Faye Kellerman - Decker 13 - The Forgotten Read online

  'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' He covered his face. 'I'm such a pain in the butt.'

  'You're not a pain... yeah, you are a pain. You're very worrisome. I'm stymied. I don't know what to do.'

  'Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid, I promise you.'

  'Are you being open with Dr Gruen, Jake?'

  'Bit by bit. Like I am with you. I tell him partial truths until I get the nerve to tell him the whole truth. He can tell what I'm doing, but lets me go at my own pace. He's much better than the first one. I didn't like her at all.'

  'Did you tell him about your threatening remarks to Ruby Ranger?'

  'Yeah. We've been working on that.'

  'Okay.' Decker chose his words carefully. 'Would you mind if I called him? I could use some guidance on what to do for you.'

  'You're doing fine, Dad. I probably talk to you as much as I talk to him.'

  No, I am not doing fine! Mildly, Decker said, 'So you'd prefer that I don't call him?' 'Let me talk to him first, okay?'

  'Fair enough. Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?' 'About Ruby Ranger or about me?'

  'At the moment, I'm more interested in you than in Ruby Ranger.'

  'What specifically? Drugs? Yeah, I took pills, too. Mostly

  downers when pot wasn't enough. I liked being zonked out. It took the edge off the anger.'

  'What else, Yonkie?'

  'That's it.'

  Silence.

  'No, really. That's it.' He showed Decker his forearms. 'See? I'm clean. I'm very angry, but I'm not chemically altered. You're seeing the unadulterated Yonkel.'

  Decker tried out a smile. He thought he was partially successful. 'What about sex?'

  'What about it?'

  'Are you sexually active? I'd like to be sure that you're protecting yourself.'

  'Very much so.' Jacob smiled. 'I'm not doing anything.'

  Decker's laugh was real. 'Okay.'

  'I made this deal with myself, that I'd wait with girls until I go away next year to Johns Hopkins. I have to work to keep the grades up, and girls are a distraction. Mostly, I'll be older, the girls will be older. It ain't easy, but I can wait.'

  'That's very smart.' Decker stalled. Somehow, he got the words out. 'Actually, when I asked you if you'd like to tell me something, I was thinking about criminal activity, Jacob.'

  Jacob turned red and looked away.

  'Am I way off base?' Decker asked.

  Jacob continued to stare off. 'I shoplifted.'

  'B-and-E's?',

  'No.' He looked at Decker. 'No.'

  Decker was about to say, 'Okay, I believe you,' but he couldn't find his voice.

  Jacob said, 'I shoplifted. Mostly booze, but I also stole about a dozen CDs over about a three-month period.' A pause. 'Sixteen CDs. Don't ask me how I did it with all those metal detectors. There are ways. I'm doing kapparah for it.'

  'What kind of atonement?' Decker asked, using the English word.

  'I never opened the CDs. They were still in their wrappers.' A

  beat. 'Two months ago, Dr Gruen called the store manager. He explained the situation without mentioning names. Then he returned the CDs for me, no questions asked. As far as the stolen booze goes, I screwed up my nerve and did that myself. I used to hit this mom-and-pop liquor store. The owner - Mr Kim - he's being decent about the whole thing. We reached an agreement - a price. I'm working it off - manual labor stuff. Stocking shelves, sweeping, cleaning... watching kids for theft. Now, that is ironic, Alanis Morissette. I do it on Shabbos because it's the only day I have off. Eema thinks I'm with friends, but I'm not. You can check it out if you want.'

  'Where is this place?'

  'About four miles from the house. I walk there after lunch. Yossie picks me up after dark. I used to see some of the old crowd there. Now they stay clear of me and of Mr Kim. I may not have scared Ruby Ranger, but I think I scared lots of them.'

  Decker rubbed his head.

  'I've given you a headache.'

  'I'm just glad you told me all this after the fact.'

  Jacob said, 'I'm doing better, Dad. It's hard, but I'll be all right.'

  'Yonkie...' Decker cleared his throat. 'Am I wrong in assuming that the bastard who molested you did more than you've admitted?'

  Again, the teen turned red. 'I told you everything that I remembered. But there may be stuff that... that I blocked out. I was only seven, so... you know.'

  Decker felt sick to his stomach. What did that motherfucker do? Calmly, he said, 'Are you talking about it with Dr Gruen?'

  'Bit by bit. When it comes back to me.' Jacob flashed him a quick smile. 'You want to talk about Ruby Ranger?'

  Decker was happy to change the subject. Did that indicate a weakness on his part as a parent not to probe deeper? Or was he rationalizing it by telling himself that it was best left to the professional? Decker was only human. There was only so much he could absorb at one time. 'What can you tell me about her?'

  'Objectively, she's smart - a computer person. I bet she's an amateur hacker. She's sexy enough to get plenty of guys if you're into that severe Goth look. I could see her talking Ernesto into vandalizing the shul. She'd get off on that. But she'd never get her own hands dirty. That wouldn't be fun for her. Her thing is manipulation, getting you to act out her pathology.' He grinned. 'I sound pretty shrinky, don't I?'

