“I want to go with her.”
“We're full up back here. Follow us to County General,” the paramedic said before closing the door and heading for the driver's seat.
Jeremiah gritted his teeth in anger. His car was still at the park. “But I don't have a car.”
“Sorry guy, you need to find another ride.”
How about I kill you and take your ride? Jeremiah turned, and his eyes fell on Cindy's car where it was half parked on the lawn. The door stood open. He walked over and discovered her purse and cell phone inside, but there was no sign of her keys. She probably had them with her, but it didn't hurt to check and see if she had left them in one of the doors.
He closed the car door and headed back to the main gate of the church. There were no keys in the lock. He didn't remember any keys in the youth room, but he went over to double check. He removed the door stop and swung the door wide, but didn't go in.
He turned and glanced at the other doors he had not tried earlier. One of them stood open, and he guessed it was where the killer had been hiding. He walked over and discovered that it was a janitor's closet. He checked the other side of the door and found her keys dangling from the lock. He removed them, careful not to touch anything else as he did so.
As he turned to leave his eyes fell on the soda machine. Just on the other side of it, hidden in the shadows, were the bodies of two women, dressed and ready to play their part in the crucifixion scene.
He returned to the front of the church and told Paul what he had seen. The detective looked sick. Jeremiah climbed into Cindy's car, started it up, and peeled out for the hospital.
His phone rang, and when he answered he wasn't surprised to hear Mark's voice. “Are you heading to the hospital?”
“Yes, why?” There was something in the detective's voice that Jeremiah didn't like.
“I saw the two women whose bodies you found.”
“Yes, and?”
“And something really bothered me about the setup.”
“What?” Jeremiah asked.
“I double checked with a couple of the pastors here. Traditionally, there are three named women at the crucifixion. Three women. Two bodies. And there were extra clothes for a third.”
Realization hit Jeremiah hard. “He didn't use Cindy because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“He meant for her to be the third woman,” Mark said.
“How soon can you get to the hospital?”
“Not soon enough. You got it?”
“I got it,” Jeremiah growled before hanging up.
He stepped on the gas and blew through a red light. He heard the squeal of tires around him, but he didn't care. If the killer wanted Cindy dead, it would be easy enough to accomplish. Since she might have seen his face, killing her would be that much more of a priority for him.
A minute later Jeremiah drove into the parking lot next to the emergency room, grabbed the first space he saw, and sprinted into the building. He ran up to the admissions nurse. “I'm here with Cindy Preston. She was just brought in by ambulance.”
“Take a seat, sir, and someone will be with you in a moment,” the nurse told him.
“I must be allowed to see her now,” he insisted. “The ambulance driver told me to follow him over. It's very urgent.”
“I'm sorry, sir, you will just have to wait. It won't be too long.”
In a world with a serial killer, he had already been standing there discussing it with this woman for too long. His hand moved toward his phone as he considered having Mark tell her to let him in as part of the ongoing police investigation. “I have to get in there,” he said.
The woman looked at him through narrowed eyes, her temper flaring. “I'm sorry, sir, but unless you're a blood relative, I can't let you in until a doctor clears it.”
“I'm her husband.”
“Can I see some identification?”
He pulled out his driver's license and handed it to her. “Mr. Silverman?” she questioned.
“Newlyweds, just back from our honeymoon. She hasn't gotten her name changed on everything yet.”
The woman continued to stare at him skeptically. He set his jaw and met her eyes squarely. “If you don't believe me, call Detective Mark Walters, Pine Springs Police Department. He was the best man, and he'll verify it. I can give you his number if you'd like.”
She backed down. “Okay.”
She hit a button, and the door next to the counter unlocked. He was through it in a flash. “Follow me,” she said, leading him past several beds until he saw Cindy.
“Thank you.” Relieved, he sank down into a chair positioned next to the head of the bed.
“I hope your wife is okay,” the nurse said, her voice softening.
“Me too.”
After she left Jeremiah studied Cindy's face. They had hooked her up to an impressive array of machines. He prayed for her, specifically that she would wake up soon. The longer she lay unconscious following a blow to the head the worse her chances of survival.
Come on, Cindy. Wake up and tell me what this guy looks like. Tell me where I can find him. I'll rip him apart with my bare hands for you. Just tell me who he is.
