Lineup (27 page)
GALIT
kicked herself. Why was she such an idiot? “Let me off by the supermarket. I have to pick up a few things,” she’d just heard herself say. Assaf threw her a puzzled look, baffled. She could read the question in his eyes: Shopping? Now?
If she could, she’d tell him the truth, but she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to keep her mask on, play the game. If it weren’t for all the rules, she’d confess she was nervous about the inevitable awkward silence at the end of a first date. She routinely cross-examined murderers and rapists on the stand, but in those final moments she never knew what to say to a man and just went dumb.
It didn’t matter when it was someone she wasn’t attracted to, but this time was different. She liked him. She’d been a basket case for the past ten minutes, nodding and smiling from time to time so he wouldn’t realize she wasn’t listening to what he was saying. Her brain was actually occupied trying to frame memorable good-night phrases. Those two minutes at the end of the date were crucial. That’s what stuck in a man’s mind.
HE’D
phoned her two days ago. She was sure the call was prompted by the rumors that had spread like wildfire throughout the local legal system: his former client, Ziv Nevo, was innocent. The cops and the DA had got it wrong from the start.
But she was mistaken. Like her, he was an eloquent speaker in a courtroom or plea-bargaining session, but now he sounded hesitant. He’d wanted to ask her out for a long time, he explained, but he’d held back because of their professional relationship. He’d finally decided to put his reservations aside. He found himself very attracted to her, he stammered at the end, bringing a smile to her face.
She didn’t really know what to expect. He picked her up at nine and broke the initial uncomfortable silence by asking if she was still walking to work.
“You remember?” she said, pleased that he’d paid such attention. “For the time being. My brother’s leaving in two or three weeks and I’ll finally get my car back, I hope. He was supposed to be here for ten days, but he keeps putting off the flight back to Germany. My mother’s thrilled, but I’m going crazy without the car.” She heard herself babbling like a schoolgirl and shut up.
“If you miss your car so much, we can go karting,” he suggested.
She was ashamed to have to admit she had no idea what that was.
“Go-kart racing,” he explained.
“You watch or drive?”
“You drive,” he answered with a smile, searching her face for her reaction to his suggestion.
“Sounds like fun,” she said, returning the smile.
She was pretty sure she wouldn’t put karting at the top of her list of favorite activities. Actually, she was certain she wouldn’t. She hated to drive fast, preferring to crawl down the road under the speed limit. And she didn’t think helmets were her thing. But when all was said and done, she had a good time. She liked the fact that he’d given it thought, had come up with a cute, original idea. Maybe he took all his dates here. He probably did (she thought she saw the guy in the ticket booth wink at him when he showed up with her, but she might have imagined it). So what? In the dating world, with all its strict rules, she was impressed by anything out of the ordinary.
BUT
then she had to go and ruin everything. Instead of the evening ending on a positive note like it should have, she had to blurt out, “Let me off by the supermarket. I have to pick up a few things.”
He stopped the car in front of the supermarket, looking just as disappointed with her as she was with herself. A car honked for them to get out of the way. Eleven thirty at night and the traffic was almost as heavy as midafternoon. “You’d better get out,” he said quietly, nodding toward the car behind them.
She was out of time. She had to say or do something to salvage the situation. If she were in his place, she’d think she was blowing him off.
“I had a good time tonight,” she said with a smile.
Assaf remained silent. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over and kissed him.
AS
usual, the walkway to her building was dark, Brenner, her upstairs neighbor, insisting on turning the light off. She’d asked him time and again to leave it on, explaining that it made her uneasy to walk down the path in the dark, especially after the incidents in the neighborhood. But he stood his ground. Eighty years old and a skinflint to boot. He didn’t give a damn about young women and their phobias.
But tonight it didn’t matter. She was in too good a mood. She’d just gotten a text from Assaf saying he’d had a good time too. In dating-speak, that meant he wanted to see her again.
She strolled toward the entrance carrying the bag of groceries. This might be the start of something good, she thought to herself.
Suddenly she froze. Someone was standing by the front door. Despite the darkness, his presence was unmistakable. What should she do? Turn on her heels and run? She stuck her hand in her purse and clutched the canister of pepper spray.
