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  “If you don’t want a dog, Peter, we won’t get a dog,” Rina said.

  Decker didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Okay, Rina. What kind of a dog?”

  “I thought we decided that if we’d ever get a dog, we’d get a Bouvier. It’s nonallergenic for one thing. It’s also a great guard dog and great for walking trails.”

  “What about the grandchildren? You really think Rachel will be okay with bringing Lily up to visit when we have a huge dog?”

  “They’re not huge and are known for their intelligence. Besides, we mostly go visit them.”

  “And the few times they come up here like on Thanksgiving?”

  “I’ll take the dog,” McAdams said.

  “You live in Boston.”

  “So send the dog up with Uber. Just give me a few days’ notice.”

  “Last year you came down here for Thanksgiving,” Decker reminded him.

  “Peter, if you don’t want a dog, I understand,” Rina said. “There are two people in this marriage. I get it. But please stop manufacturing problems.”

  “Fine.” Decker made a big show of sighing. “We’ll get a dog. But it’ll be your dog. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Her. I want a girl dog.” Rina turned to McAdams. “We had a dog when we first got married. An Irish setter named Ginger. Dumb as a brick, but we loved her. It knocked him out for six months after she died.”

  “Basket case,” Decker admitted. “I cried like a baby. I can’t go through that again.”

  “He’s a sensitive soul deep down.” Rina patted his back. “What can I say, darling. Love hurts.”

  Two hours and twenty-six minutes later, Decker pulled the car into the driveway. McAdams sat in the car, waiting to be dropped off at the station house while Rina dashed into the house, turned on the oven, and put a frozen cooked chicken sitting on a bed of frozen rice pilaf into the heat. She’d make a salad later. As Decker walked in, Rina said, “Can you turn on the lights in the living room while I set up candles?”

  “Sure. I’ll also turn down the bed.”

  “You’re a doll.” Rina adjusted the temperature so the oven was on low. It would take at least an hour to thaw everything out, but she wasn’t in a hurry. She took out two frozen challahs. Thank God for modern refrigeration. Out loud she said, “I’ll wait to eat until you come back.”

  Decker came out of the bedroom and looked at his watch. “I’ll do a turnaround as soon as I can. They don’t need me for the dig, but I’d like to stick around and see if we get a match with Delilah Occum or Yvette Jones. I’ll want to give the parents updates as soon as I get them.”

  “Of course.” She kissed his cheek. “Hurry home.”

  “I’ll probably have McAdams with me.”

  “What else is new? There’s plenty of food once it’s defrosted.”

  “I’ll direct him elsewhere if you want to be alone.”

  “It’s okay, Peter. I know you two will have a lot to discuss.”

  “I don’t have to burden you with that.”

  “It’s no burden; I’m actually interested. I was the one who found the first grave, remember?” She checked her watch. “Go. See you later.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t mind having Tyler?”

  “Not at all. He’s like a grandchild. A lot of fun, a lot of work, and you can send him home at the end of the day.”

  At ten, the pair arrived at the house and they, along with Rina, ate a hot but rather joyless Shabbat dinner. The meal was short and everyone retired early, including Tyler who chose to sleep over rather than take the extra five minutes needed to drive to his apartment and sleep in his own bed. He went home the next morning when Decker and Rina went to synagogue, but he was back again at one for lunch. He wore a brown polo under a light tan sweater and black cords with loafers on his feet. The mornings were beginning to cool down but still lacked the nip of fall.

  “I don’t have anything to eat in my fridge. I’m clearing out food because I’m leaving in a week. Besides, I thought the boss might need me.”

  “Need you for what?” Decker was sitting on the couch, reading the morning newspaper, his rimless reading glasses perched midway on his nose. He looked up. “Is there something new going on?”

  “Nothing new at Bogat, if that’s what you’re asking. I made you a copy of the list.”

  “What list?”

  “Sex offenders in the area?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Anything?”

  “Nothing that smacks me in the face. I’ll go over it again more carefully.”