In his mind he went over everything that had just happened. The Last Supper, the Garden of Gethsemane, and now the Crucifixion, all within a few hours of each other. The killer had missed a few steps, most notably the trial of Jesus, and the crowd choosing for Jesus to die. Was he getting it right? He had studied the Christian scriptures once years earlier. He'd also seen that Mel Gibson movie, mostly because he'd wanted to hear the Aramaic.
He touched her hand and then leaned close to whisper. “Come on, Cindy. Wake up and tell me all about the Messiah and how he's already come. Then help me figure out what this mad man is going to do next.”
“Let's take a look,” a doctor said, drawing the privacy curtain partway around. “I'm Doctor Kim.”
“Jeremiah,” he said, shaking the man's hand.
“Tell me what happened to her.”
“She was attacked. The man hit her on the head. I think she also broke her foot.”
The doctor's eyes widened as he looked from Jeremiah to Cindy. His face hardened for a moment. “This man wouldn't happen to be you, would it?”
Jeremiah felt his self-control slipping. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. “A serial killer the police are tracking. Detective Mark Walters can vouch for that.”
“I'd heard rumors,” the doctor said, backing down.
“It's okay.”
“Most times we see a young woman in here in this kind of condition it's either a car accident or spousal abuse.”
The doctor examined her briefly. “You're right. Her foot is broken. She'll need a cast.”
“What about the head injury?”
“We took some films. It appears to be a concussion. She should be okay as long as she wakes up in the next few hours. I'll schedule an MRI, just to make sure.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” Jeremiah said.
“Don't worry. She'll get the best care possible.”
“Good. There's also a concern that the guy who did this might be back to finish what he started,” Jeremiah said.
“I'll alert the staff to keep a close watch,” the doctor said. “I'll be back shortly to put a cast on that foot.”
A few minutes later Mark appeared, escorted by the same nurse who had let Jeremiah in. As soon as she had left Mark pulled up a second chair on the other side of the bed.
“Mazal tov.”
“What?” Jeremiah asked.
“Next time I'm your best man, let me know. I'd like to make a toast or something. You know, maybe attend the wedding.” Mark smirked.
“You're a jerk. Did you know that?” Jeremiah asked.
“Yes, I've been told it's one of my better qualities.”
“Don't believe it.”
“How is she?”
“It's mostly a waiting game at this point,” Jeremi
ah said. “They'll run some tests, but as long as she wakes up in a few hours she'll probably be fine.”
“I hate this whole mess. I'm so ready to be done with Easter,” Mark said.
“Did I miss anything?”
“The two guys on the other crosses?”
“Yeah?”
“Thieves. Actual thieves. Can you believe it?”
“Anyone concerned that this guy seems to have skipped ahead a bit in the narrative of the story?”
“You noticed that too?” Mark asked. “I don't know what it means.”
“How's Oliver?”
“He'll live. He's pretty messed up, though. I just stopped in to look at him. They have him so doped up he won't be worth anything in the foreseeable future.”
“That's a shame, because there's something I'd like to ask him,” Jeremiah said.
“What's that?”
“What did he do to this guy?”
Mark nodded. “Crazy is crazy, but I'm inclined to agree with you. I think you'd really have to hate a guy's guts to nail him up on a cross and leave him to die.”
“Maybe not a couple of thousand years ago, but this seems very personal. I think things have been leading to this for some time.”
“Makes you wonder what Cindy stumbled into, doesn't it?”
“You staying here for a while?” Jeremiah asked.
“Yeah, you need to get going?”
“I'll be needed at the synagogue as word spreads about the Schullers.”
“Yeah, I would imagine. Go on, I'll watch her.”
Jeremiah looked him over. “No offense, but I think you need to get some sleep instead.”
“Probably a good idea. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better. I'll have some uniforms come watch her.”
Jeremiah hesitated.
“What is it?” Mark asked, yawning.
“I saw what happened to the last couple of officers you assigned to watch someone.”
The detective grimaced.
17
JEREMIAH CONSIDERED DRIVING TO THE PARK AND TRADING OUT CARS, but a glance at the clock on the dashboard convinced him he had no time to waste. He drove to the synagogue, doing his best to calm his mind so that he would be able to help others. He ran through a few breathing techniques and slowly brought his emotions under control.