“Hello.” She was sure she’d heard that voice somewhere today.
Galit breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped into the light and she saw his face.
“What’re you doing here? You startled me,” she said angrily.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he replied, coming closer.
“What for?”
He didn’t answer.
Her relief was short-lived. Something didn’t feel right. Why was he waiting for her in the dark?
“You weren’t very nice to me today,” he said. She could feel his breath on her cheek.
She took a step back, but he was faster. He grabbed her arm. She struggled to free herself.
“You were mean to me. I treated you with respect and you humiliated me,” he said, tightening his grip on her. The reek of his sweat was making her sick to her stomach. Again she fought to get free, but he pulled her closer.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Now she could see a large knife in his other hand.
“I always give them a chance. But you’re special, aren’t you? So you’ll get special treatment, just for you.”
Galit stared at him in terror. Her pulse was racing. Both Adi and Dana said the rapist had threatened to kill them if they didn’t play along. He wanted them to beg for their life. Is that what he meant when he said he gave them a chance?
She realized her best move would be to apologize for offending him, beg for his forgiveness, promise to do whatever he wanted, but she couldn’t get the words out. The only sound she made was the scream that escaped from her throat when he grabbed her by the hair and threw her on the ground.
DORI
wasn’t answering his phone. Amit kept trying, but all he got was a recorded message saying the number was unavailable. “That’s odd,” he said after the fifth failed attempt to reach him. “Dori never switches off his phone.”
Nachum was still weighing everything Giladi had told him, examining the image that took shape in his mind as the reporter was talking. He hadn’t paid much attention when Giladi started spouting excuses, but as the words sank in, he gradually found himself focusing on the picture he was painting of a man who enjoyed demeaning his employees, who had an obsessive interest in the rapes, who kept pushing Giladi to find out more about the investigation, who took great delight in putting the cops to shame. He wasn’t sure he agreed that the editor had left the rings out of the story in the paper merely because he didn’t like the name Giladi suggested. Add to that the fact that he was a regular customer at the Zodiac Café.
Although the facts seemed to be leading him in one direction, Nachum was reluctant to draw hasty conclusions. He was too seasoned a detective for that. It was all circumstantial, easily explained. Besides, the last time he’d jumped to conclusions he’d found himself chasing the wrong man, and he’d ruined the poor guy’s life and gotten himself kicked off the force in the process.
That’s why he needed to see a picture of Engel. He’d asked Giladi to show him photos of all the people he worked with because he didn’t want him to know where he was going with this, but the only person he was really interested in was Dori Engel. Giladi called him a snake in the grass. Nachum’s heart missed a beat when he saw the photo of him standing by the pool in bathing trunks. The man he was looking at matched Adi’s description, and even bore a certain resemblance to Nevo in terms of height, build, and complexion. Most damningly, tattooed snakes slithered up both his arms.
It all fit: his physique, face, tattoos, and character profile, as well as the attempt to keep tabs on the rape investigation and the way he taunted the victims, their families, and the cops. It all fit.
What should he do with it? The right thing would be to take it to Ohad. But what if he was wrong? He didn’t have a single piece of solid evidence, just a hunch. They wouldn’t be in a hurry to arrest a respected journalist, and surely not solely on the word of a disgraced ex-detective.
“Try again,” he instructed Giladi. He needed to come face-to-face with Engel before he went to Ohad. He wanted to get the feel of the man, to draw him out, get him talking, learn more about him.
While Giladi was trying to reach Engel, he dialed Galit Lavie again, but she still didn’t pick up. Her phone also seemed to be switched off. He was troubled by Giladi’s assumption that Engel had gone to the courthouse to interview her himself. He knew her well enough to know there was little chance she’d agree to the interview, and her refusal might enrage Engel, and then . . . He nipped that thought in the bud. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself.
It was eleven o’clock at night.
“Are you finally ready to tell me what the hell is going on?” Giladi said, interrupting his thoughts.
Nachum gazed at him for a long time without saying anything, trying to come to a decision. He couldn’t just sit here twiddling his thumbs. He had to get out there. He had to do something.
“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said.
HE
drove rapidly, swerving through the traffic. Galit had once told him she lived down the block from Adi. Same street. He tried her number again. No answer.
