Liam whistled low. “You need to get on cracking that code as soon as possible.”
“I know.”
“What do you think the attorney’s pages contain, an account of Paul’s identity and real life? Or maybe he’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“That’s what I need to figure out.”
Liam nodded. “Well, I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“Thanks, I need all the help I can get. Know any good code breakers?”
“Sadly, no. My grandfather was, but I never got the chance to learn anything from him.”
“Is this the same grandfather who was the gun collector?” Mark asked.
“Yup.”
“He had to be an interesting guy.”
Liam just smiled.
Mark’s phone chimed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Traci had sent a text asking if he could pick up a few things at the grocery store on his way home. He replied that he would.
“It looks like I missed a call from Jeremiah,” he said.
“Must have been while you were sleeping.”
The rabbi had left a message and Mark played it.
It’s me. I need to know if M’s wife knows what room he was in. Also, can you tell us if M was a wealthy man?
Mark called back but it went to voicemail. He waited for the beep and then said, “As to your first question, I’ll find out. To your second, yes, he was a rich man,” and hung up.
Liam started chuckling.
“What?” Mark asked.
“For a moment there I thought you were going to break into a song from Fiddler on the Roof.”
“That would have amused you too much.”
“So, you’re going to deprive us both of the pleasure of you singing?”
“No, I’m saving us both from my singing. One day you’ll thank me for it, trust me.”
He called the station and a minute later was talking to the captain.
“Hi, it’s Mark. Jeremiah and Cindy want to know if we know which room Malcolm was staying in.”
“Why, have they found something?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but apparently they need to know the room.”
“Yes, his wife told me when she brought this all to my attention. Let me grab my notes.”
Mark could hear the sound of pages being flipped through in a notebook. Finally the captain picked the phone back up. “Bungalow nine. He always gave her his room number when he was staying somewhere, just in case.”
“Thanks, I’ll pass it on.”
“Call me the moment they know anything.”
“I will,” Mark promised. He hung up and called Jeremiah again.
“Nine,” he said when the voicemail came on.
He hung up just as their food arrived.
Jeremiah had felt his phone go off twice while they were waiting to go back inside the building. When they finally got the go ahead he lingered behind for a quick moment and checked his messages. They were both from Mark and were short and to the point.
He deleted them and then moved to catch up with the others. “Bungalow nine and rich,” he whispered in Cindy’s ear.
She nodded to indicate that she understood.
For the rest of the morning session he noticed that both of them had trouble focusing. It was with relief that they headed out when dismissed. They had about twenty minutes before lunch was served so they quickly made their way back to their bungalow to discuss what to do next.
As soon as the door had closed behind them Cindy turned to Jeremiah. “Bungalow nine, isn’t that Tristan and Beth’s room?”
“Yes.”
“Well, how are we going to break in there and search for clues?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Jeremiah said. “Whoever was involved with his disappearance erased him from the reservation system. We can assume they also went through the trouble of going through the room carefully when getting rid of his stuff. So, I doubt that barring a full forensics sweep of the room we will turn up anything of note.”
“So, what do we do then?”
“We make them think they missed something. Then we watch to see who responds. I’m guessing that whatever they did with his stuff, they didn’t just toss it in one of the dumpsters. They probably thought of a better way to dispose of it and hopefully we can trick them into trying to do the same with the evidence we manufacture.”
“What did you have in mind, exactly?”
“I think our man Malcolm left a journal with some very interesting things written in it. The only question is, where do we get a journal?” Jeremiah mused.
Cindy went instantly over to the closet and opened her bag. A moment later she returned with a brown leather notebook in hand. He took it from her in surprise and noted with relief that it was blank inside.
“How did you just happen to have this?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The only retreats of any kind I’ve been to they’ve always had us bring our Bible and a journal to write in. I brought both here. Habit I guess.”
“You are a genius,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks. How do you know that whoever is behind his disappearance won’t just burn it or something?”
“We need to put something compelling in there that will force their hand, make them go check him or the things that were in his room.”
“Or maybe both in case they can’t get to one but they can get to the other,” Cindy suggested.
“Good idea.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s time for lunch. We can think about what we want to write and then set our plan in motion just before dinner. We’ll just need a way to get Tristan and Beth to find the book and turn it in.”
“Oh, I’m already working on a plan for that,” Cindy said.
“Good.”
They went and had a quick lunch. When they returned Jeremiah sat down and began to make fake journal entries for the first couple of days of Malcolm’s stay at the retreat center. While he mentioned the names of a couple of the staff he made sure to leave things generic enough that no one would be able to tell that the entries were faked.
Cindy fished some resort stationery out of a drawer and handed it to Jeremiah.
