“He wouldn’t pay someone, arrange for something to happen …”
“Absolutely not.”
“When’s he expected?”
“Sometime after noon. He’s on an eight a.m. to LaGuardia out of de Gaulle, which is two a.m. here.”
“I’ll meet the plane.”
“That would help me. I was going to pick him up, but I’d rather not leave Mom. I appreciate that.”
“Wish I could say I was doin’ it out of the kindness of my heart, but I need to question him.”
Nicole shook her head. “He’ll be an open book.”
“That so?”
“He always is.”
“You sure about that?”
“I know him better than anyone but Mom.”
“No vestiges of PTSD?”
“Sorry?”
“He’s not exactly a private citizen, ma’am. Your own foundation website says he’s a wounded vet.”
“That was a long time ago. He’s achieved an awful lot since then.”
Wojciechowski shrugged. “Saw some action. Came back with only half a one of his hands. You never know how that stuff plays out. He talk about it at all?”
“No, he doesn’t. He says guys who talk about the war are probably lying. That for the guys on the front lines, it’s the last thing you want to talk about. Anyway, he’s an entirely different person now.”
“How would you know? You weren’t born till, what, years after he got back?”
“Nineteen Eighty, but I mostly know from Mom. She met him when he got back, sullen and angry. But you’ll see it. Smart, funny, engaging, a man of faith. And like I said, he adores my mother.”
“Prone to anger?”
Nicole had to think. “No. That’s not one of his faults.”
“What is?”
“I’m not going to sit here and psychoanalyze my own father. Especially with you probing for—”
Wojciechowski held up both hands. “Hey, I’m trying to clear him, not nail him. But I hafta ask you something hard.”
“You already have.”
“You’re gonna want to be in touch with him when he lands, right?”
“Of course. He’ll want an update on Mom.”
“I need you to have no more contact with him until I bring him here.”
“You think we’re going to conspire on a story?”
“Just protocol. I’d rather he not even know we’re involved until I tell him.”
“He’s likely to call or text.”
“Just let him know someone will pick him up. I’ll question him on the way back, so by the time we get here, you should have him all to yourself.”
“I hope you’re not asking me not to talk with my mother as soon as she’s conscious.”
“Not without one of my people in there with you. I assume you’ll just be asking her what happened, what she remembers …”
“Well, I won’t be telling her you suspect my dad or me. That would devastate—”
“C’mon, Doc. You’re a smart lady. You hafta know we don’t suspect either of you, and I sure wouldn’t want you or your father to have had anything to do with this. We have to clear you, that’s all. I got a family too, ya know. Two families, actually. Two kids with the first wife. Two more now. I like to see close families.”
“That’s what you’re going to see here, Detective.”
He stood and reached for her hand. “I’m gonna get me some shut-eye before heading to the airport.”
“And one of the uniformed officers will be with me when I talk to my mother?”
“No, I’ll send a matron from the precinct, in street clothes so we don’t alarm your mother when she comes to. My gal’ll probably look like a hospital staffer. She won’t be askin’ any questions. Just taking notes. I want to talk to your mom myself.”
CHAPTER 8
Ur
Terah trudged down from the roof, wishing it was daytime so he could pray to the sun god Utu and change his request from a son to a daughter. He believed Utu left heaven from the east every morning and soared through the skies in his chariot to observe everything that occurred each day, returning to heaven in the west at night after meting out divine justice and saving those in peril who called on his name.
Terah helped Ikuppi strap his sword back on and saw him off. He slipped inside and knelt before his table full of idols. They were lesser gods than Utu and even the king, but still, in tears, he quietly implored them to keep him from having to abdicate his position and flee with his family.
Terah’s wife emerged from behind the curtain that separated the kitchen from the great room. She lay her hands gently on his shoulders. “A son will be the end of us,” Belessunu said. “Where would we go? I’d not be ready to travel for several days, but even then, we are not young people. And Nimrod has allies all over the kingdom.”
“We are now praying for a daughter,” Terah said. “But the king himself is praying we’ll have a son.”
“Or so he says,” Belessunu said. “Wouldn’t he prefer not to have to murder the son of his senior officer?”
“I should hope. Regardless, he deceives me—telling me he also longs for a son for us. We must beseech the gods for a dau—”
“Truth be told,” Belessunu said, turning Terah’s face to look him in the eyes, “I will not pray for a daughter. And you know I do not pray to your handmade rubbish.”
“Do not blaspheme, wife! If you anger the—”
“Terah, I am praying the God of our forefathers will bestow upon us the child He chooses. May His will be done.”
“And if his will costs us our child?”
“If I bear a son, I would never allow you to offer him up to the will of a self-proclaimed mighty man who fears a newborn.”
“You won’t allow? Have I not been humiliated enough by your remaining childless until we’re old?” Terah immediately regretted the pain his words wrought in her eyes.
“I won’t have to oppose you, husband. I know you. You would not do such a thing anyway.”
“No, I would not. But you know as well as I do that defying Nimrod would cost us more than a son.”
“Still, I will trust the one true God,” she said.
Terah turned back to his idols. “Perhaps we do well to pray to our own gods.”
