Authors: Faye Kellerman
Stone Kiss
Ritual Bath
Sacred and Profane
The Quality of Mercy
Milk and Honey
Day of Atonement
False Prophet
Grievous Sin
Sanctuary
Justice
Prayers for the Dead
Serpent’s Tooth
Moon Music
Jupiter’s Bones
Stalker
The Forgotten
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2002 by Faye Kellerman
All rights reserved.
Warner Books, Inc.
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
First eBook Edition: March 2010
ISBN: 978-0-7595-2810-9
Contents
For Jonathan—
thirty fabulous years with the guy, his cars, and lots of guitars.
For Jesse, Rachel, Ilana, and Aliza—
from kids to wise adults, thanks for all the excitement
along the way.
And for Barney Karpfinger—
for eighteen years of service par excellence and invaluable
friendship. What a great ride it has been!
D
ear Readers and Fellow Users
,
I am very pleased to be part of eBooks and the twenty-first century. For many years, I resisted being part of the web, happily
pounding out my books on an old IBM double drive DOS system computer. I still have it somewhere and I’m sure it works just
fine. In the changeable world of electronics, it is now considered an antique. The thing was an absolute workhorse and refused
to die. I finally had to give it up when the year 2000 came rolling along. I was afraid of Y2K problems.
Remember that phrase? Y2K?
Anyway, my newest computer is fast, efficient, is hooked up to DSL and has lots of fancy features. Unfortunately, it doesn’t
help me write any better. There is no substitute for time and care and hard work. I’ve written books with paper and pencil,
I’ve written books on the latest of equipment. What determines the quality of the manuscript has nothing to do with gadgets,
but everything to do with creativity, perseverance, dedication, long hours and a little serendipitous luck. It has to do with
caring about my characters and trying to write a suspenseful, multilayered plot.
STONE KISS was inspired by a desire to change the locale for my series detective and by my love of New York. I’ve visited
the city many times and on each occasion I’ve come away with ideas and
inspiration. And how can you not, with the multitude of people living in such tight quarters? This is my second book with
Decker in New York and it worked so well the first time, I thought… well, why not?
One of the most enjoyable things about writing a series is the ability to bring back terrific characters from the past. In
STONE KISS, we meet up once again with Decker’s “secret” half-brother Jonathan Levine. The book contrasts two very different
families, one that works cohesively under stress and another that falls apart during the crisis. It is a book of lost opportunities
as well as a suspenseful cat-and-mouse between Decker and an old adversary, also brought back from a past novel.
I hope you enjoy STONE KISS. If I have succeeded in entertaining you, let me know. If I haven’t, I’m sure you’ll let me know
about that, as well.
Take care and enjoy the ride.
That’s all, folks.
I
t was the stunned,
pale look of bad news. Decker immediately thought of his parents, both in their mid-eighties, and though their health wasn’t
failing, they had had some problems over the past year. Right away, Rina had the good sense to tell him that the family was
fine.
Decker was holding his daughter’s hand. Looking down at the little girl, he said, “Hannah Rosie, let me fix you up with some
videos and a snack. I think Eema needs to talk to me.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. I can do it myself. Eema taught me how to use the microwave.”
“Nine years old and ready for college.”
“No, Daddy, but I can use a VCR and a microwave.” She turned to her mother. “I got an A on a spelling test. I didn’t even
study.”
“That’s wonderful. Not that you didn’t study, but that you got an A.” Rina kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I’ll be with you
in a minute.”
“Whatever…” Hannah left, rolling her wheeled backpack into the kitchen.
“You should sit.” Decker regarded his wife. “You’re colorless.”
“I’m all right.” But she sank down into the couch, hugging a blue-and-white-checked throw pillow like a life preserver. Her
cerulean eyes skittered around the living room, first landing on the lamp, then bouncing off Decker’s special leather chair,
onto the white wicker rocker. Anywhere but on his face.
“My parents are fine?” he asked specifically.
“Perfect,” Rina reiterated. “Jonathan called—”
“Oh God!
His
mother?”
“No, she’s fine.”
Jonathan’s mother was Frieda Levine. She was also Decker’s biological mother, making Jon his half brother. Ten years ago,
by accident rather than by design, Decker had met up with his maternal family, which included five half siblings. Ties had
been forged: more than mere acknowledgments, but less than time-tested relationships. Decker still considered his only parents
to be the two people who had adopted him in infancy. “Then what’s going on?”
They both heard the microwave beep. A moment later, Hannah came out, juggling a pizza bagel on a plate, a big glass of milk,
and her backpack. Decker said, “Let me help you with that, sweetie.”
Wordlessly, she handed her father the food and her schoolbag, skipping off to her bedroom, orange ringlets flying behind her.
Like the faithful valet, Decker followed several steps behind. Rina got up, went into the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee.
Nervously, she pulled off her head covering and unclipped the barrette holding a ponytail, shaking out a shoulder-length sheet
of iridescent black hair. Then she tied it up again, but left the head covering off. She picked imaginary dirt off her jeans
skirt, then moved on to the imaginary lint on her pink sweater. She gnawed the edge of her thumb, but that only made the hangnail
worse.
