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

I’m angry! And you should be, too. You certainly have nothing to feel overjoyed about.”

      “I don’t know about that.” Decker paused. “Rina, I think you’re the most beautiful woman on this planet—”

      “I’m as fat as a cow.”

      “You’re not fat, you’re pregnant—”

      “Oh spare me.”

      “I can tell the difference and so can everyone else. Darlin’, I see teenagers eye you hungrily. Like you’re my … my unwedded daughter who got herself into trouble. Man, those horny little bugs would just love to catch a piece of that trouble. As far as the guys my age, that’s not even worth talking about. The whole squad room gets sweaty palms whenever you walk in.”

      “That’s simply ridiculous.”

      “Except for Marge and Kate. You don’t have any effect on them. Ellen I’m not so sure.”

      “Peter, you’re talking nonsense.”

      “Rina, all I’m saying is that after being with you for two and a half years, always feeling like we’re Beauty and the Beast, it’s nice to see how much you like me.”

      Rina took his hand. “Somehow, I suspect I’m being manipulated.”

      Decker laughed.

      “You told Lilah not to call here?”

      “Yep. Matter of fact, I told her if she wasn’t comfortable with that, I’d be happy to assign her to another detective.”

      “You told her that?”

      “Yep.”

      “What’d she say?”

      “She hung up on me.”

      Rina smiled. “She did?”

      “Yep.”

      “Well …” She patted his hand. “I know how you feel about your unsolved cases, Peter. You can call her back and make nice.”

      “Nah, it’s fine. She wanted to tell me something in person. I’m supposed to meet her at her ranch at eleven. I’ll show up and see what kind of reception I get. If she acts inappropriate, I’ll pass her to Marge.”

      “You’re going out to her ranch? To her home?”

      “Yes, Rina, I am.”

      “Fine.” She withdrew her hand. “I won’t tell you how to do your job.”

      “Thank you.”

      Rina checked her watch. “You’d better get going if you’re going to take the boys to school.”

      “We’re friends again?”

      “I’ll think about it.” Rina leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Course we’re friends. Go.”

      “Should I come home for lunch?”

      “If it’s late—around one, one-thirty.”

      “Not a problem, my dear.” Decker stood. “Are you going to be home this morning?”

      “No. The school called and asked if I’d sub-teach the seventh-grade girls. Why?”

      “It’s not urgent. But whenever you get a chance, call up the phone company and get our number changed.”

      “Just in case?”

      “Just in case.”

      14

      Still wearing his full-length white coat from morning rounds, Kingston Merritt checked in with his girls at the front office.

      No messages from the bitch. God, how he hated that woman. Hated her and loved her at the same time. Why? Merritt wondered. Why did she have that kind of power over him? She neglected him as a young child, criticized him mercilessly the few times she was around. She was cruel and heartless. Except … except on those rare occasions when she showed her other side—the fun-loving woman with a laugh as light as a summer’s breeze. Taking him to the circus, squeezing his hand, introducing him to the lion tamer after the show was over. He had felt so special …

      But this was the final straw. She could just go to hell. No doubt, it was her fault Lilah was hurt. It was her fault that Lilah was estranged from him in the first place.

      He smiled at his ladies, made chitchat as one of them brought him coffee, another brought the day’s appointments. A heavy load—forty names, roughly two-thirds routine pelvics. There was a star after Mrs. Lewis’s name—the cervical carcinoma in situ picked up on a routine Pap. She’d require extra consultation time. He’d check her into the hospital tonight, do the surgery at seven tomorrow after his six A.M. D and C. Mrs. Arlin was in for her three-month fibroid check, as was Mrs. Bennington. Three six-week postpartum checks. The rest were OB cases, five of those evals for termination. One of the candidates was already five months gravid. A termination in the second trimester, much more difficult because of the advanced development of the fetus. It was good she’d come to him.

      He stuffed the schedule into his coat pocket and took the coffee into the privacy of his office. A large picture window afforded him a view of the Palos Verdes peninsula, the steely ocean a reflection of the overcast sky. He sat at his desk, extracted a bottle of bourbon from a locked drawer, and laced his drink with a single shot. Then he sat back in his chair and sipped his morning brew. The cup was half empty when his private line rang. He waited a beat, then picked it up.

      “Hello, Mother. Nice of you to return my twenty calls.”

      “Where the hell were you yesterday?”

      “Where the hell was I? Where the hell were you?”

      “Talking to the police—”

      “What happened to Lilah, Mother? I tried to see her yesterday, but she had already checked out of the hospital.”

      “How’d you find out about Lilah?”

      “I met up with a detective at the spa—”

      “You were at the spa?”

      “Yes, I was … or didn’t Frederick tell you.”

      There was a long pause over the line.

      Merritt said, “I suppose Frederick didn’t tell you.”

      Davida said, “I suppose Frederick and I are due for a little chat.”

      “Mother, the detective told me Lilah had been attacked. Tell me what happened.”

      “Funny, I was going to ask you that very question.”

      Feeling his face go hot, Merritt slammed down the receiver. A couple of beats later the private line rang again. He picked up the handpiece.

      “That was a repulsive, vile insinuation, Mother.”

      “Kingston, I wasn’t trying to be nasty. We’re on the same side, for God’s sake! I only meant that maybe you know what happened because you talked to the police.”

      “I don’t know a thing because I left to see Lilah. And she was gone. So why don’t you tell me what happened. Was Lilah attacked?”

      There was a long pause. Merritt heard the drumming of fingers over the line.

      “I’ve got a busy schedule, Mother. Is that true or not?”

      “I think so.”

      “You think?”

      “Well, Lilah is prone to fits of fantasy—”

      “The detective told me she’d been beaten, for God’s sake! How could she fantasize about that?”

      “She had a few bruises. Nothing serious.”

      “I