“Will you still pray to the king too? Does he remain a god to you, one you admit deceives you?”
Terah sighed. “I hold out hope that Ikuppi is mistaken.”
“Hope could cost us our child and land us in the dungeon—or worse. We must escape.”
“From here?” Terah said. “From Amraphel? As you said, the entire kingdom is his. Where would we go?”
CHAPTER 9
Manhattan
Detective Wojciechowski’s referring to Officer Julia Martinez as a matron had given Nicole an entirely wrong expectation. Friendly and talkative, Martinez was a striking twentysomething in a fashionable suit. “You know those security guys downstairs tried to talk me out of my sidearm?” she said.
“This is a gun-free zone,” Nicole said.
“Not if you got a badge it’s not. And you better be glad I do. Otherwise you got only bad guys with guns. You don’t want that, especially if somebody’s after your madre.”
The uniformed officers stood on either side of the door to the recovery room where Mrs. Berman had been delivered, unconscious and peaked, as if in a coma. Nicole and Officer Martinez sat across the hall awaiting word that her mother had awakened. A nurse said it would likely be at least half an hour.
It proved longer.
At 1:15 in the morning, Nicole got a text from her dad: “Boarding. news?”
She hesitated, telling herself a brief reply would not violate the letter of Detective Wojciechowski’s instructions. “Recovery room. Still out. Have a safe trip. Love you.”
“Luv u2”
When Nicole was finally summoned, she asked Martinez if she had her notebook ready.
“Notebook?” the officer s
aid, producing her smartphone. “Do I look like a dinosaur?”
The nurse whispered, “Your mother is not communicative yet, but she’s conscious. Take anything she says with a grain of salt. She won’t remember much of this, if any.”
“How long before she’s, you know, lucid?” Officer Martinez said.
“Maybe an hour.”
Her mother squinted against even the low light. She blinked sluggishly and seemed to slowly scan the recovery room. Logy and confused as she appeared, fear loitered behind her heavy eyelids.
Nicole was impressed that Officer Martinez immediately slipped into a chair outside her mother’s range of vision. No way could her mother have detected Julia was a cop, but this way she didn’t even have to wonder. Her mother’s gaze finally reached Nicole but lingered only briefly.
“Hi, Mama,” Nicole said quietly, taking her hand—the one free of IVs. Limp. Zero response. “You look good. Just rest. You’re okay.”
Her mother closed her eyes again but grimaced. Nicole stroked her hand. “Remember the prayer you taught me when I was little? ‘I thank You, living and eternal King, for returning my soul within me in compassion. Great is Your faithfulness.’”
“Beautiful!” Julia Martinez whispered. “What is that?”
Her mother’s eyes opened at the sound of a new voice, and Martinez immediately covered her lips with a hand.
“A Hebrew blessing,” Nicole mouthed.
Martinez pulled her hand away and said, loud enough for only Nicole to hear, “Of course, you’re Jewish. I’m Catholic.”
“Messianic.”
“What’s that?”
“Messiah. We’re Jews who believe in Jesus.”
“No way! Cool!”
Nicole turned back to her mother when she squeezed Nicole’s hand. “I’m here, Mama.”
The older woman’s lips moved.
“Just rest, Mama. No need to talk.”
“Talking to your father?” her mother slurred.
“No, just a friend.”
She tugged Nicole’s hands as if she wanted her closer. Nicole leaned in. “Where’s Ben?”
“On his way from Paris. He’ll be here in several hours.”
“I’m dying.”
“No, Mama. You’re going to be fine. You just broke your hip.”
“We have to—have to forgive each other, Nic. Recon—reconcile.”
“No, no, we’re fine.”
“You thought I didn’t care.”
“Mom, relax, please. You’re confused. That was twenty years ago.”
“I’m sorry!”
“I was sorry too. We forgave each other. Remember?”
“Want us … want us to love each other.”
“I couldn’t love you more, Mama. Now you rest. It’s all good between you and me.”
“Don’t hate me.”
“Oh, Mama. I could never hate you. I never did.” Nicole put a hand under her mother’s neck and kissed her cheek, then spoke directly into her ear. “We’re besties, remember? I had to tell you what that meant.”
Tears rolled down her mother’s cheeks.
“Mama, don’t, please. I’m here for you, and I always will be.”
CHAPTER 10
Ur
Belessunu winced and reached to steady herself, toppling one of Terah’s idols. The ten-inch carving rolled into the one next to it, causing it to fall into the next. Terah scrambled from his knees to stop the tumbling and rolling idols, causing all the more to fall. “Look what you’ve done!” he cried.
When he finally stopped the avalanche, more than half the icons lay in chaos on the table. He turned to glare at his wife and saw her expression had changed from pain to mirth. “Your gods can’t even keep themselves from falling! How are they going to save us from King—”
“You dare to laugh in the face of—”
“Objects? Yes, I dare.”
“If we lose their favor and have a son, Belessunu, it’ll be your fau—”
“The God of our forefathers has blessed us, and He will give us the child He—”
“Your god made Amraphel the king and me his lesser,” Terah said. “How is that just?”