Decker came back in, sat down at their cherry breakfast table—a bit scarred but still rock solid. When he carved it, he had
used the best-quality wood he could find, and it showed. He took off his blue suit jacket and draped it over the back of his
chair. He loosened his tie, then ran a hand through rust-colored hair heavily streaked with white. “What’s with the Levines?”
“It’s not the Levines, Peter; it’s Jonathan’s in-laws, the Liebers— Raisie’s family. There’s been a terrible incident. His
brother-in-law Ephraim was found dead—”
“Oh no!”
“Murdered, Peter. They found him in some seedy hotel room in upper Manhattan. To add to the confusion, he was with his fifteen-
year-old niece—his brother’s daughter. Now, she’s missing. The family’s in shambles.”
“When did all this happen?”
“I just hung up with Jonathan about five minutes before you came home. I think they found the body around three hours ago.”
Decker looked at his watch. “Around 4
P.M
. New York time?”
“I guess.”
“What was this guy doing in a ‘seedy hotel room’ with his fifteen-year-old niece in the middle of a school afternoon?”
A rhetorical question. Rina didn’t answer. Instead, she gave Decker a slip of paper with Jonathan’s phone number.
“It’s horrible.” Decker fingered the paper. “I feel terrible for them. But this call… Is it just a comfort call? I mean, Jon
doesn’t expect me to do anything, does he?”
“I don’t know, Peter. I suppose he’d like you to work miracles. In lieu of that, maybe you should call him up and listen to
what happened.”
“He can’t expect me to go out there.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. You have a pretty good track record.”
“A prisoner of my own success. I have a
job
, Rina. As much as my heart goes out to them—it truly is horrible—I can’t leave at a moment’s notice and run off to Boro Park.”
“Actually, Chaim Lieber and his family live in Quinton, which is upstate. His widowed father lives there as well. Jonathan’s
wife, Raisie, is Chaim’s younger sister. It’s Chaim’s daughter who’s missing.”
“In upstate?” Decker thought a moment. “Is the family religious?”
“Yes. Quinton is a very religious enclave. The family’s black hat, superreligious except for Raisie. She’s Conservative like
Jonathan.”
“The outcast,” Decker said.
“She and Jonathan were lucky to find each other.” Rina got up and poured two cups of coffee. “They both came from the same
background and have altered their lifestyles for similar reasons.”
“And her father lives in Quinton. By himself?”
“I believe so. Raisie’s mother died around ten years ago. Don’t you remember their talking about her memory at Jonathan’s
wedding?”
“No, but I wasn’t paying close attention.” Decker stared at the number. “Why don’t you tend to Hannah while I do this?”
“Don’t want me hanging over your shoulder?”
He stood up. “I don’t know what I want.” He gave Rina a kiss on the forehead. “I know what I
don’t
want. I don’t want to make this phone call.”
Rina took his hand and squeezed it. “Why don’t you talk from the bedroom? That way I can get dinner started.”
“Fine. I’m starved. What are we having?”
“Lamb chops or salmon?”
“I get a choice?”
“Both are fresh. Whatever you don’t want, I’ll freeze.”
“Hannah hates fish.”
“She hates lamb chops, too. I have some leftover schnitzel for her.”
“Lamb chops, then.” Decker made a face, then went inside the bedroom and closed the door. He kicked off his shoes and stretched
out on his California king bed, dialing the number. It wasn’t Jonathan’s home phone in Manhattan, so Decker figured that it
must be either his cell or possibly his synagogue, located near Columbia University. His half brother was a Conservative-pulpit
rabbi. On the sixth ring, he answered.
“Jon!” Decker said.
“Akiva!” A loud whoosh of air. “Thank you so much for calling!”
“My God, Rina just told me. That’s terrible! You must be going through hell!”
“Not as bad as my wife’s family. At this point, we’re all shell-shocked.”
“I’m sure you are. When did this happen?”
“About three hours ago. About four o’clock here.”
“Jeez. And what do the police say?”
“Not much of anything. That’s the problem. What does that mean?”
“It means they probably don’t know much.”
“Or aren’t telling us anything.”
“That could be. I’m so sorry.”
There was silence over the line. Jonathan said, “You didn’t ask how it happened.”
“If you want to tell me the details, I’m here.”
“I don’t want to burden you.…”
But that’s exactly what he was going to do. “Tell me what’s going on, Jon. Start at the beginning. Tell me about the family.”
“Oh my.” A sigh. “Raisie comes from a family of five—two boys, three girls. Both of her brothers are older. Chaim is the eldest,
then Ephraim, the one who was… murdered. Raisie’s the oldest daughter. Chaim Joseph is a typical oldest son…reliable, responsible.
He and his wife, Minda, have seven children. He’s a good man who has always worked hard in the family business.”
“Which is?”
“Several retail electronic stores in Brooklyn… one on the Lower East Side. You know, TVs, stereos, cameras, computers, mobile
phones, DVDs, etcetera. The second brother, Ephraim Boruch…the one who this happened to… he’s had some problems in the past.”