“You there?”
Uzi focused his gaze on Leila. “What?”
“You were spacing out on me.”
“Sorry.” He turned his attention to the menu. “I’ve never been able to eat Caesar salad in restaurants.” He glanced up and noticed the confused look on Leila’s face. “My wife made the best Caesar in the world. Ordering it in a restaurant would always be second rate. Or worse.”
“You’re married?” Her question carried the tone of an inquiry, not an accusation.
Uzi buried his face again in the menu. “Used to be.”
“Oh.” After a moment, she said, “Nasty divorce?”
His eyes shot up. “No, no. Nothing like that. She was… murdered.”
Leila’s face remained impassive. “Murdered.”
“Murdered.”
“How long ago?”
“Six years.”
She seemed to examine his face a moment, then said, “It still carries a lot of pain for you.”
Uzi didn’t respond. If only she knew.
“That’s a long time to suffer.”
Uzi closed the menu. “It’ll be with me the rest of my life. That kind of pain never heals.”
The waitress turned from the adjacent table and asked if they were ready to order.
“Caesar salad for the attractive young woman, and the falafel sliders for me.” He looked at Leila. “Bottle of—”
“How about a Pinot Noir?” she asked.
“We’ve got an ’09 Acrobat from Willamette Valley,” the waitress said. “Cherry and blackberry, firm tannins, with a silky mouthfeel. One of my favorites and reasonably priced.”
“Sold,” Uzi said.
The woman collected the menus and headed off.
Uzi dipped his chin. “Dena liked Pinot.”
Leila smiled. “She had good taste.”
“Yeah, she did.” Uzi lowered his eyes. All this talk about Dena— After his session with Rudnick, the old can had been opened and he was now sloshing around amongst the worms. Too many emotions to deal with now. He had a job to do, and walking around with a heavy heart and drudging up old feelings of guilt were affecting his focus. Maybe he should talk to Shepard, ask for a temporary reprieve on his counseling sessions. If he could make the case that it was impacting his performance in running the task force, he might allow him to forego treatment for a while. Then again, could he face Shepard after conspiring with Knox?
“You’re doing it again.”
Uzi shook his head. A beautiful woman is talking to me and I’m zoning out on her. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. This investigation, other things…”
“I lost a loved one, too,” she said. “My only brother.”
Uzi looked at her, and instantly saw the pain in her eyes. Why was she telling him this? To make him feel better — as if that would help his pain?
“Murdered, too.”
Uzi tilted his head. “Really.”
She nodded. “In Gaza.”
The waitress appeared with the bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses. She placed them on the table and seconds later had twisted the cork from the wine. She poured an inch and waited for Leila to taste it and nod her acceptance. Leila did and the two glasses were filled.
Uzi took a sip and let it float over his tongue. Memories of Dena again. Sitting in Venice on their fifth anniversary, sipping Chianti and watching the water taxis depart for Murano. They had taken one themselves, wandered the glass galleries and finally bought a bud vase that still sat on his dresser today, filled with a desiccated red rose. A constant reminder of their trip together. A constant reminder of her. Dena got pregnant with Maya on that trip—
He realized he had been staring at the table. “Spacing again, sorry.”
Leila was refilling her glass with more wine. “I’m beginning to think I’m poor company.”
Uzi forced a smile. “If anything, I’m the poor company here.”
She set down the bottle and swirled her glass. “You’ve hardly touched your wine.”
“Brings back memories.” He lifted the glass to his lips and drank.
“You’re thinking about your wife.”
Uzi’s eyes drifted down again. “And my daughter. She was killed too.”
Leila leaned forward. “Same time?”
Uzi nodded.
Leila reached out and touched Uzi’s right hand, which was resting on the table near his glass. The contact made him flinch.
“I understand the pain,” she said.
Uzi gently pulled his hand away and lifted the glass for another sip. “Did your brother live in Gaza?”
“Live there?” Leila snickered. “He was part of an IDF patrol.”
“How did you deal with his death? If you don’t mind me asking.’
Leila sucked in some air and blew it out slowly. “Anger, anger, and more anger. Some grief thrown into the mix somewhere along the line. Guilt, then more anger. The usual, I guess.”
“How’d it happen?”
“Remember back in 2001 when Hamas killed a bunch of IDF soldiers? He was one of them.” She studied her wine. “Terrorist sons of bitches.”
Uzi tightened his grip on the glass. “I wish they could feel the pain they cause. I wish on them what I’ve had to live with the past six years.”
“They’ll get theirs,” Leila said. “Sooner or later.” She nodded, apparently lost in thought herself. She took a long drink of Pinot.
“When did you leave Israel?”
“Shortly after. I needed a change of scenery.”
I totally understand. “Is that when you went to Jordan?”
Leila’s brow lifted. “How do you—”
“You CIA spooks aren’t the only ones with good intel.” He grinned.
“First I went through training at The Farm. Then, yeah, they placed me in Jordan.”
The waitress approached the table and set down their two dishes.
“I think I need this,” she said. “The wine, empty stomach…” She threw her hands out to her sides, swayed in her seat, forced a smile.
They finished their food, Uzi paid the tab over her objections, and they headed out to his Tahoe.
As he left the parking lot, he asked, “Back to the crime scene to pick up your car?”
“No, I got a ride there. Take me home.”
They arrived at Leila’s Hamilton House apartment building on New Hampshire Avenue NW a few minutes before midnight. A doorman stood just inside the lobby, unsure if he should approach the car. Leila waved and he nodded back, understanding that she did not need his assistance.
Uzi pushed the gear shift into park and crooked his neck to gaze up at the nine-story, block-long monstrosity that looked more like a hotel than an apartment building. “Nice place.”
“I’ve lived in caves, tents, and the desert. Compared to that, this is the lap of luxury. But really, home is what you make it.”
Uzi knew she was right. He looked at her large brown eyes and felt something in his chest. He struggled to define the sensation. Warmth? “Your eyes are so beautiful.” He saw the pleased look on her face before he realized what he had said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Do I look like I feel uncomfortable?”
Uzi turned away. “No. I think it’s me who’s uncomfortable.”
She pointed to the ignition. “Shut the engine.”
He craned his neck to look out at the No Parking placards at the curb. “I can’t park here.”
Leila tilted her head. “Alec and Jiri are my buddies. They’d do anything for me. Don’t worry about your car. Give Alec the keys. He’ll move it if there’s a problem.”