“Yes. They can tell by the scars on his body,” Michael said. He turned to Leah. “I believe there’s the one you gave him.” He pointed to the wide mark near his heart.
“It does not look like the man I killed.”
“Believe me, it is him,” Michael replied.
The sea had ravaged his face and arms.
“Help me with him,” he said. Titus moaned as they dragged him over to the casket. Michael rested for a brief moment. “He’s going to be heavy to lift.”
“We should make sure he dies,” Elizabeth said.
“No. Why?”
“Marcus said he should die like he did.”
“You were dreaming,” Michael said. “No one can talk to the dead.”
“I was not dreaming. I know the difference between dreaming and reality.” Elizabeth glared.
“Look, I don’t have time to deal with your moods right now,” he said, glancing around the courtyard to see if any other Romans were near. He leaned over the wall to see how many guards were near the front gate. He noticed Aharon several feet away, bending down by a bush, holding a torch.
He went back to the casket. “On the count of three we lift and drop him in the box. Got it?”
Elizabeth stared. “I understand.”
“Good.” He took a deep breath. “One, two, three.” Thump. Titus groaned.
Michael heard a commotion below and returned to the wall. There were several Romans leaving their post near the front gate. He could see Aharon waving his torch.
“Help Leah get to her husband. He is near the front gate, behind the brush to the right as you come out.”
“Where should I meet you?”
“Ask Aharon to take you to the fruit stand with the watermelons on the sides.”
“We are going home?”
He nodded. “Go now. I will be there shortly.” Michael watched Elizabeth help Leah down the stairs. He looked over the wall and gestured to Aharon to look for them. Michael was relieved when he saw Aharon, Leah and Elizabeth meet up a few minutes later.
He grabbed the coffin lid and placed it over Titus and Marcus. Michael could still see Titus breathing, his eyes glassy.
“I will chase you down.”
“It will not be today,” Michael said as he nailed it shut by pounding four small spikes with the bottom of his spear. He took the tip of the weapon and carved three holes into the wooden frame where Titus’ head was. He pressed his right eye to the opening and was satisfied with his work.
It was good enough. Now what, he wondered. Was he really going to leave him here? Michael knew if he escaped, Titus would surely come after him. Perhaps he should have killed him before. Of course, he could still kill him now.
Michael peeked through the small hole again and looked at Titus, staring in his menacing eyes. He knew Titus deserved to die, just like Marcus. From what he had seen, every single one of the Romans was the same. All they seemed to care about was oppressing, raping and killing. He had never observed any of them give a thought to the suffering they caused.
He pulled up a spike and started to lift the lid off with his spear. He stopped suddenly, wondering what in the world he was doing. Was he about to take a life? It would be first-degree murder in any century. He was shocked he was even considering it. What was going on in his head? He would never have thought like this in the past. Was he going to let this Roman darken his heart? What kind of effect was this world having on him?
Michael muttered, “I hate this world!” He shoved the last spike back into the corner and dragged the box under a small covering, out of view. Racing over to the wall, he stood on his toes and looked down. He saw Aharon, Elizabeth and Leah moving toward the city wall. They turned and looked up at him. He waved frantically and motioned for them to go farther. Elizabeth hesitated, turning several times to look at Michael. He gestured each time to keep moving.
When he saw they were safe, he returned to the stairway and mapped out a plan of action. He’d stay calm and continue to act like one of the Roman soldiers. He must find a way out of the fortress, meet the others by the fruit stand, and leave.
Two soldiers were rising, stumbling around. Four more had stripped down and were heading out the front gate. Perfect. He followed the group of six and took off his helmet like the rest. He groaned and rubbed his head. “What a night of celebration.”
“Has any man seen Titus?” a soldier asked.
They all shook their heads.
“Odd,” the soldier said. “He is supposed to give us our silver for grabbing the Jew widow.” He took a couple of steps back toward the front gate. “I am not getting cheated out of my silver.”
“I will join you,” another soldier said, putting his helmet back on.
One soldier glanced at him, fell to his knees and vomited. The remaining men moved toward the baths. Michael walked past the soldier and pushed his face into the dirt. “Best you stay down there for a while,” he said.
“Ugh,” the soldier said, coughing up some mud.
“Consider it breakfast in bed.” He pushed the Roman back into the wet mess again. “There’s your dessert.”
He watched the men remove their clothes and walk down into the baths. I’d better move as soon as possible. Michael walked to the last one at the far end of the facility. He waited until every other Roman had submerged in the water. Since no one was paying attention to him, he removed his armor. He squinted and looked up at the top of the Antonia Fortress. There was still some darkness on the horizon. He squinted again and didn’t see anyone. He caressed his chain and cross and tucked it inside his shirt. Now is the time to go.
He made his way inside the city wall. He came upon a lone man organizing some fruit on a stand. “Sir,” Michael said, “I am to meet my family here. Have you seen two women and a man?”
The man put the melons down and came out from behind the stand. “They were taken away by some soldiers.”
“Where?”