  “I’ll get someone to help you.” Decker went back to his newspaper. He had changed from a jacket and slacks to sweats and had slippers on his feet.

  Rina served a plate of nuts and dried fruit. “Have a nosh. I’ll be back in a jif.”

  “What’s for lunch?” McAdams asked.

  “We’re having dairy. Lox, smoked trout, whitefish, cream cheese and bagels, deviled eggs and fruit salad. As a matter of fact, Tyler, while I change, you can cut up tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions and organize everything on a servable plate.”

  “Why him and not me?” Decker asked.

  “Because he knows my kitchen better than you do.”

  Decker looked up. “Was I just maligned?”

  “No, dear.” Rina patted his shoulder. “Just saving you some KP.”

  Decker threw his head back and sighed.

  Rina said, “Was that a tired sigh or a discouraged sigh?”

  “Sometimes they’re one and the same.” He smiled. “Just been having a few long days after a very quiet summer. Go get comfortable.”

  By the time she came back down, the entire table had been set. Rina had on a loose denim jumper that fell midcalf over a white long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was tucked into a white beret. Decker made the blessing over the wine, and then they ritually washed their hands and broke bread. Rina passed around the fish plate. “I love this kind of stuff. Although my parents were Hungarian, my mother’s family was originally Russian stock.”

  “Actually the Ukraine if you want to be specific,” Decker said. “Although the way Putin is going, that is Russia.”

  “Odessa,” Rina said. “You tell Russians that you’re originally from Odessa and they say, oh, you must be Jewish. I heard it’s a lovely beach city.”

  “Don’t know,” McAdams said. “Never been there. But I do like caviar.”

  “Which reminds me,” Rina got up and brought back a small jar of salmon roe. “It’s even got kosher certification. I like it on my deviled eggs.”

  “Lay it on me, girl,” Tyler said.

  Decker had already finished half of his lox sandwich when the phone rang. All three of them looked up. McAdams stood. “I’ll get it.”

  Radar’s voice came over the speakerphone. “We’ve got a match for the second set of bones. Yvette Jones.”

  “It’s Tyler, Captain. Do you want us to come down to the dig site?”

  “No need. We’re in the process of cleaning the skull of body number three.”

  “Do you know if it’s male or female?” Decker said out loud.

  “Small skull. Probably female. We’ll know better once we send it all to be X-rayed.”

  Decker said, “I’ll notify the Joneses. I don’t think Mrs. Jones will be surprised, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be okay with it. I’ll tell her we’re officially working on the case again.”

  “Sure,” Radar said. “What’s the link here, Pete? The school? The other missing people? Did she and Pettigrew know each other?”

  “All good questions. Tyler has a list of local sex offenders who have registered.”

  “And?”

  “Just did a preliminary check. Some are still here, others are gone. No one matched for murder. Were you here in Greenbury, Mike, when Yvette initially went missing?”

  “I came about six months after. I was here when Occum went missing. I never heard about Pettigrew, which makes sense because no one knew h
e disappeared in Greenbury. Don’t be nervous if you step on some toes.”

  “I’ll try to be nice about it. Just let me know if you discover any new graves.”

  “We’re still digging around with the dog. Anyone else missing from around here?”

  “No one from the Five Colleges.”

  McAdams broke in and told him about the local cashier at the gas station mart—Erin Young. “As far as we could tell, she had nothing to do with Pettigrew or the colleges.”

  “A one-off?” Radar asked.

  “A one-off of what?” Decker asked.

  “I suppose that’s the question on all our minds.” Radar hung up.

  “The captain certainly isn’t proprietary.” McAdams sat back down and took a deviled egg.

  Decker said, “After lunch, could you pull everything we have on Yvette Jones and bring it from the station to my house?”

  “Sure. I might as well pull Delilah Occum and Erin Young while I’m at it.” McAdams helped himself to a generous dollop of salmon roe. “You still have the Pettigrew files, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Find anything?”