“What do you want me to do with this?” he asked.
“I want you to write a letter from Malcolm to his wife. Then we’re going to seal it up in an envelope addressed to her and put it inside the journal.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell her that you have a bad feeling about something and that just in case you want her to know that the combination to your briefcase is I don’t know, make up some numbers, and that you’ve got some money or something in there. Also that you’ve got a diamond hidden in the heel of your one shoe. You know how paranoid you always are about being caught somewhere with no access to your money, but you want her to be able to recover these things in case something happens, etc.”
“Aha, so they’ll need to check his shoes, which are hopefully with him, and his briefcase which might not be. Excellent thinking. That’s better than what I was coming up with.”
“Thank you,” she said with a grin.
He barely had time to finish the letter and seal it in the envelope before they had to head to their afternoon sessions. He slid the book underneath the mattress just in case anyone came in while they were gone. It wasn’t the most secure place in the world, but at least it wasn’t sitting out in the open.
By the time Mark made it home he was exhausted. He was home early which should make Traci happy. He just hadn’t been able to keep it together any longer. On the way home he nearly fell asleep twice and it was not a long drive. He’d only barely remembered to pick the things up at the store she’d requested.
The house looked so peaceful when he pulled up into the driveway and he sat in his car a moment, just drinking it in. He had hoped to spend some time tonight going over the coded pages and seeing if he could discover anything about them. That just wasn’t in the cards, though. He w
as, however, immensely grateful that it was Traci’s turn to be on diaper duty.
He got out of the car and somehow made it to the front door, dragging his feet more with each step. He unlocked it, walked inside, and saw Traci in the kitchen, working away.
He closed the door, took a step forward, and right as Traci turned around he saw sparks flashing behind her and then something exploded.
13
Mark shouted as Traci screamed and covered her head. Mark lunged past her as he realized the source of the sparks. He turned off the microwave and yanked the door open. The husks of what might have been baked potatoes sat empty, their insides vaporized. They rested on top of a serving plate with fine gold metallic decorations around the border.
He turned to look at Traci who ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, and broke down sobbing. He held her in stunned silence, not sure what to say.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she finally managed to get out amidst the sobs.
“It’s not your fault, honey. It was an accident,” he said.
He was stunned, though. He’d never known her to have any kind of kitchen mishap let alone one involving metal in the microwave.
“All the dinner plates were dirty and I knew I had to hand wash two for dinner, and I just couldn’t handle washing one more, and I thought I’d use a serving plate.”
“And you didn’t realize the one you grabbed had metal on it.”
“I forgot. I’m forgetting so much lately.”
“It’s okay. We both are. It’s because our sleep schedules have been interrupted for so long. We’ll get through this, though. Rachel and Ryan won’t be infants forever.”
“I can’t be on diaper duty tonight, I just can’t,” she said, continuing to cry.
Mark winced. He had been counting on her handling that tonight since he was the walking dead. Instead he heard himself saying, “It’s okay, I can do it tonight.”
He glanced once more at the microwave, wondering how on earth the contents of the two potatoes had managed to vaporize. He’d seen a lot of frightening things in all his years as a cop, but that gave him the creeps.
“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch?” he suggested.
Traci nodded and he led her over there and sat down with her. She sank onto his chest and he held her. They were both so frazzled and they needed some time just for themselves.
“I was thinking that we need to get a babysitter so we can go out, just the two of us, for Valentine’s Day,” he said, hoping the thought would cheer her up.
Apparently he had guessed wrong as she started sobbing harder. He was bewildered, wondering how what he had suggested could be making things worse.
Finally Traci looked up at him. “I called everyone already and no one can do it.”
There was so much anguish on her face that he knew he had to do something, even if it was drastic. He chose his next words carefully. “I know we said we’d always just use friends and family, but I know there is a very reputable service that some of the guys at work have told me about, and the babysitters are all thoroughly screened, the works.”
“I already called them and everyone’s booked,” Traci said.
He was stunned to hear that. Even more than he, Traci had been adamant about not letting strangers take care of their children. It just went to show how desperate she was.
“Well, you know what, to heck with Valentine’s Day. I say we make our own Valentine’s Day. We’ll take off the weekend after, just the two of us, and have a little getaway. I’m sure we can twist someone’s arm into helping out after the holiday.”
“You mean it?” Traci asked.
“Of course I do. I’ll make all the arrangements, unless you want to pick where we’re going.”
“No, I don’t want to have to think or worry about one more thing. I’m sick of making a thousand decisions every day. I just want to forget it all and relax.”
“Then that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, it will all be just fine.”
She settled down and leaned her head on his shoulder, her tears drying up. He sat with his arm around her, offering whatever support and comfort was his to give. It was some kind of miracle that they hadn’t heard a peep from the twins during the entire meltdown.