“The soldiers spoke amongst themselves.”
“What did they say?”
The man didn’t respond.
Michael pulled out some silver and showed him. “Tell me, or I will throw every melon on the ground.”
“You risk much in threatening me.”
Michael picked up two melons.
“Stop,” the man said. “They are taking them to Rome.”
Panic seized Michael. He swatted a lone melon sitting atop a wooden counter, and it broke into several pieces. The man grabbed at his hand.
“Take your silver,” Michael said, placing it on the counter. “Where do they ship from?”
“Caesarea. You must move and do not waste any steps,” the man said.
It’s not like I have a GPS available, Michael thought. “How do I get to Caesarea?” he asked the man.
“Follow the smell of the sea. The city is not far from there. You will know when you get there. It is not like here. It is big and beautiful.”
Michael became dizzy and grabbed onto the ledge of the stand.
“Are you ill, sir?” the man asked.
“Do you know the fastest way to Caesarea? My daughter was taken. I need to get my daughter home now.”
The man returned his money. “You will need this to get your family back,” he said. “Silver is your greatest weapon with the Romans.”
“Thank you.”
As he began walking, he noticed the sun was almost up. Michael was hopeful he would be able to spot them easier with the help of the additional light. He passed the aqueduct and saw eight Romans scouring the neighborhood. Michael hid behind a well, the same one where he aided Leah when she was sick. He scooped some water out of a bucket and splashed it on his face. Peering around the well, he saw two Romans were pilfering Leah’s house.
He waited until he saw the Romans go upstairs and then made his way to Abel’s
home. “I need your help. The Romans took my daughter, Leah and Aharon. They are to be taken to Caesarea.”
“I will take you halfway there.” Abel gathered up a couple of weapons, put some bread in a pouch and then tied it around his waist. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as one can be.”
Abel stepped outside his home but held up his hand when he noticed a Roman soldier shouting at a man herding sheep in his front yard. Abel turned to Michael and quietly said, “Come this way.”
Michael quickly followed him behind his home.
“This is the only safe path,” Abel said. “It is rough in some areas. There are not many travelers going this way.”
“Mountains?”
Abel shook his head. “The wind off the sea.” He handed Michael a piece of ripped cloth. “You will need this to cover your face.”
Chapter 28
Modern-Day Long Island
Connie indulged in a piece of chocolate cake. She soaked up the taste by rolling it slowly in her mouth, allowing it to sit as long as possible on her tongue. She scraped the last bit of icing off the plate with her finger much like she did as a child dipping into fresh cake batter. She swallowed the remaining water and checked her phone.
“How are you, honey?” asked the waitress. “Can I get you another piece?”
“On the house?”
The waitress smiled. “If you want.”
Connie laughed. “Nah. I’m starting my diet now. Thank you. The chocolate cake came at the right time.”
“I’m glad. I wasn’t sure if those were happy tears or breakup tears.”
“Was I crying?”
“Oh, yeah,” the waitress said, sitting down.
“I guess things can always be better. So I’m hoping.”
“Good.”
Connie picked up her purse and took out her wallet. As the waitress left, she placed a ten-dollar bill on the table.
She stood and saw Hewitt sitting alone in the corner. She slung her purse over her shoulder and stormed toward him. “Well, well, look at what dregs have crawled into one of Northport’s finest drinking establishments. Who are you bullying today, King Hewitt? What peasants are you blackmailing?”
Hewitt lowered his head and fingered his drink.
“Are you FBI guys supposed to be tying one on in the middle of an investigation? My niece and brother are missing and you’re sitting in here partying.”
Hewitt looked up and took a sip.
“Cat got your tongue?”
He finished the drink with his next swallow.
“Whoa. Take it easy there, big fellow. It’s a little too early to start drinking. Hold on. Keep drinking.” Connie put her purse down on the table, dug around inside, and pulled out her cell phone. “Smile, jerk.” She sat down and snapped a few pictures. “Let me get the glass in the picture too.” She took a few more shots. “I bet you never thought you would be modeling for me today, did you?”
“Gina,” Hewitt called out to the waitress. He put his hand up in the air, holding the empty glass. “Another vodka.” He looked back at Connie. “Make sure you take a few as I drink.”
“Aren’t we brave?”
“Will that satisfy you?”
Gina brought another glass of vodka.
“Are you staying?” Gina asked Connie.
She leaned back and exhaled. “Yeah. This looks interesting. I’ll have some of the bubbly stuff.”
“Champagne?”
“Seltzer.”
“It’s on me,” said Hewitt, dropping a twenty on her tray.
“Why thanks, sir. I didn’t realize you were a gentleman. Sorry about the tirade,” Connie said with sarcastic bite.
“No, you’re not.”
Connie frowned. “Wow, you can read my mind. Yeah, you’re right. You’re a jerk. I think my hate level for you is as high as it goes. Speaking of high, what’s with the drinking party?”
Gina placed a seltzer on top of a small napkin and pushed it over to Connie.
Hewitt took a couple of gulps of the vodka.
