Read Online The Devil in Jerusalem by Naomi Ragen - Free Book Online Page A

it’s not that uncommon, believe it or not. Give me some time to study the material and I’ll let you know what I think.”
    â€œDon’t take too long. This is urgent. But I’m stumped. I figure you’re our best shot, being a woman, religious, a mother—”
    â€œPlease, don’t compare me to her,” she said, already dreading diving headfirst into this polluted cesspool. But like someone who has already paid for tickets to a particularly wild and dangerous amusement park ride, she felt she had no choice but to get on.
    She read over the preliminary information and the transcripts of the early interviews. From what she could see, Daniella Goodman wasn’t faking. She really was in another world, but no place Bina had ever visited on planet Earth.
    What kind of mother watches a child with an irreversible brain injury without crying out for revenge? What kind of mother turns around and blames a husband she hasn’t let near her kids in months? What kind of mother hides the truth, protects the abuser? There had to be someone else involved. After all, the mother had been in the hospital when her youngest child had been brought in. Who had put a three-year-old into a coma? And—not that it really mattered—why? Who had done this? And why did Daniella Goodman refuse to cooperate in bringing that person to justice?
    And how could they make her?

 
    6
    They were excited young newlyweds, getting ready for their new life. Almost immediately, they began gathering together those wedding presents that could not make the trip to Israel with them: all the electrical appliances that ran on the wrong voltage, the fragile crystal, the frivolous tchotchkes that would be expensive to ship and were unsuited to the serious life they planned, a life of family, study, and prayer. A life of simple pleasures.
    And just as suddenly, all their plans were suspended.
    She was pregnant. Honeymoon pregnancy, the doctor called it cheerfully. Shlomie was thrilled. She was devastated. It meant postponing their Aliyah indefinitely. And she had so wanted to get away, to leave behind her mother’s disappointment, her father’s irritated compassion.
    Her grandmother found them an apartment and paid for it. Shlomie got his old job back. And she waited, growing heavier and heavier and more despondent each day as the lethargy of idleness made her sleepy and indifferent.
    â€œWhy don’t you come to the store and help me out?” her mother suggested, emphasizing the “me,” making it judgmental and personal rather than an innocent question.
    â€œI don’t know the first thing about jewelry. You know that.”
    â€œYou could learn, though, couldn’t you?”
    It was better than nothing, Daniella supposed. At least it would get her out of the house and away from the refrigerator. Her weight gain was alarming.
    The store, founded in 1911, was immense, with lush, turn-of-the-century fittings that made it a landmark, historic building. Daniella sat behind sparkling glass counters lit by clever overhead lighting, her eyes mesmerized by the flash of well-cut diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. But aside from using Windex on the cases, there was little else she was really qualified to do, she thought listlessly. There was no way her mother would trust her to serve a serious customer shopping for a $20,000 diamond engagement ring. And not without good reason, she admitted to herself.
    â€œLook, over there,” her mother said one morning, nodding toward a young couple with tattoos. “They’re yours.” She snickered snobbishly.
    â€œCan I help you?” Daniella asked, smiling, feeling an immediate kinship with others her mother had found unworthy of her precious time and attention.
    â€œNo,” the young man answered, a half smile, ironic and dismissive, on his face.
    â€œSure,” the young woman said, glaring at him. “We’d like to see an engagement