Decker said, "You carry a gun, you take the responsibility that goes with it. Holstetter didn't, and it cost a life. If there's a moral here, it's 'Don't play with firearms.'"

"Still, I feel sorry for him," Cindy said. "He didn't mean to do it."

"I know," Decker said, "but Rigor's still dead." He turned down the heater. "A stupid, stupid tragedy. Not a moment has gone by that I haven't been thanking G.o.d. You were two feet away from Rigor when she was. .h.i.t."

"Yes, I-" Cindy abruptly changed the subject. "Did you tell them our theory of the bullet trajectory? About the sc.r.a.pe marks on the two tree trunks and the deflection angle that led right toward the window?"

"Yes."

"What did they say?"

"'Highly unlikely' was their response . . . something like that. Still, they must have given it more weight than they let on, because they are planning on reducing the charge." He smiled. "It didn't hurt that we found six other bullets in the tree trunks that also matched with Holstetter's gun. It gave him some mileage in the truth department."

They rode in silence for a while. Finally, Cindy said, "Our group . . . do you think the academy will take us back?"

"I don't think the academy subscribes to collective punishment. Why wouldn't they take you back-all of you except Holstetter? But they'll be watching you like hawks."

"Fair enough."

"More than fair." Decker waited a beat. "Cindy, listen to me carefully. You only have one obligation on this earth."

"What's that?"

"To take care of yourself. Promise me."

"I'll do my best."

"Not good enough."

"It's all I can give you right now, Dad."

Decker didn't say anything. Instead, he abruptly pulled onto the freeway shoulder.

Cindy grinned. "Piece of cake. Westbound 118, about to hook onto 405 South. Any other questions?"

"None," her father said. "That's it. Cla.s.s dismissed."

A WOMAN.

of MYSTERY

"A Woman of Mystery" explores the past coming back to haunt the present,

a favorite theme of mine. Although we

are not controlled by our own histories,

we are the sum total of our experiences.

How we handle our personal histories

says a lot about who we are. This story also offers a tiny glimpse into Rina.

Lazarus's past.

AS A STUDENT, EVE MILLER WAS DIFFERENT-not odd but distinct. And because Rina Decker was an experienced teacher, she knew this intuitively, although she could have pointed out several objective reasons why she thought Eve unique.

First off, the young woman's working knowledge of the Bible was far better than most of Rina's first-year Introduction to Judaism pupils. Although there were gaps in Eve's knowledge, she knew the stories of Genesis and Exodus by heart and could even quote pa.s.sages from memory. More impressive, she was familiar with the later sacred texts, specifically the Prophets.

Second, Eve didn't embrace the religion with the typical zeal found in born-again Jews-the ba'alei tshuva-whom Rina generally taught. On the contrary, Eve appeared hesitant to commit to the Orthodox ways. She asked probing questions and a.n.a.lyzed Rina's explanations. Eve seemed unsure about her spirituality, so it didn't surprise Rina to find Eve lingering about after cla.s.s one evening, waiting for the others to leave.

Maybe Eve had been working up her courage. After all, she was young-early twenties, whereas most of the other pupils were closer to thirty. She was fresh-scrubbed and pretty, with short blond hair that had been layered to expose gold-studded earlobes. Her complexion was soft, her cheeks had a natural blush. Her lips were full, and her eyes were iridescent green. She dressed neatly and conservatively: black slacks, white shirt under a crewneck sweater, flats on her feet. She was on the tall side, five-six or -seven. Her notebook was always tidy, her handwriting legible and neat.

The cla.s.s was officially over at nine P.M., but there was always a barrage of last-minute comments that stoked protracted discussion. It heartened Rina that her students were so enthusiastic that they rarely noticed the time. But eventually, she did have to put a stop to the after-hours dialogues. Rina did have a life. Still, she always felt a pang of guilt when she announced that it was time to go home.

And even after she dismissed cla.s.s officially, there were students who had just one more question or one last comment. How could she cut them off at such a crucial time in their religious development? In reality, there wasn't any pressing need for her to rush home. Her sons were almost young men and certainly didn't require physical care. Hannah was only six, but she was sleeping soundly by nine. And Peter could always find a way to occupy himself. Still, Rina valued her private time with her husband. As a police lieutenant, Peter worked long, hard hours and she never took her husband for granted.