He had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if his theory was right from start to finish? What if Engel was going after Galit tonight? What then? His instincts had let him down badly the last time, but until then he’d always been able to trust his gut. He had to trust it now too, not hesitate simply because he might be wrong again.
He tried to reach Galit one more time. Still no answer. Engel wasn’t picking up either.
He had no choice. He had to risk it. If he was wrong, he’d have to learn to live with it. But if he wasn’t, he’d never be able to forgive himself.
Ohad sounded drowsy when he answered the phone. Nachum could hear the television in the background. He spoke quickly, outlining his theory, explaining where it led, or at least where he thought it led. Ohad listened in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, the detective could see Giladi’s mouth gaping wider and wider.
“What do you want me to do?” Ohad asked when he was done. His tone was now crisp and purposeful.
“Send a couple of squad cars to the area around Louis Marshall, and make sure one goes straight to her house,” Nachum answered, leaning harder on the gas pedal.
“This’s blowing my mind. I’m in shock,” Giladi said when Nachum hung up.
“Relax, it’s just a theory. I’m not sure I’m right. I just don’t want to take any risks,” Nachum said in an effort to calm the reporter. He knew Giladi would be the first to plunge a knife into him if he was wrong.
“It makes sense, it all fits. I always knew he was a psychopath. Now I get why the maniac kept pressuring me to stay on the story. He must have been very pleased with himself when you arrested the wrong man. I bet he was licking his lips when he sent me to bug Adi Regev and when he harassed Dana Aronov’s poor parents in the hospital.”
Nachum kept his thoughts to himself.
“I can already see tomorrow’s headline,” Giladi muttered to himself. “ ‘Engel Is the Devil.’ ”
SARAH
Glazer was dreaming she was a little girl riding a bicycle through the streets of Tel Aviv when she was startled awake by the noise of sirens. She looked at the alarm clock by her bed. A quarter to twelve. She had a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning and she wanted to get there early so she didn’t have to wait. She’d asked to be Dr. Shaham’s first patient of the day, but she didn’t trust him to keep to the schedule.
She closed her eyes, hoping to sink back into her cozy dream, but she had trouble getting back to sleep. It was hard enough for her to fall asleep these days, even without all the noise outside.
Sarah dragged herself out of bed and turned on the light. The wailing of the sirens was now joined by the sound of a helicopter overhead.
She walked through the house, switching on the lights as she went. Knowing she was all alone in the apartment made her feel anxious, especially in the dark. Ever since Sefi died, there was no one there to grumble, “What’s all the racket. Do they think it’s Independence Day?” or “How do you expect me to pay the electric bill?” She got her binoculars and opened the blinds. She was immediately blinded by a flashing blue light.
“This is the police. Stay inside and keep your doors closed,” she heard a metallic voice call through a megaphone.
She focused the binoculars on the street below and saw that nice police officer who’d visited with her last month. He was running down the street, limping badly. She didn’t recall a limp when he was in her house. She’d read he was fired, but that must be a mistake. He was so professional, so courteous.
She continued to follow him through the binoculars. When he got to the corner, he stopped by a police car. Several people were milling around him. She adjusted the focus and saw that he had his arms around someone, a young woman with long hair.
Sarah’s heart started racing. She wondered what new catastrophe had struck her street. She had to find out, but she remembered Dr. Shaham’s orders to take a pill immediately when she had palpitations like this.
She stuck a pill under her tongue and went into the bathroom to wash her face. The binoculars were still hanging from her neck, so she decided she might as well see how the cats were coping with all the commotion. In contrast to the noise and excitement in the front of the house, it was dark and quiet in the back. She couldn’t distinguish anything in the blackness until she pressed the night-vision button. She froze. A man was lying there on the ground, curled up like a baby, hiding.
Her heart was still pounding despite the pill. Images from that horrible night floated up before her eyes. She left the bathroom and hurried into the living room. With shaking hands she opened the drawer in the credenza and took out the police officer’s card. Inspector Nachum, she read.
He answered on the second ring. She took a deep breath. This time she was going to do something.
“Inspector Nachum? This is Mrs. Glazer, Sarah Glazer. One of the neighbors. The man you’re looking for is hiding in the backyard of my building.”
