Chava jumped. Heart hammering, she swiveled around to see Devoiry standing there, wide-eyed. A large kitchen knife was trembling in her hand

Chava picked up her phone and dialed Devoiry’s number. Again, it went straight to voice mail.

She threw down the phone with a hiss. Where was she?

The microwave clock read 1:41 a.m. She’d been prowling the kitchen ever since Gitty Levy’s disturbing phone call. “When I heard how your daughter fell into such terrible debt… and how those disgusting loan sharks are threatening her… I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Chava had cleaned her fridge and rearranged her spices. She yawned. She needed to go to bed, but there was no way she’d be able to fall asleep in this state.

Go to sleep. It’s probably just a rumor. But the more she tried to convince herself of that, the more she’d realized that the story actually fit. That it made sense in light of all of Devoiry’s inexplicable behaviors.

Chava slammed her hand on the table. Why didn’t she know? Why did Gitty Levy know more about what was happening in her daughter’s life than she did?

She clenched her fist in sudden resolution. Tomorrow, she would hunt Devoiry down. She’d go to her home; she’d go to her office; she’d search until she found her. And then she’d shake the truth out of her, no matter what it took.

Chava’s first stop was at Devoiry’s apartment. She had the key; maybe she’d discover some clue there?

She stepped cautiously inside. The room was dark, the blinds completely drawn, but otherwise nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Chava approached the table, where some papers were scattered, and lifted one.

“Maaaa!”

Chava jumped. Heart hammering, she swiveled around to see Devoiry standing there, wide-eyed. A large kitchen knife was trembling in her hand.

“What are you doing here?”

Devoiry’s snood was hanging sideways, and her sweatshirt was stained. Chava had never seen her daughter look so disheveled. “Devoiry, what on earth is going on? And why are you holding that knife?”