Faye Kellerman

Milk and Honey


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      “Sure,” Marge said. “Want some help canvassing the area?”

      “You’ve read my mind.” Decker reached for his cigarettes, then retracted his hand. “What time is it now? Eight?”

      “Quarter to.”

      “I’d like to pull another hour of sleep before we begin talking to the good folk, if you don’t mind.”

      “Go ahead. Maybe the situation will resolve itself with a frantic phone call.”

      “I sure as hell hope so. But I’m not overly optimistic.”

      “Want me to punch her description into the computer?” Marge asked.

      “That’s a little premature,” Decker said. “Go ahead and snap Polaroids of her for ID purposes. And if you get a chance, print her feet, also. Maybe they will match some hospital newborn file.”

      “Want me to call IDC?”

      Decker frowned. “Yeah, I guess someone should. If no one claims her, we’re going to have to take her somewhere.”

      “I’ll call up Richard Lui at MacClaren Hall. He’s a nice guy with primo connections to the good foster homes. Did I ever tell you I went out with him?”

      “Was this before or after Carroll?”

      “After Carroll, before Kevin. We didn’t last too long, but we had enough of a good time that he still does favors for me.”

      “Well, use the clout, woman. Ask him to call Sophi Rawlings. She’s a great lady and happens to be in the area. I think she’s licensed to handle them this young. If you make yourself unusually charming, maybe we can circumvent MacClaren altogether and take her to Sophi’s directly.”

      “No problem. Richard is wild about me.” Marge smiled at the little girl and said, “Let’s get you some grub, honey.”

      “Honey!” the child shouted.

      Marge laughed. “You’re a honey.”

      “Honey!” the toddler echoed.

      Decker waited until Marge and the kid were gone then sank into his bunk. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips. He dreamed of Rina—lost, lovely days that he hoped to recapture very soon.

      3

      Sweet dreams so real, yet like spun sugar, a touch and everything dissolves. The blast of incandescent light. Marge’s voice.

      “Wake up, Pete.”

      “I’m up,” he grunted.

      “Are you up as in paying attention?”

      “What time is it?”

      “Ten.”

      “Ten?” Decker sat up, almost hit his head on the top bunk. He rubbed his eyes. “Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

      “Mike and I just came back from a two thirty-four.”

      “Need me for anything?”

      “Nah,” Marge said. “The woman’s stable. Date rape. Happened last night. She finally got the courage to make the call this morning. Got a shitload of physical evidence—the girl was slapped around. Mike’s filing for the warrant right now.”

      Decker yawned. “What’s with the kid?”

      “No one called to claim her. She’s with Lucinda Alvarez right now. I just got off the phone with Richard Lui. He said if we fill out the necessary forms ASAP and bring them over to him, we can take the kid directly to Sophi Rawlings and bypass MacClaren. If no one claims her in seventy-two hours, Richard’ll set up an arraignment in Dependency Court.”

      “Great,” Decker said. “If you fill out the forms, I’ll take her to Sophi’s.”

      “Fine.”

      “Still want to do a door-to-door with me afterward?”

      “Why not? I’ve got nothing pressing until two in the afternoon.” She started to walk away, then stopped. “Oh. Rina called. She said she’s not working today. Asked for you to call her back when you get a chance.”

      “Thanks.”

      Marge took another step, then added, “Jan called, too.”

      Decker said, “What the hell did she want?”

      “I didn’t ask, Peter.”

      As soon as he was alone, Decker dialed the New York number. The line was full of static. Rina picked it up on the third ring.

      “Hello there,” Decker said.

      “I was hoping it was you,” Rina answered.

      “Well, it’s me,” Decker answered. Her voice gave him a chill down his spine. He said, “Are you feeling all right?”

      “Fine. Why do you ask?”

      “You’re not at work.”

      “Yes, I guess I’m not.”

      There was a pause.

      “What’s wrong, Rina?” Decker asked.

      “I can’t go into it over the phone. It’ll take up too much of your time. You are calling from the station, aren’t you?”

      “Yeah.”

      “I can tell. Their phone system is very poor. I love you, Peter.”

      “I love you, too,” Decker said. “Are you still thinking about coming out here?”

      “How does Wednesday sound?”

      Decker grinned. “It sounds terrific. I promise to keep my hands in my pockets when we’re in public.”

      Silence on the other end.

      Decker said, “Rina, doll, what is it?”

      “Do you have time, Peter?”

      Decker sighed. “Not a lot right now, unfortunately. How about if I call you back in a couple of hours?”

      “Don’t bother. It’s nothing earth-shattering. We’ll talk about it on Wednesday. I’m coming out by myself, leaving the boys here with their grandparents … I need some time alone … to talk to you.”

      “I feel terrible cutting you off like this,” Decker said.

      “No,” Rina said, “I’m cutting you off. Just have an open ear for me on Wednesday, okay?”

      “Sooner,” Decker said. “I’ll call you tonight and we’ll swap tales of woe.”

      Rina paused. “That will be difficult with the boys home.”

      “Why? Are the kids giving you a hard time?”

      “Oh no. Not at all. It’s just that … forget it. We’ll talk about it when I come out. Are you okay?”

      “I’m fine,” Decker said. “Maybe a little sleep-deprived. Maybe a little hungry … a little horn—”

      “I get the picture,” Rina said. “Your drives need an overhauling. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything on the phone.”

      “Promise you’ll make it up to me on Wednesday.”

      “It’s a deal.”

      “I love you, Rina.”

      “Love you, too.”

      She hung up.

      Decker wondered for a moment what could be bothering her. Whatever had happened took place around a week ago. Since then, Rina had become withdrawn, almost melancholy.

      Sudden homesickness?

      Decker