Read Outside Eden for Free Online Page B

if Inspector Alon had found out more about his killer.
    ‘Mime,’ Chloe called.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Mama. Mime.’
    ‘She wants water,’ Hagit said. ‘It’s
mayim
,’ she corrected Chloe’s pronunciation. ‘Ma-yim.’
    ‘You’re teaching her Hebrew?’ Harper was stunned. Chloe hadn’t even learned English yet.
    ‘Why not? A few words.’
    Harper pulled a bottle of juice out of her bag, handed it to Chloe.
    ‘What do you say?’ Hagit stooped beside the stroller, facing Chloe. ‘Tell us. To—’
    ‘DAH!’ Chloe grinned.
    ‘That’s right.’ Hagit nodded. ‘
Todah
.’
    ‘That means “thank you”?’
    ‘Yes.
Todah
.’
    Harper frowned. Wasn’t sure how she felt about Chloe becoming so verbal in a language she didn’t understand.
    They walked on among groups of Christians making pilgrimages along Via Dolorosa where Jesus carried his cross to his crucifixion. They were heading for the Church of the Holy Sepulcher when a bunch of uniformed schoolgirls stampeded out of an alleyway, nearly knocking them over. The girls were breathless, incoherent. Wide-eyed. Frantic. Hagit went to them, quieted them, gathered them together away from passing tourists. Asked them questions. A tall girl cried. A chubby one held her stomach, looking green. All of them talked at once, pointing into the alley.
    Hagit spoke to them in reassuring tones, touched their shoulders, their heads. Harper hadn’t understood their words, but she recognized the fear in their voices, the shock in their eyes. Other children flashed to mind, other eyes filled with terror. She heard sniper fire and men screaming. Saw a boy with no face . . .
    ‘Come with me.’ Hagit yanked her toward the alley.
    ‘What’s happened?’ Harper went along, pushing the stroller. Where were they going? Was it safe? Should she take the baby and run the other way? ‘Hagit?’
    But Hagit hurried ahead. ‘This way.’
    The schoolgirls fluttered behind them, following like baby ducks. Tourists clustered, curious, and closed in behind the girls. Harper looked back and saw a wall of people, so she pressed on after Hagit, who strutted into the alley, leading a parade.
    First, she saw feet.
    The passageway was stone on both sides, sunless and barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, but there were gaps where the walls weren’t as close. Doorways. Small nooks.
    The feet projected out of one such nook. They were dusky and sandaled. Definitely male.
    Harper stopped, recognizing the stillness of death. ‘Who is that? What did they tell you?’
    Chloe held her bottle up. She was done with it. ‘Mama.’
    Hagit kept going, waving Harper forward.
    Harper took the bottle. Watched Hagit’s backside. Behind her, the alley was clogged with people. Ahead, Hagit stood, staring down at whoever owned the motionless legs. Harper felt trapped, had nowhere to go.
    Reluctantly, she rolled the stroller forward. Was she really taking her baby to see a dead body?
    ‘Hagit,’ she frowned. ‘This is no place for Chloe.’
    Hagit didn’t budge. She stared down, mumbling syllables in Hebrew.
    Turning the stroller so it faced the schoolgirls, Harper moved closer to the body. Followed Hagit’s gaze.
    The man appeared to be Muslim. He was young, maybe twenty-five. He’d been laid out flat, as if on display, his head bent to the side, revealing a deep slash in his neck. His shirt was covered in blood. Harper fought images of other bodies, other ghastly wounds. She closed her eyes, pinching her arm, twisting the skin and focusing on the pain, forcing herself to remain in the moment. When she opened her eyes, she noticed an odd cut on the victim’s forehead. Carefully, Harper stepped over his legs, stooped to get a better look at his face. And saw an image carved there. At first, she thought it was a number six. But no. Her viewpoint was crooked. The carving wasn’t a six; it was the letter C. The shape of a crescent.
    The killer watched, invisible among the gawkers.