment.
She paced aimlessly and heard a rattling at the door. Someone was trying to get in. Her heart began pounding wildly. She reached for the phone, but the sound disappeared. Grip
ping the receiver, she listened to the dial tone, then hung up.
Peter should be here any second. Don’t panic. Stay cool. You can’t always be dependent on someone else for protection. You have to use your own head.
Silence. Then the washer gurgled, and she jumped. She’d loaded the machine with too much soap, and the tub was frothing with bubbles. Damn it! The towels would probably have to be rinsed a third time.
Vowing to herself to retain control, she plopped into the armchair and picked up a sheaf of math papers. The numbers and symbols danced in front of her eyes, suddenly foreign. She didn’t know what any of it meant. Just numbers and letters and funny Greek signs.
Calm. Stay calm. These were senior papers…This had to be calculus…She’d been teaching the seniors integrals. That Greek symbol was a summation sign. Slowly she relaxed, and the papers became comprehensible again. She picked up her red pen and began to grade.
A minute later she heard a loud, confident knock that startled her and caused the pen to skid across the paper. But she knew who it was.
“Who is it?” she asked, just to make sure.
“It’s Peter, Rina. Open up.”
She recognized the voice and opened the door.
“Am I glad to see you,” she said spontaneously.
“Ditto,” he smiled.
She blushed. “I didn’t mean that as a—”
“I know you didn’t. I’m just trying to lighten you up. You look terrified.”
“I am…I was. Did you look around outside?”
“Not yet. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
He shook his head.
“Uh uh. If something’s going on, you’re much safer inside.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who feels vulnerable, waiting alone and hearing noises.”
“I’ll be close by.”
“You’re not going to search in the bushes?”
“If need be, but—”
“I want to come with you, Peter.”
“What will the neighbors say?” he grinned, moving toward the door with long strides.
“
Pekuach nefesh
. The saving of a life takes precedence over everything in Judaism.” She looked upward. “Forgive me if I improvise a little.”
“Come on. We’re wasting time. Stay close,” he said.
“That sounds fine to me.”
They walked outside into a gust of warm air. Westerly winds had cooled the valley but had also brought a plague of gnats. Goddam bugs gnawed at your flesh, Decker cursed to himself, slapping. Turning on a high-beam flashlight, he swept it over the brush and the pathway. Frowning, he began to walk slowly
and deliberately toward the woods. Rina kept slightly behind him and to his left.
“See anything unusual?” she asked.
His ears perked up. “Hear that?”
She shook her head. “What is it?”
“I think you’re right,” he whispered. “Something’s going on out here.”
“Why?”
“Look here. Footprints leading to the forest. Sounds. Breathing. Not like any animal I know.” He turned to Rina. “I don’t want you out here with me. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind a back-up. Go back in the mikvah and call the police. When you get through say, ‘Code Six.’”
“Walk back alone?”
“It’s less noisy that way.” He took out his gun. “I’ll cover you. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and flush out the son of a bitch.”
“That sounds peachy,” she said with an edge in her voice.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll walk you back. Let’s not waste anymore time on it.”
“No, I can handle myself. Just make sure I’m inside before you take off.”
“Flash the lights twice when you’ve bolted the door.”
“Be careful out there, Peter.”
She started back and was almost at the door when she saw the figure coming. Before she had a chance to react, she heard Peter scream, “Police! Freeze!” Rina threw herself to the ground but could make out a silhouette swiveling toward Peter’s voice and taking aim. She heard a burst of loud popping noises coming
from all directions, then saw the figure make a dash for the woodlands.
“You okay?” shouted the detective already moving.
“Yes!”
“Get the hell inside and change the police call to a Code Three! I’m going after him.” He was off.
She sprang to her feet, ran into the mikvah, and locked herself inside. She dialed the station and was amazed at her calmness in relating the story, going through the motions mechanically. But once she got off the phone she began to shake uncontrollably. Minutes later she heard footsteps followed by more banging at the door.
She opened it.
There were a dozen policemen. Overhead, a helicopter rumbled like a giant locust, turning night to morning with its spotlight. She squinted and returned her gaze to the officers, looking for a familiar face. She found two: the big blonde, Marge, and the fat detective. They jogged toward her.
“Detective Decker’s out there, somewhere in the hills,” Rina said breathlessly to Marge. “I think the guy shot at him, but I don’t think he got hit.”
Marge, Hollander, and the uniforms conferred. The patrolmen scattered quickly into the brush, and Hollander went off to search the yeshiva grounds, leaving the two women alone.
“Want to go inside?” Marge asked.
“I’m fine. I’d feel a lot better if I knew Peter was okay.”
“Peter?”
“Detective Decker.”
Marge had to smile. “Yes. Detective Decker.”
Rina looked up and laughed nervously. “I guess there was no need to explain who he was. I’m very jittery.”
Marge threw her arm around the quivering woman. “You’re holding up just fine. And don’t worry about Peter. He knows what he’s doing. You want to tell me what happened?”
As Rina related the events of the evening, students from the yeshiva began to converge upon the area. The boys stared wide-eyed at the squad cars and the circling ’copter and asked her what was going on. She turned away, weary of being the center of attention, just wanting to go home. She hoped to God the police would find this fiend and free her of the fear that was eating at her insides.