  'You've learned the lingo.'

  'When in Rome...' He looked at Decker. 'If you talk to her, tell her to go to hell for me.'

  'She'll be interviewed but not by me.'

  'Ah!' Jacob smiled. 'Conflict of interest.'

  'Exactly.'

  'I'm sorry to be such a burden to you. Don't worry. I'm out of your hair in a few months. Surely, you can hang with that.'

  'Jacob, you're not in my hair.'

  'Sure, Dad.' He gave him a sour smile. 'Actually, I'm looking forward to Johns Hopkins and getting out on my own. And I'm not going to shoot anyone. Although if I did pop Ruby Ranger, I'd be doing the world a service.'

  'That's not funny, Jacob.'

  'I didn't mean it to be.'

  11

  Installing and painting bookshelves gave Decker much needed downtime, using his body instead of his mind. By two in the morning, the chemical cleaning fumes had become overwhelming, so the shul gang broke for the night. Rina was out as soon as she hit the pillow, but Decker remained fitful, dreaming in dribs and drabs about rebellious boys, his own stepson included. He awoke with a start at five-thirty - it was still dark - and drowned his lethargy with three cups of espresso coffee. At six, he took his prayer shawl and his phylacteries and rushed over to the synagogue to join the men in morning services - an anomaly because usually their small house of worship couldn't round up a quorum. But the events of yesterday motivated the community to try a little harder.

  Right before the services started, half of Yonkie's school -including Yonkie - came in to join them. Some smart kid even had the grace to bring in Danishes and juice as a reward for participation. It was downright homespun and everyone seemed friendlier, more social and a lot more grateful -praying with sincerity... making it count. By eight - after demolishing the snacks - the men started leaving to begin their working day. Rina, along with several other women, came in just as the men were filing out. They were holding pails, scrub brushes, scouring pad and lots of Scotch tape to piece together torn bits of the holy books. Decker helped them unload the cleaning material.

  'I've never seen the place so spotless,' he remarked to his wife.

  'Almost like it never happened,' Rina answered. 'What's with that kid? Why on earth would he do such a terrible thing? I know you can't answer me. I'm just wondering out loud.'

  'Darling, I'm just as confused as you.'

  Rina regarded her husband. 'Poor Peter. You look tired.'

  'I'm fine.' Decker smiled to prove the point. 'How come you look so good? It's not fair.'

  'It's called foundation to hide the dark circles.'

  'Ah.'

&nbs
p; 'Also, you're not wearing your glasses.'

  'I don't need glasses!' Decker insisted. 'Only with medicine bottles. Let's not rush things.'

  Rina grinned. 'Did I tell you I love you this morning?'

  'No, you didn't.'

  She did. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Then she handed him a paper bag. 'I packed you lunch. Please remember to eat it.'

  'That's never been my problem... not eating.'

  She pinched his ribs. 'Yeah, you're right.'

  'Below the belt, kid.'

  'Stop talking that way.' Rina smiled. 'We're in a shul.'

  Decker laughed and hugged her. She felt tense and tight. He said, 'Don't overdo it with all the cleaning, Rina. You're punishing muscles that you're not used to using.'

  She broke away and rubbed her shoulder. 'I'm aware of that.'

  'I'm going to remember that "below the belt" comment,' Decker said. 'Especially tonight.'

  'I sure hope so.'

  Decker laughed again, then gave her a final wave and returned to his car. Before he started the engine, he tried the Goldings' home phone number. When no one picked up, he again left another message. He had almost made it to the precinct's parking lot when impulse overtook reason. He did a safe but illegal U-turn in the middle of the street, backtracking until he hit the Goldings' neighborhood - a ritzy area containing blocks of spacious homes on acre lots. The development had its own

  tennis courts, swimming pools, saunas, Jacuzzis, workout gymnasiums and recreation rooms as well as its own private patrol. As Decker groped around for the specific address, a white-and-blue rent-a-cop slowed his cruiser to check him out. Decker flashed his badge. The private nodded, then parked in the middle of the street and got out. He showed Decker the route to the Golding abode.

  Ernesto lived in a house that was an amorphous blob, resembling a mound of melting chocolate ice cream. It was constructed out of adobe and probably would have looked great in Santa Fe, but since it sat in a lane of traditional Tudor, colonial, and Mediterranean houses, the place looked unfinished. More than unfinished, it looked like a project that someone forgot to start. The front landscaping was an assemblage of rocks and stones, sitting in beds of sand, and drought-resistant plants, mostly varieties of cacti, but there were also ice plants for ground cover and other flowering mint-colored foliage. A couple of stunted pines framed an old, carved door - the front entrance.

  Decker knocked, but didn't expect anything. To his surprise, Carter Golding answered with Jill peeking over his shoulder. Even more surprising, they acted as if they wanted to see him. As a matter of fact, we were just about to call you. He was invited inside.