  “I read them, but I didn’t know what I was looking for. I still don’t. But with Jones being identified, we can see if the two of them had anything in common.”

  “Besides being troublemakers.”

  “They were troublemakers?” Rina asked.

  “Yvette’s mother described her as confused,” McAdams said. “She was constantly trying out different identities.”

  “Who isn’t confused at that age? Even kids who look like they have it together are often searching for something.”

  “Maybe that’s what Pettigrew and Yvette had in common,” McAdams said. “They were both searching for something with the wrong people.”

  “What would constitute the wrong crowd at the colleges?” Rina said. “Everyone is experimenting with different identities. Almost all have been passed-out drunk at one time or another. Probably a large percentage light up as well. Risky behavior is more accepted than being well behaved.”

  “Which brings up a point,” Decker said. “You get into all sorts of problems when you’re drunk or loaded. Did these students have a rep for regularly taking drugs or drinking?”

  McAdams said, “According to Pettigrew’s doctor, Lawrence had a very alternative lifestyle.”

  “He didn’t exactly say that,” Decker said. “But let’s find out if the three of them had things in common, including bad habits. We need to concentrate on friends, faculty, fields of study, college clubs, favorite bars and restaurants, athletic teams . . . anything that would put them in contact with one another.” Decker gave out another large sigh. “I’ve got to make a notification call to Yvette’s parents. I’ll do it in the library.”

  “Are you done eating?” Rina asked.

  “Save my sandwich in the fridge. I’m sure I’ll want it later.”

  “Will you be in the mood for dessert?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” He left the table.

  McAdams said, “Greenbury is utter boredom all summer and then we’re digging up bodies faster than we can process them.”

  “It’s scary, Tyler. Whoever put the bodies near Bogat stopped burying people when the hiking trail went in. But that doesn’t mean the killer stopped killing.”

  “There’s another graveyard somewhere?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Yes, it is. I’d look except I have to leave for Boston. God, that pisses me off.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be needed for input even when you’re back up north.”

  “Nice of you to say.”

  “On a more mundane subject, I have some pecan bars that you made a while back. I also have some chocolate chip cookies. They’re probably defrosted by now.”

  “You know coffee goes real good with pecan bars and chocolate chip cookies.”

  “It’s Shabbos, Tyler. I can’t make coffee.”

  “But there’s nothing stopping me from picking up a to-go container from one of the local shops.”

  “It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll stop by the station house and pick up the files. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  Decker came out ten minutes later, his hair disheveled. Whenever he talked on the phone about something upsetting, he mussed his hair. “Where’s the kid?”

  “He went to pick up the files and a to-go container of coffee.”

  “You asked him for coffee?”

  “I didn’t ask him for anything. He just said he’s picking up coffee. We’ll wait until he gets back for dessert.”

  “What’s for dessert?”

  “Pecan bars and chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Coffee does go well with that.”

  “For the more diet conscious, I also have some grapes.”

  “I think I could use a shot of sugar.” Decker checked his watch. “When’s he coming back?”

  “He said about an hour.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?”

  Rina smiled, “If you have to ask, I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Just trying to be a sensitive guy.”

  “Don’t bother.” Rina took his hand. “Sensitivity is for chumps.”

  Along with the coffee, McAdams brought in several loads of boxes, which he plopped on the dining room table. Rina brought out paper coffee cups and a plate of the cookies and pecan bars. Decker passed out a stack of Post-its. To Rina, he said, “Would you mind reading Pettigrew’s file? I’ll take Occum, and McAdams will take Jones.”

  “Happy to help. What do you want me to sticker?”

  “Sticker names and anything else that catches your interest. When we’re all done, we’ll make a list and McAdams will write them down.”

