The Devil in Jerusalem by Naomi Ragen

thin walls and her nosy neighbors, who would be listening to their every word. “Is that what we’ve been talking about?” she said in a heated whisper. “Dinner in Burger Ranch! That’s not the point, Shlomie.”
    He collapsed heavily into a chair, frightened by this sudden transformation of his kind, gentle, adoring Dani.… He was at a loss. He covered his eyes with his hands. “What is it you want?”
    â€œI want us to have a life. Is that so hard to understand? Free money is the least free thing in the world. It comes with all kinds of strings attached. You have no idea what my family can be like. I don’t want them to rule our lives.”
    â€œSo, you want to move to that place in the desert and grow figs?” he mocked.
    Her face sagged, the anger draining, leaving a pale, exhausted fury in its wake. “I don’t want to be dependent on anyone ever again, whatever it takes. I want to teach our children—the children we are bringing into the world—the value of hard work and achievement.”
    â€œBut a farmer…” He gestured helplessly.
    â€œIt’s not like it used to be, Shlomie. It’s all computerized now, the watering, the fertilizer. Very high tech. It’s a real opportunity for us to learn a profitable business.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “We need to work hard, to learn new skills, to contribute, especially now that we have debts to repay. What do you say, Shlomie?”
    He smiled and took her hand in his, almost convinced. Besides, it felt so much easier just to give in. “Please God, He will bless us and we’ll succeed.”
    And so yet another chapter in their marriage began, but not the last, which was as yet still inconceivable.

 
    7
    Bina Tzedek stood outside the door of the interrogation room with Morris and another senior detective, who between them had more than sixty years of experience in interviewing suspects.
    â€œI’m surprised you think you need me along,” she said.
    â€œYou’re a woman, a mother,” Morris explained.
    â€œThat person is not a mother. No mother—animal or human—behaves the way she has. She’s a monster.”
    â€œNo, she’s not,” Morris answered, shaking his head slowly. “She’s young. She has no record of any kind. There is a secret buried here. Something we need to dig out.”
    â€œHow many times has she been interrogated? She’s worse than the most hardened crime lord. She won’t budge. I’m not a miracle worker.”
    â€œJust try,” the other detective encouraged her.
    Daniella sat in front of the desk, looking small and incredibly childlike, dressed in the same outfit she had worn in the hospital, but wrinkled now and stained with perspiration and spots the color of tea.
    â€œLet’s stop the nonsense, shall we, Daniella?” Morris began.
    â€œRebbetzin Goodman,” she interrupted him wearily, her hubris gone, clinging to some shred of dignity.
    â€œWhy don’t you tell us the truth? We are going to get it out of you, one way or the other, Daniella,” Morris continued briskly, ignoring her request. He was done playing games.
    â€œI’ve told you everything about my ex-husband!” she insisted, tears in her eyes.
    â€œWe know, we know, you told us. How he beat you and abused you. How he abused the children…,” the other detective chimed in, his tone skeptical, almost mocking.
    â€œSo what do you want from me?”
    Bina put a restraining hand on Morris, slipping forward and pulling up a chair. She smiled, reaching out her hand across the desk.
    â€œHi, Rebbetzin Goodman. My name is Bina. I want you to know that I talked to your ex-husband, Shlomie. He denies all you say, and I believe him. He really doesn’t seem like the type at all.”
    Daniella ignored the proffered hand but looked up, suddenly wary, her eyes darting to and fro like