'AH right,' he said, extricating himself.
He got out of bed, went into the kitchen, and filled a glass with cold mineral water. When he returned she was sitting up, bare above the waist, her hair pinned up. He handed her the glass and she emptied it in two long drafts.
'Want more?' he asked.
'No, this is fine.' She moistened her finger on the rim of the glass, brushed it across her lips.
'Sure?' He smiled. 'There's a half-gallon bottle in the refrigerator.'
'Tease!' Fanning wet fingers, she splashed him lightly. 'Can I help it if I get thirsty? That's the way my body works.'
'Your body works just fine.' He lay down beside her, put his arm around her shoulder. She set the glass on the nightstand, looked at the clock that rested there, and gave a low moan.
'Oh, no. Three-twenty.'
'Sorry for waking you.'
She reached beneath the covers, touched him lightly, and laughed. 'All's well that ends well. Have you been up long?'
'A few minutes.'
'Anything the matter?'
'Just restless,' he said, feeling the tension return.
'I'll get up and let you rest.'
He began to move away but she touched his wrist and restrained him.
'No. Stay. We've hardly talked since you got that call.'
She rested her head on his shoulder, made circles with her palm across his hairless chest. They sat without speaking, listening to night sounds-a faint whistle of wind, the hum of the clock, the synchrony of their heartbeats.
'Tell me about it,' she said.
'About what?'
'What you avoided talking about by going to bed at nine.'
'You don't want to hear about it.'
'Yes, I do.'
'It's horrible, believe me.'
'Tell me, anyway.'
He looked at her, saw the will in her eyes. Shrugged and began talking about the murder, reporting dispassionately, professionally. Leaving out as much as he could without patronizing her. She listened without comment, flinching only once, but when he finished her eyes were moist.
'My God,' she said. 'Fifteen.'
He knew what she was thinking: not much older than Shoshi. He allowed himself to share the thought, and a stab of anxiety pierced him to the core. He defended against it the way he'd been taught to block out pain. Forcing pleasant images into his mind. Fields of wild poppies. The fragrance of orange blossoms.
'Heroin, sex murder, it doesn't? fit,' Laura was saying. 'We're not supposed to have that kind of thing here.'
'Well, now we do,' he said angrily. A second later: 'Sorry. You're right. We're out of our element.'
'That's not what I meant. I'm sure you'll solve it.'
'Twenty-four-hour shifts until we do.'
'It's just?' She groped for words. 'When I was growing up, I heard about those kinds of things alt the time. It wasn't that we accepted them, but? Oh, I don't know. Here, it just seems a heresy, Daniel. Demonic.'
'I understand,' said Daniel, but to himself he thought: That's exactly the kind of thing I have to avoid. Devils and demons, religious symbolism-the city makes you think that way. It's a crime, no more, no less. Perpetrated by a human being. Someone sick and fallible
'What time will you be leaving?' Laura asked. 'Seven. I have to walk down to the Katamonim. If I'm not back by twelve-thirty, start lunch without me.'
'The Katamonim? I thought you said she was an Arab.'
'Daoud thinks she is. We won't know until we ID her.' She unpinned her hair, let it fall to her shoulders. 'The brass wants it kept quiet,' he said. 'Which means meetings away from Headquarters. If we get any leads, we'll be meeting here, Sunday evening. Don't prepare anything. If we're out of soda, I'll pick some up.'
'What time in the evening?'
'Between five and six.'
'Do you want me to pick up Luanne and Gene?' Daniel slapped his forehead. 'Oh, no, how could I forget. When are they corning in?'
'Seven P.M. if the flight's on schedule.'