Yet here was Eve, lingering, ill at ease, judging from the tapping of her left foot. Her arms were folded across her notebook, which she was pressing to her chest. Her expression was tense. Rina knew the young woman needed to talk. It took twenty minutes for the other students to file out. Finally, it was just the two of them.

Rina stacked the loose papers spread across her desk. She smiled. "Hi, Eve. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You look busy."

"Not at all." Rina pointed to an empty chair. "Please. Have a seat. What's up?"

Eve sat and placed her notebook on her lap. She licked her lips. "I don't know where to start." Her voice was a whisper.

"How about if you begin at the beginning?"

"That's just it, Mrs. Decker, I don't . . ."

A pause. Rina said, "Don't what, Eve?"

"I don't know the beginning." Another hesitation. "I don't know the beginning or the end." She locked eyes with Rina. "I don't know anything, because I don't know who I am." She held back tears. "I mean that literally. I have no memory of the past."

Slipping under the covers, Rina enjoyed the warmth of the blanket, the softness of the pillow beneath her head. She looked over at Peter, then took his hand. "I'm not a neurologist," she said, "but I don't think it's anything like a brain tumor. Eve's mental acuity is fine. At the risk of sounding psychobabbly, I'd say maybe it's some kind of dissociative state."

"Very psychobabbly." Decker marked off the page of his book, placed it on his nightstand, and turned off his reading lamp. He ran his fingers over his ginger mustache. "She needs to be checked out medically, Rina. And as soon as possible."

"Absolutely," Rina agreed. "I told her that."

"And what did she say?"

"She insists her problem isn't physical. She's sure that her memory loss means she's escaping something psychologically painful."

"So why doesn't she see a shrink?"

"She's too scared."

"Pretty swift insights, Rina," Decker said. "To me, it sounds like a bad movie. Are you sure she's not snowing you?"

"Maybe." Rina gave her husband's words some thought. "But why would she want to do that?"

"For attention."

"I don't know, Peter. She seems so genuinely upset." Rina paused. "For the moment, can we a.s.sume that her amnesia is legitimate?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"How would you go about searching for her true ident.i.ty?"

"How would I do it?" Decker smiled. "I'd send her to a psychiatrist, let him or her do all the work."

"I meant as a detective."

Decker lifted his eyebrows. "I can see you're determined to suck me into this. Okay. First tell me what you think."

"For starters, she sounds educated."

"Why?"

"Her use of language. Her syntax and vocabulary."

"Some college?"

"I think so."

"Does she remember going to college?"

Rina shook her head. "Her personal slate is blank, Peter. Except for her name. She thinks her actual name was something similar to Eve Miller. Also, she told me she liked the name Eve because Eve was the first woman."

"Also the first person to commit sin."

"She's aware of that fact."

"Yet she doesn't know how she picked up her knowledge of the Bible?"

"No. Just that she knows it in the same way she knows how to work a calculator or read a book. She says that was why she came to my cla.s.s in the first place-to hear me speak on Jewish laws and customs. She felt it might trigger something."

"And?"

"Nothing. The Jewish rituals are foreign to her." Rina turned over on her side to face him. "My guess? She had some kind of religious upbringing, like a churchgoing family."

"A college-educated person with a religious upbringing," Decker said. "But you don't think she's Jewish, because although she knows Bible, Jewish customs are alien to her."

"Exactly."

"So if she isn't Jewish, what religion is she?"

"My first thought was Catholic. But I think that most Catholics are taught more catechism than Bible." She looked at Decker for some kind of confirmation.

He said, "Beats me."

She sighed. "I'd say that she could have been raised as a fundamentalist Christian, maybe Baptist or Evangelical."

"Amish?"

Rina thought for a moment, then said, "She seems too worldly."

Decker nodded. "And she came to you for help . . . to find out who she is?"

"Someone must have told her that my husband is a police detective. Maybe she figured I was in a position to help."

"So why didn't she go directly to the police?"

"I told you, Pete-she's scared."

Decker rubbed his jaw. "On the professional side, it's a snap to plug the name 'Eve Miller' into the Missing Persons Network."

"A good place to start."

"You think so?" Decker smiled at his wife in the dark. Rina was anxious to help, but there was always a flip side to do-gooding. "You know, once I start this process, I'm going to find out things. Does she know she may learn information that could be very disturbing to her? Does she know that once the facts are out in the open, she can't take them back? And do you know that you may get blamed for everything if this turns into a mess?"