“Yikes,” Connie said as she sipped her seltzer. “Take it from an expert. Drinking will never solve your problems. And I’ve had a lot of problems as you know.”
Hewitt took off his jacket and threw it on a chair behind him. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed his bright blue tie, stuffing it into his top pocket.
“What happened?” Connie asked. “Oh no,” she said as her mind wandered into terrible scenarios. “Did something happen to Michael and Elizabeth? Were they found? Are they dead?”
Hewitt shook his head.
“Oh, thank God.”
He motioned to Gina for another drink as Connie continued to sip her seltzer. “Don’t you think you should finish that one first before drinking another?”
He frowned and held the glass up to his face. “Does it really matter?”
“Yes. It matters that you have your wits about yourself so you can find my brother and niece.”
Gina brought another glass of vodka. As she turned away, Connie grabbed it. “Look, I’m not your mother or your friend, but don’t force me to call a cop. I know we haven’t gotten off to a great start but I need you too. I love my brother. I adore my niece. You drinking yourself into oblivion won’t help find them.”
Hewitt reached across the table, snatched the glass from Connie’s hand and took a big gulp.
Connie grabbed her cell phone. Hewitt grasped her hand, pressing it down. “Wait,” he said. He held the glass up to his mouth. “Okay, take it. I’ll give you my boss’ email so you can send it to him.”
She pulled her hand away and texted Susan. I’m at Jax. Come ASAP. FBI dude drinking up a storm. Need your help.
Hewitt wrote on a business card. He slid it over to Connie. “The email is on the back.”
She pushed it back to him. “No. You’re going to do me no good if you’re fired and slobbering over more drinks. I need the arrogant SOB back because it’s the only way you will find Michael and Elizabeth. And I’m going to help you.”
“How are you going to help me?”
“I have some info on the pastor.”
Hewitt buttoned up his shirt. “I’m listening.”
“Promise you never heard it from me. My brother would kill me if he knew I was telling you this.”
Hewitt nodded.
“I was told when the pastor got his divorce, he decided to leave his insurance to Elizabeth and not his kids.”
Hewitt sat back.
“Isn’t that crazy?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s best friends with your brother. Maybe his relationship was terrible with his wife and kids. I’ve heard of worst things involved with divorces, things that would really twist your mind. This I know.”
“Really?”
Hewitt nodded. “Write the name of the wife down.”
“Give me your card back.”
He pushed it toward her and rolled a pen in the same direction.
She wrote “Cathy Evans” and returned the card.
“Where does she live?”
“Not far from here. Greenlawn.”
“Have you ever met her? What does she look like?”
“No. Never met or spoke to her.”
“What about Michael? Did he ever talk about this?”
“No. But my brother would never talk about stuff like this to me.”
Hewitt got up. “I’ll check it out.” He stepped outside.
Connie watched him talk on the phone near the front door.
Her cell phone beeped. “About time, Susan. What took you so long?” she said out loud, looking at her screen. Delayed. Is the GQ hunk hitting on u? He he. Go for it ;) Meet later? She battered the iPhone with her thumbs. He’s wasted. No go. Ha ha. TTYL. Fake hugs. Hewitt retu
rned as Susan’s response rang. Connie took a quick peek. Later, Gator.
He sat down and stretched his legs. “The boys in the computer room are working on it.”
“Could be something, right?” she asked.
“Could be nothing.”
Connie leaned forward. “You can tell me. Did this case drive you to drink?”
He hesitated. “Yes. In a way.” His phone rang, and he looked at the screen. He answered it and ran to the front door. Just like a man. Always running out on a business call. Enough of this. I’m leaving. Connie grabbed her purse and dropped her phone inside. She left another ten-dollar bill. “See you soon, Gina,” she said while waving.
“See ya, sister.”
Connie approached the door, hoisted the big bag over her shoulder and went outside. She noticed Hewitt bent over at the side of the building, his hands covering his face. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. She watched his shoulders tremble up and down.
“Are you sick? There’s a bathroom inside. Here, let me help you.” She reached under his arm and tried to budge him. “Hey, FBI guy, help me out a bit. I’m a tiny tot. You’re a grown man.”
Hewitt shook off her grip and covered his face.
Chapter 29
First-century Jerusalem
As darkness descended, Michael kept his head skyward, walking a few steps behind Abel. It was so peaceful he could hear the crackling of wood burning in the distance from homes. He stopped for a brief moment to watch a star race across the horizon. He recalled the moments back home at Crab Meadow Beach in the winter. Through tearing eyes, numb fingers and toes, he would sit on the boardwalk bench for about ten minutes and appreciate the beauty of God’s landscape.
“I can smell the sea,” said Abel, stopping. He turned and tied a piece of cloth over his face.
Michael dug his cloth out of his pocket and did the same.
“The sand can hit you hard,” Abel said as he started walking again.
“You are a good friend. I am going to miss you.”
“Will you not return?”
“I do not know. I must find my friends and take my daughter home.”
The Greatest Gift Page 11