“Nimrod made himself king, and you made yourself inferior!”
“Leave me!” Terah bellowed. “I must pray you bear a daughter.”
“Pray for what you will to these blind and deaf and silent images. I will pray for wisdom. I hope we do have a son, just to show you the folly of these carvings. But then we will need the mind of the one true God to know what to do.”
“You’d better hope your god answers, Belessunu, because you have lost your mind.”
“All I ask is that you return to the faith you showed when we married,” she said.
Terah dismissed her with a wave, calling after her, “That was a long time ago.” But as he rearranged the idols and prostrated himself before the table, he found himself unable to utter one prayer, not even silently. He still believed in the gods, except for Nimrod-Amraphel—not anymore. But Utu! Oh, when the sun reappeared from heaven in the morning, he would be able to pray with confidence to the god of truth, morality, and justice.
Perhaps while Utu slept, his twin sister, Inanna, the queen of heaven, would perform a miracle on behalf of Belessunu. Terah cradled the image of her he had reverently created and dipped in gold. “Goddess of love, beauty, and fertility, if Belessunu carries a male child, change it to a female, I pray!”
From the other side of the curtain that separated the kitchen from the great room, Belessunu whispered emotional prayers Terah could not make out. And almost as suddenly as she began, she stopped. “Thank You, Lord,” she said. “Terah!”
CHAPTER 11
Manhattan
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the recovery room nurse said. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying, and as I told you, she won’t likely remember—”
“I know,” Nicole said, unable to control her own tears. “But whatever she’s feeling right now breaks my heart.”
“It’s like a dream, Dr. Berman. Not even a real emotion.”
Officer Martinez had her phone out, causing Nicole to give her a sharp look. “Not recording yet,” Julia said. “She’s not makin’ sense.”
A quiet knock announced Dr. Thorn. “How’s our girl doing?” he said, flipping on the lights and taking her chart from the nurse. “Daughter can stay. Have the visitor step out.”
“Ain’t no visitor,” Officer Martinez said, producing her badge.
The surgeon put a hand on her mother’s shoulder and spoke loudly. “You with us yet, dear? Soon as you’re up to it, you can eat, okay?”
“Not hungry.”
“You will be. Surgery went long but well. I’ll check in on you again tomorrow afternoon—well, this afternoon, actually.”
Her mother nodded, but Nicole read frustration on her face. As the doctor began to pull away, Virginia held on to his wrist. “Daughter …”
“Yes! The one you were telling us about. She’s been watching out for you.”
“Hates me.”
“Mama! No, please!”
“Need to forgive me.”
Dr. Thorn turned his back to Nicole’s mother and whispered, “You’ve been told this is the sedation talking, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Let’s talk outside,” he said.
Officer Martinez followed them into the hall, phone out. “Gotta tell the detective what you found, why we’re here.” She recorded as he talked with Nicole.
“I found less bone density than—”
“Get to why you called the police,” Nicole said.
“I had no choice.”
“I’m not disputing that. What made it so obvious that her injuries were inflicted by someone else?”
“We were told the housekeeper found your mother on her stomach on the floor, unconscious, with a rug burn on her forehead. Paramedics determined her vitals were good, but when they examined her for internal injuries, they
suspected the broken hip. That determined how they positioned her for transport here. MRI technicians found the back bruises and noted them on her chart, but when I got in there I saw the extent of the damage—besides the hip fracture, lower back soft-tissue damage, broken ribs, and spinal trauma. It’s simply not possible for this to have been accidental, let alone the result of a fall—even a bad one. I could conclude only that my patient had been brutally attacked.”
Nicole shook her head. “I can see you had no choice but to make that call. ’Course now I have a problem.”
“Ma’am?”
“I’ve never known my mother to have an enemy. Not one. This had to be a home invasion, maybe a robbery.”
“Obviously that’s beyond my purview. But you have a more serious problem, don’t you? Even if this officer had not been here, the nurse and I would be obligated to inform the police of what your mother said.”
“That? She’s recalling some childish spat from more than twenty years ago when I was a know-it-all high schooler. And you said yourself she’s confused, won’t remember—”
“She said you hated her, Dr. Berman. That’s not for me to evaluate, but it has to be included in any investigation.”
“Indulge me just another second, Doctor,” Nicole said, “please. My mother sounds delirious. Can she be expected to own what she says in the state she’s in?”
Dr. Thorn shrugged. “Delirium is common with hip fractures among the elderly, but frankly, your mother is on the young side for that. Most of my hip patients are eighty or older. So I would ascribe any incoherence to anesthesia.”
“Well, you did anesthetize her twice.”
“That was necessary and wholly safe. If she’s not more lucid when she becomes fully conscious, we can administer simple tests of concentration. But even if she does awaken with no memory of what she said about you, I can’t rule out that she may have been expressing some very real but suppressed fear. I’m duty bound to report that.”
“I got it, Doc,” Officer Martinez said.
CHAPTER 12
Ur
Terah jumped to his feet at his wife’s cry and whipped back the curtain to the kitchen. “Is it the baby?” he said.
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