  They worked in silence for hours until the sun set and the stars began to peek out of a twilight sky. When it was dark, Rina got up and prepared for Havdalah, taking out a beeswax braided candle, a container of spices, and a cup of wine, things necessary for the ritual blessing that ended Shabbat and welcomed the new week. Traditionally the words in the prayer delineated the sacred from the profane, but in this case, the entire afternoon had been devoted to profound depravity. Nonetheless, the blessing was made, and then the three of them went back to reading and marking the files.

  Usually Decker put off any kind of unnecessary work until Shabbat was over. But until the murderer was known and behind bars, every second that passed presented an opportunity to kill. And with all the activity going on in Bogat Trail, if the murderer was still around, he had to know it was only a matter of time before the police would start full-scale hunting.

  They were already at a disadvantage. The devil never slept. That gave Satan a seven-hour head start each and every day.

  Chapter 15

  By ten o’clock that evening, they had multiple lists: people who showed up in just one file, names appearing in two out of the three files, and individuals who intersected all three, consisting of town employees, college professors, and college administrators who were around from Jones to Occum—a four-year span.

  It was harder to weave Erin Young into the mix. She disappeared between Pettigrew and Occum and she didn’t seem to have much in common with the students. It was plausible that all four had shopped at the same markets and frequented the same cafés or restaurants. But since Decker couldn’t find anything definitive, he put her file aside until he could figure out a way for her to fit in.

  “We’ll work the cases individually as well as together,” Decker told McAdams. “I know you have school in a week. Unless something falls in our laps, we’re not going to solve anything by then. Do what you can and I’ll give your files to Kevin or Ben.”

  “Sure. Where do you want to start?”

  “We’ll start by interviewing the names that intersect all three victims. Delilah Occum is the most recent gone girl. There may be some people in Clarion who remember her and her disappearance.”

  “But
we don’t know if she’s part of the bone yard,” McAdams said. “Don’t you want to wait until the remains are identified?”

  “Even if she isn’t there, I promised her family I’d take a look at the case. I need to talk to Ben Roiters, who was the original investigator on the case. Then I want to talk to the boyfriend, Cameron Snowe. The mother didn’t like him.”

  “Do parents ever like boyfriends?” Rina asked.

  “Probably not. But boyfriends with missing girlfriends are especially interesting. Tyler, find out if Snowe is still in school, and if he is, set up an appointment with him for tomorrow.”

  “Which college did he attend?”

  “Morse McKinley. Did you call Delilah’s best friend, Emily Crowler?”

  “You said to have Karen do it.”

  “Yeah, I did say that. I’ll call Karen, then.” He turned to his wife. “Rina, could you do me a favor? It’s busywork.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Make some calls. Find out how many of those intersected names are still associated with the college and who has moved out of town. It would give Tyler and me a starting point.”

  “I can tell you right now that Hank Carter made the Pettigrew list. Lawrence took one of his classes. And we know Yvette Jones was last seen attending one of his lectures. He’s still in town.”

  “Yvette also took one of Carter’s classes,” McAdams said.

  “He made Occum’s list as well. He’s definitely worth checking out.” Decker stood up from the dining room table. “I’m going to give Ben Roiters a call and let him know what I’m doing. See if he can fill in some of my blanks since Occum was his case to begin with. Geez. Three dead bodies and counting.”

  “Peter, if you need me, I’m here,” McAdams said. “I can always take a leave of absence.”

  “Not necessary, but thanks for the offer.”

  “It’s no biggie. People go in and out of law school all the time.”

  “Taking a leave of absence from law school would make your dad very unhappy.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s what makes the idea all the more appealing.”

  The station house had ceased running the air-conditioning since the first of September, a cost-cutting measure. That meant that the interview room the next day was warm bordering on uncomfortable. Okay for Decker as he watched Cameron Snowe squirm on the other side of the one-way mirror. The space was taken up by four chairs and a table with a pitcher of water and paper cups. The kid was over six feet, high waisted with long legs and good-size shoulders. He had sandy hair and amber eyes and a strong chin. Tan complexioned, he resembled a lion. He wore a gray T-shirt over loose jeans and high-tops. It was Sunday afternoon at one p.m.