Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman

was loose and blowing in the wind. The boys were racing the horses, yarmulkes flapping as they cantered, profiles burnished by the sinking sun. Ginger was chasing after them, panting and yelping, enjoying the exercise.

      Domestic bliss, except he wasn’t in the picture.

      He went outside.

      “You made it!” Rina kissed his cheek. Her skin smelled of hickory smoke. “Go change. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

      He glanced at the grill—marinated skirt steaks. Rina had also made coleslaw and macaroni salad, and had a couple of bottles of Dos Equis on ice. The patio table had been set for four so at least she’d been expecting him home. “I didn’t know they made maternity aprons.”

      “I must look like a tent.”

      “A beautiful tent. I’ll live inside of you any day of the year.” He hugged her from behind. “How are you feeling?”

      “Fine. I took a nap after you left.”

      “I like that. You should be babying yourself while you can.”

      She turned around and hugged him as best she could. “Are you okay?”

      “Sure.”

      “You seem wound up. You’re walking stiffly.” She reached up and gently squeezed the nape of his neck. “Oh, you’re all tight, Peter.”

      “Occupational hazard.”

      “Want a massage?”

      “Later, thanks.” He picked up a beer bottle, then noticed cans of soda sharing the cooler space. Coke. With caffeine. He shifted his weight, trying to appear casual. “You allowed to drink this stuff while you’re pregnant?”

      “I stay off soft drinks. Bad for the weight. Besides, Coke has caffeine and I don’t drink caffeine. That’s why I don’t drink your coffee in the morning anymore.” She smiled impishly. “Or hadn’t you noticed, Peter?”

      He hadn’t and felt stupid because of it.

      Sammy, the older of the two boys, spied his stepfather from afar and waved. “Hey, Peter, look at me.”

      He began racing his horse at top speed toward the edge of the mountain. Jacob, seeing his brother hogging parental attention, kicked the flanks of his horse and tried to catch up with him.

      Cupping his hands, Decker yelled out, “Good going, boys. Keep it up.” He turned to Rina. “They’re having fun.”

      “You sound envious. Why don’t you join them?”

      Decker hesitated. His arm and shoulder were throbbing. He’d forgotten to take his afternoon dose of analgesics, but wasn’t about to do it in front of Rina. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll keep you company.”

      “Don’t be silly, Peter. Go ahead.”

      “I said it’s okay.”

      “Is your shoulder bother—”

      “My shoulder’s fine, Rina. Just peachy!”

      Rina looked down.

      Swell, he thought. She was hurt. He felt bad for sniping at her, but he was sick of her asking, sick of telling her it was okay when it wasn’t. Why didn’t she stop asking?

      Why didn’t he stop calling his daughter?

      “Cindy phone?”

      “No, she didn’t.”

      “Super.”

      Rina took his hand but didn’t say anything. Cindy was hurting him and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She couldn’t even comfort him. As with his gunshot wound, the topic of his daughter was off limits. “Rabbi Schulman called about an hour ago. He’s expecting you in his study at nine tonight.”

      “I’ll be there.”

      “He also told me that he’d asked another man to join you two. A ba’al tshuvah who’s in a lower shiur—”

      “Someone is actually below me?”

      Rina didn’t answer, hating it when he denigrated himself. His progress in Torah studies was yet another taboo subject. Judaism was a hard religion for a newcomer. Even though Peter had made such marvelous advances, he was still uncomfortable with his newfound faith—nervous about what he didn’t know instead of praising himself for what he did. He was so smart. If only he could just relax and enjoy his God-given brains. “Rav Schulman asked me to ask you if that’s okay. He thought you’d be the perfect role model for the new kid on the block.”

      “Fine.”

      His face was impassive as he rebuffed the compliment. Rina looped her arm around his waist. “You want me to run you a hot bath?”

      “Thanks, darlin’, but I’ll wait until after dinner to bathe.”

      Again, he stared longingly at the boys. Rina knew he was caught between a desire to ride and the pain the activity might inflict.

      Jacob shouted to his stepfather. “Look, Peter.” He took off for the mountain again.

      “I wish they wouldn’t ride so fast,” Rina said.

      “They’re okay.”

      “Maybe you should go out there and supervise them. Why don’t you take White Diamond, Peter? She’s gentle. She shouldn’t jostle you too badly.”

      Between clenched teeth, Decker said, “I told you I’m fine.”

      Rina sighed. “So you did. Rather forcefully, I might add.”

      “Okay.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Maybe my arm hurts a little.” With that admission, he pulled out two Advil tablets and gulped them down with a swig of beer. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes, but right now I’m a tad uncomfortable. You win. I emoted. Are you happy?”

      “I’m still in a state of shock.”

      Decker laughed and threw his left arm around her. “You’re a good sport, know that?”

      “Yes, I know that.”

      “I try.”

      The boys headed up the mountain.

      “You’re going too far!” Rina yelled. “Come back!”

      Ignoring their mother’s pleas, they rode farther on the steep trails.

      “Peter, tell them to stop!”

      “They’re having fun.”

      “It’s getting dark. They’re going to get lost.”

      “They’ll be fine, darlin’. Stop worrying.”

      “I’m not worried, I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”

      “All right,” Decker groused. “I can see you won’t relax until I go after them. I won’t even bother to change my clothes. Will that make you happy, Rina?”

      “If your arm—” She stopped herself. “Yes, that will make me happy, Peter.”

      “Swell.” He planted a kiss on her forehead and muttered as he walked away. But inside he was thrilled that she’d given him an excuse to saddle up. And no White Diamond for Cowboy Pete. The hell with the pain, he was going for Cobra, the biggest damn stallion in the stable. Up on the mount—man, he was king. But damned if he’d tell Rina how he felt. He’d emoted enough for one day.

      8

      What better way to start the day than with a bowl of wheat flakes and twenty-five files of registered sex offenders. As Decker scanned the rap sheets, Rina poured him a glass of orange juice. She glanced down at the table. A scowling mug shot met her