“There’s a Valentine’s Day dinner at Cindy’s church. She said a lot of families go to it,” Traci said after a minute. “So, there’ll be a lot of other kids, but at least we could go out.”
“Then let’s do that,” he said.
“Okay.”
She was sounding a lot calmer. Not calm enough yet for him to be able to make a joke about the microwave, but definitely getting there.
As if she couldn’t stand not being the center of attention any longer Rachel let out a piercing scream from the other room. It was so loud and sudden that it made both Mark and Traci jump.
He thought about sitting still and praying that she would just decide to stop. A second blast, though, forced him up onto his feet and had him heading for the nursery.
Yoga and a small group session had been okay although Cindy felt like she’d been turned into a bit of a pretzel in the one and a knot of tension in the other. Their last afternoon session before dinner was with Dr. Carpenter, which would likely prove interesting.
They walked into Dr. Carpenter’s office. The dominating feature of the room was a big, comfy looking leather sofa. There was also a cherrywood desk, some file cabinets, and an equally comfortable looking leather chair that he was sitting in behind his desk. He was hunched over, intently studying some papers, and he did not lift his eyes.
“We will begin in one minute. First I will talk to each of you individually for fifteen minutes. Then I will talk to you both for thirty minutes. I will start with the woman first. The other one may wait outside until it is his turn.”
His word choice totally stunned and offended Cindy. “We do have names, you know?”
“Do you? We shall see,” he said, without looking up from the papers on his desk.
“I don’t want to go first,” Cindy objected, feeling rattled and more than a little creeped out.
“And yet you will go first because that is the way in which it is done.”
She turned to look at Jeremiah expecting to see him look as angry as she was. Instead his face was an absolute blank. She stared at him. How did he do that? She remembered that for the longest time it had been nearly impossible to read any of his emotions. She realized now that because of who he was and all his training that he had made an active effort to emote, particularly around her.
She appreciated it. Staring at him and not being able to get the least little hint as to what he was thinking or feeling was unnerving.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right outside,” Jeremiah said, his voice completely neutral.
She wanted to punch him in the arm because his tone did nothing to calm her down. She refrained, though, and went and sat on the couch. Jeremiah closed the door, sealing her in with the psychologist.
“Let’s get this over with,” Cindy said.
“Not for another 15 seconds,” he chided.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I never joke about time. Timing is everything, especially in relationships.”
“What do you mean?”
“One second you meet, another second you do not. You meet at the right time and you fall in love. You meet at the wrong time and you don’t. At the right time you can establish a relationship. At the wrong time you cannot. And when things begin to fall apart at the right time you can speak the words that will save it while at the wrong time you can’t.”
He finally looked up at her. “And this is now the right time to figure out where you and your boyfriend are, timewise.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, tell me, why do you love your boyfriend?”
“That’s none of your business,” Cindy snapped.
“Ah, but it is very much my business and this is
the time for you to find out if the relationship works for you. My dear, believe it or not I am on your side,” he said, his voice softening a little at the end.
Cindy took a deep breath. “He’s strong, smart, thoughtful, spiritual, fun. I feel safe when I’m with him.”
“And what happened to you as a child that feeling safe is such a driving force for you?”
She stared at him in surprise. “What makes you think something happened to me?”
“Because the first characteristic of his that you listed was that he was strong. And the thing that he makes you feel is safe. You didn’t say that he makes you feel excited or alive, loved or appreciated, ready to take on the world, supported or respected, or even beautiful. You said he makes you feel safe. That means that safety is a number one concern for you and the only people who have that as their number one concern in life are those who have felt truly unsafe in the past, generally as a result of something traumatic that happened to them as a child.”
“I, I thought I had gotten over my need to be safe,” Cindy blurted out, shocked at the revelation.
“No, my dear, you haven’t. You’ve just redefined safety for yourself and you’ve chosen this man to be your protector. You still have as great a need for safety as ever, but now you associate being with him as what keeps you safe. This allows you to probably engage in a great many more activities that have an element of risk in them than you once would have. You engage in these activities with confidence, not because you no longer need to feel safe but because as long as he is there you believe that you are safe regardless of what you’re doing.”
He was right. She knew it, felt it. Deep down she was still a scared little girl, but she’d found someone who she could trust to worry about her safety so that she didn’t have to.
“There is, on the surface, nothing wrong with finding a man who fulfills this need for you. We are all looking for life partners to fulfill particular needs. What we must keep in mind, though, particularly with someone like you who has an incredibly strong need for one thing in particular, is that we cannot sacrifice everything else to that need.”
Thou Art With Me Page 12