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

the kitchen. She took the coffee from the refrigerator and poured water into the glass carafe. Sensing another body behind her, she knew Lilah had followed her in.

      “Does he get angry like that all the time?”

      Rina poured the water into the coffeemaker. “Why don’t you sit at the kitchen table.”

      “I’m very sorry,” Lilah whispered. “It’s just …” She sat down at the kitchen table. “Black coffee’s fine. I’m sorry.”

      Rina suddenly remembered what had happened to her and softened her attitude. “It’s okay. I’m very sorry about yesterday. I’m glad you’re all right.”

      “I wouldn’t have been if your husband hadn’t been there.”

      Rina nodded.

      “He’s a marvelous rider.”

      “Yes, he is.” Rina answered.

      “I wouldn’t mind riding with him again.” Lilah brought her fingers to her lips. “I mean …” Lilah laughed. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Please forgive me.”

      “Don’t worry about it. Coffee’ll be ready in a moment.”

      “Thank you.”

      Rina noticed Lilah’s voice had turned low and sexy. Against the still of the night, it was as beckoning as an aromatic whiff from the kitchen.

      “I didn’t just come to wake Peter up,” Lilah said. “I really do need to talk to him. Normally, I handle stress very well, but …” Her eyes became wet. “But how much …”

      She was leaking tears, but it seemed to Rina that she had a smile on her face.

      “How much can one person take?” Rina said.

      “Exactly!” Lilah wiped her eyes.

      Rina picked up the carafe and said, “I made decaf. Just in case anyone’s contemplating sleep.”

      Lilah looked up, her eyes squinting. “You’re pregnant!”

      Rina nodded and poured two cups of coffee. The telephone rang. Peter got to the line before she did. Lilah looked at the mug in front of her.

      “Is this water-processed decaf?”

      “Yes.”

      Lilah sipped, her eyes suddenly hardening. “So, is it your first—no, it can’t be if you asked Peter to check on the boys. How many kids do you have anyway?” Again she squinted. “You’re much younger than he is. How old are you?”

      “Excuse me for a moment,” Rina said.

      She walked into the bedroom as Peter was walking out.

      “I’m really sorry about this,” he whispered.

      “Boys are okay?”

      “Yeah, they’re waiting for you to kiss them good night. Rina, I’m sorry—”

      “Don’t worry about it, Peter. She’s calmer now. Claims she needs to talk to you. Let her get it off her chest, then get her out of here.” She paused. “Don’t be too harsh. She’s gone through a lot.”

      Decker thought about what Lilah had gone through. Could be her extreme rage was a delayed reaction from the rape. She was angry at men and taking it out on him. If that was the case, she had the worst case of transference he’d ever seen. But Lilah didn’t seem to act in moderation. Or it could be the woman was bonkers before and the rape drove her over the edge. Whatever the reason, no way was he going to let this broad take it out on Rina.

      “You’re wonderful, Rina. The best!”

      She shook her head knowingly. “This is true.”

      “I’ve called Marge,” Decker said. “I’ve also called Lilah’s brother. He’s coming down and picking her up.” He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Kiss the boys and go back to sleep.”

      “Go back to sleep?” Rina laughed.

      “Well, rest, okay?”

      Rina smiled, noticing that Peter had dressed. She held him by the arms and looked over his attire—a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a work shirt, and sneakers. Comfortable but not the least bit provocative. She approved.

      20

      Storming through the door, Frederick Brecht was dressed in a raw-silk caftan, stone-washed black jeans, and raw-silk jacket. He wore Nike high-tops, the cuffs of his pants tucked under the oversized tongues of his shoes. His blue eyes were watery and red, his scalp and the skin around his beard pink and mottled. He’d slapped on some grassy-smelling cologne. Too much because he was in a hurry, Decker thought. Brecht’s face was knotted with anger as he faced his sister. “Are you crazy?”

      Lilah looked at Decker. “This was precisely the reason why I can’t recup—”

      “Are you out of your mind, Lilah? Waking him up at three in the morning?” Brecht was enraged. “For God’s sake, why didn’t you call me!?”

      “Freddy is so jealous,” Lilah said.

      “Dear God, it has nothing to do with jealousy! It has to do with common sense—”

      “For your information, I tried calling you, Freddy. You weren’t home.”

      “I can be reached!” Brecht was screaming now. He pointed to Decker. “He reached me!”

      Marge wiped a speck of dirt off her slacks. “Look, I don’t have kids, I’m not used to three o’clock feedings. Can we get this show on the road?”

      “Why did you call her down?” Lilah suddenly demanded of Decker.

      “You have something to report, Miss Brecht, ask for Detective Dunn. She’s your new primary detective.”

      “What! You just can’t drop me!”

      “No one dropped you,” Marge said evenly.

      “He can’t leave me in the lurch!”

      “Detective Dunn is one of the most specialized people we have on the force—”

      “I can’t believe you’re deserting me!”

      “No one is deserting anyone,” Marge said. “If you need my services, I’ll be right there—”

      “I don’t want you, I want him!” Lilah pointed to Decker. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Detective. I’m just used to Peter.”

      “Peter?” Brecht said. “You’re on first-name basis with the police?”

      “Frederick, stop acting so infantile.”

      “You’re acting infantile interrupting this poor man’s sleep.” Brecht turned to Decker. “I’m sorry about this—”

      “Stop apologizing for me as if I were your child!”

      “Sometimes you act like a child!”

      “If you’d stop treating me like a child—”

      “Miss Brecht,” Decker said, “is there something specific you wanted to talk to me about?”

      Marge smiled at Pete’s style. Just lay it on the line.

      Lilah bit her knuckle. “It’s about my brother.”

      “Me?” Brecht gasped.

      “No, King.”

      “Kingston?” Brecht turned bright red. “What do you want with Kingston?”

      “Freddy, you are so tiresome!”

      “What does that jerk want?” Brecht whined. “I know he’s up to something