  The area was sumptuous and airy, utilizing an open floor plan. Furniture and screens were arranged to define rooms with different purposes. The staircase to the upper levels was also free-form and made of brown adobe. The mud-colored walls were textured and lumpy, holding tiny windows that let in large amounts of light. Lots of muted colors, probably because the sofas and chairs were covered with faded and worn upholstery. Nothing was formal or structured, as if every piece of furniture, every knickknack, every painting and wall hanging had been someone's castoffs. Not that the interior looked junky, more like designer funky.

  Jill caught him staring. 'Everything here has been recycled. All

  the upholstery is either the original coverings, or we recovered it with discarded material. The glass windows for instance, all recycled.'

  'All the architectural features came from demolition projects,' Carter explained. 'It's a point of pride with us. Even the wood used for framing up the house was recycled from other estates.'

  'You've certainly held a consistent stance,' Decker said.

  'We do our share,' Jill stated.

  'Probably a fraction of the cost, too,' Decker stated. 'I'm about to redo my kitchen. This is giving me ideas.'

  Jill lit up. 'If you want, I'd be happy to show you around our plant. We get old cabinets all the time. Beautiful cabinets, Detective, made of solid wood. Not the current processed plywood.'

  It sounded very tempting. But not only was it unethical, Decker could just picture how Rina would react, knowing that the cabinets came from the family of a boy who had tattooed the synagogue walls with Hitler should have killed more of you. It had taken Decker a while to convince her to ride in his revamped Porsche.

  Carter was offering his business card. 'The number on the back is my private work number. Feel free to use it.'

  Decker took the card to (a) have the number and (b) be polite.

  'Please sit down,' Jill said. 'Anywhere is fine.'

  Decker decided on a rose-on-the-vine patterned sofa. It was very comfortable. Carter took up an overstuffed chair and looked around the house as if observing it for the first time.

  'My wife has a designer's eye.' Carter's smile was open - a slash of solid white among his gray and brown facial hair. 'She knows how to put stuff together. It's an art.'

  The man was acting all too jocular. Thin and short, he was nearly swallowed up by the chair's ballooned pillows. 'Can I get you anything to drink?'

  'No, I'm fine, Mr Golding.'

  'Call us Jill and Carter,' Jill said. Her elfin face had been freshly scrubbed, leaving her skin clear and shiny. Her long hair

  was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked less stressed and years younger. Both of them wore denim work shirts and jeans. Decker felt stiff in a suit.

  Jill said, 'It is so fortuitous that you dropped by. It's so much easier to talk face-to-face.'

  'I'd be happy to talk.' But Decker's mind was on Ricky Moke and Darrell Holt: if they had anything to do with Ernesto and the vandalism. 'But if it's okay with you, I'd first like to have a few words with Ernesto.'

  'He's not here,' Carter said. 'He's with some relatives. All the hullabaloo has left him zapped. More than that, he needs time and solitude to think about the magnitude of his actions.'

  'Maybe I can stop by... where he is right now.' Decker smiled. 'It would help me out a lot to ask him a few questions.'

  Jill sighed. 'I'm so sorry, Detective, but his lawyer will not permit you to see him without his counsel. But if you'd like to leave a message, we'll relay the words.'

  'I really wanted to see him in person.' Decker sensed he was working with someone cooperative. 'Is there a way you can arrange a quick visit? Maybe you can take me over? I sure don't mind if you stay while I ask him a couple—'

  'No, that won't work,' Carter broke in. 'Not without the lawyer. I hope you understand.'

  Decker nodded. 'I have no objections if Mr Melrose is there.'

  'Everett is on a tight schedule,' Jill stated. 'I'm afraid yesterday took up most of his time. I'll run it by him, though. Maybe he'll have a spare moment.'

  'Would you?' Decker asked.

  'It would be my pleasure,' Jill said.

  But Decker knew she wouldn't do it. 'What about Karl?'

  'What about him?' Jill responded.

  'Perhaps I can talk to him?'

  'Whatever for?' Carter broke in. 'No use dragging him into the mess. We don't believe in guilt by association, sir.'

  'Of course.' Decker was getting nowhere. He stood up. 'Thanks for your time—'

  'Please stay for a moment.' Carter waited a beat, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. 'We have a couple of favors to ask of you.'

  'Me?'

  'Please sit,' Jill requested. 'Are you sure I can't get you something to drink?'

  'No, I'm fine.'

  Jill was still waiting for him to park his butt, so Decker sat back down. Jill followed suit, then beamed at him. 'We have some very good news. We've found a terrific therapist for Ernesto. It took us all night, but we found the perfect people to deal with him.'

  Carter said, 'The vandalism was inexcusable - outrageous and disgusting. Even so, we feel we need to get to the root of the problem, don't you agree?'

  Decker agreed.

  'His behavior definitely shows lack of parental understanding on our part.' Carter
looked down and shook his head. 'You try your best, but sometimes it isn't enough. You need a professional.'