And she hoped nothing happened to Peter. Just let him be okay. He was her responsibility, she felt, since she’d called him down in the first place.
Within minutes a sizable crowd had gathered and Marge was working hard to contain the mass to one area.
Chana, Ruthie, and Chaya came up to Rina. They had been attending a bible class that evening and on their way home were attracted to the tumult. What had happened? Rina tried to say as little as possible, but they kept pumping
her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone and go home? They meant well, but her patience was gone, and she turned away. Finally, they shook their heads and gave up.
The helicopter kept whirling overhead, flooding the ground with a hot jet of white light. The minutes turned hopelessly long. Finally, she saw Peter emerge from the trees.
“
Baruch Hashem
,” she said out loud, blessing God.
“Did they catch him?” Chana asked excitedly.
Rina looked at her, then at Decker. He was alone.
“No. I don’t think they caught him yet.”
“Then why the
Baruch Hashem
?”
Rina ignored her and walked over to Decker who led her to an isolated spot beyond the crowd. She felt Chana’s eyes boring in on her. She was pleased when, a moment later, Marge and Hollander joined them. That made it look better.
“How are you holding up?” Pete asked her.
“I’m fine. Nobody shot at
me
. I’m glad you’re all right.”
Decker smiled at her. To the other detectives he said: “I lost the bastard. I saw him a couple of times, but I couldn’t close in on him because he kept popping bullets at me. Asshole’s a good shot. He came awfully close.”
He lit a cigarette.
“Couldn’t make a damn detail on him except he looked like he was shooting with his right hand. I’d put him at five eight to eleven
with an average build. Dark clothing. And he was wearing a ski mask. That’s it. So damn
dark
up there. The last time I saw him was about five hundred feet behind the main building in the backlands. There’re four uniforms up there right now. It’s probably useless, but I told them to keep at it for another half hour. I’m going to poke around the grounds just in case the prick gets cute and decides to camp out overnight.”
“I’ll comb the buildings,” Hollander said.
“Good idea.”
A man was approaching them.
“The Adler woman’s husband,” said Marge. “Here goes nothing.”
“Luck, Peter.” Hollander saluted with his pipe and left.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Adler,” Decker said when Zvi was in hearing distance. “We’re still looking.”
Zvi’s eyes were full of rage. “I want to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Mr. Adler. It’s in the hands of professionals.”
“Professionals?” Zvi turned on Decker. “You can’t find this
mamzer
, and you have the nerve to call yourself a professional? Is this what professionals do? Stand around and gab while he’s still loose in the hills?”
“Detective Decker’s been in the hills for over an hour, Zvi,” Rina defended him. “That animal was shooting at him.”
Zvi peeled off some rapid Hebrew at her. She fired some back. They stared at each other.
“Seems to me everybody’s frustration is being misdirected,” Decker said calmly. “It’s the criminal’s throat we want. Not each other’s.”
The Rosh Yeshiva walked over.
“What is going on here?” he asked tensely. “Nobody is telling me anything.”
Decker filled him in on the details.
“And you called the police?” Schulman asked Rina.
“I called Detective Decker, actually.”
The old man said nothing.
“She did the right thing,” Decker said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Certainly not to catch bad guys,” Zvi muttered.
Schulman barked something to Adler in Yiddish. The younger man looked down.
“There is a mob out there,” Schulman said to Decker. “I’ll do what I can to get the boys back in the classrooms and dormitories, but tell your men to ease up with the threats and pushing. A few of them are becoming abusive.”
“I’ll go back with you, Rabbi,” Marge offered. “You talk to your boys, I’ll talk to the police.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Dunn and Schulman left the three of them alone.
“
At smaycha?
” Zvi said sarcastically to Rina.
“
Maspeek, Zvi
,” she answered. She was almost in tears. “
Bevakasha
.”
Zvi sighed.
“I’m sorry, Rina.” He looked at Decker. “I
know this isn’t your fault. I’m frustrated.”
“It’s okay. I understand,” Decker answered. “I’m going to look around a little more. You’ll stay with Mrs. Lazarus?”
Adler nodded.
“You go home, Zvi,” she said, wearily. “Tell my kids, I’m fine. I’ll wait with the women.”
“Detective?”
The three of them turned around and saw two patrolmen flanking a yeshiva student in his late twenties. The man was stooped and thin, with scanty, black, untrimmed whiskers that grew from a gaunt face. His black jacket was oversized and torn at the pockets, his white shirt wrinkled and tucked carelessly into patched black pants. The shoes on his feet were scuffed and caked with dirt. His eyes were dark and dull and swirled aimlessly in their sockets. On his head was a black homburg with the rim coming loose. His arms had been pinioned behind him and cuffed. He seemed as insubstantial as a scarecrow as the policemen shoved him along.
“Look what we found wandering in the bushes.”
“Oh my God,” Rina muttered.
“Read him his rights?” Decker asked.
“First thing,” one of the policemen answered.
“Take him down to the station.”
“Peter, that’s not the rapist,” Rina said.
He looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“That’s Moshe. He’s the groundskeeper.”
“Well, he could also be a rapist.”