It was a good thing. When he pulled into the parking lot, there were already more than a dozen cars there and Marie was calling his cell. “I'm here. I'll be inside in three minutes,” he said, then hung up before she could respond.
Inside the office he found Paul questioning Marie about the Schullers. Jeremiah gave him a brief nod before walking into his office. He sat down in his chair, took a deep breath, and prepared for the onslaught. There was a soft knock on his door after a minute, and Jeremiah looked up to see Olivia Schuller standing there.
He jumped to his feet and crossed to her. He steered her inside and into a chair and then closed the door. “Olivia, you should be at—”
She looked up at him with pain-filled eyes, and he stopped speaking. He had been about to tell her she should be at home, but that was the last place she should be.
“Do you have other family members you should call?” he asked quietly, hoping there was someone who could be with her.
She nodded. “My cousin. She won't be here until tomorrow. Rabbi, why did this happen?”
Because bad things happen to good people. Because some crazy guy has a grudge to settle. Because police in four states couldn't put an end to a killing spree spanning nearly a decade. Because your parents were warm, generous people, and I gave them my blessing to invite the neighbors over. Because it was their time to go. Because suffering is common to the children of Israel. Because no one is ever truly safe.
He rejected every answer as they crowded his brain. None of them would help the young woman sitting in front of him. His words in the next few minutes and her experiences in the next few days would dictate whether or not she would ever again know happiness or peace or safety.
He reached out and took her hand and looked her in the eyes. “Olivia, I do not know why Adonai chose to let this happen. I do know this, there is a purpose for you on this earth, work for you to do, joy for you to own, and sorrows for you to share. If this were not true, you would have been allowed to go with them.”
“You really believe that, Rabbi?” she asked.
He closed his eyes for a moment and saw the faces of everyone he had ever lost. Friends, family, colleagues. “I have to,” he said, unable to fight the huskiness that crept into his voice. “The first duty of the living is to continue to live.”
She nodded, and he knew that she understood. “You're going to be okay,” he told her.
He prayed with her, using the moments to regain his composure. He would not have wished Olivia to be the first of his congregation to have to speak with that day, but he was glad that it had happened that way.
When they were finished talking he led her back into the main office. Paul had left, and Marie answered multiple phone lines. When she turned and saw Olivia her jaw dropped and she put her caller on hold. Jeremiah smiled. Somehow Olivia had walked past Marie unseen as evidenced by Marie's surprise at seeing her now. Good for her. Normally it was impossible to bypass his gatekeeper.
“Olivia has a cousin arriving in town tomorrow. Until then—”
“Say no more. Olivia, you'll stay with us. Let me just give Eric a call, and he can pick you up here.”
Olivia looked questioningly at Jeremiah, and he nodded approval. “That's just what I had in mind,” he said. Despite her flaws, there was no one better than Marie when someone was in trouble and needed a safe harbor. She and her family were always the first to respond in the face of tragedy with compassion and generosity that were overwhelming.
If only he had communicated Cindy's trauma and need more clearly, the Seder might have gone a lot smoother, he realized. A lesson learned.
A few minutes later he helped Olivia into Eric's car. Returning to the office he pulled a chair up next to Marie's desk. “How bad is it?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Everyone knows.”
“And I'm assuming that really does mean everyone?”
She nodded. “I've had calls from at least one member of every family.”
“And what have you been saying?”
“I've confirmed the deaths only. I've told them that for more information about what happened or services, they'll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“So, they'll be expecting an announcement from me.”
“Yes.”
“Good enough. Couldn't do much better than that. Anyone stop by besides Olivia?”
“No, but the police just left, so I suspect they'll start coming out of the woodwork.”
“I think you're right about that. Well, let's see what we can do to take control early.”
“Fifteen minutes per person?”
“Yes.”
“I know you hate that,” Marie said earnestly, “but not everyone will respect the fact that there are others besides them that will need to talk.”
“I know.”
“If we get more than three waiting at a time, I'll cut that to ten-minute meetings,” she warned.
“Sounds fair.”
“Is there anything I can get for you?”
“Yes, can you have some food delivered? I ate a long time ago, and I need some fuel.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thanks, Marie. I'll be in the office.”
The hospital staff transferred Cindy to a room, and Mark went with her. He kept tabs on Oliver's condition and was pleased when he heard that the little girl had been released with only three stitches. Paul had a chance to talk to her and he had stopped by Cindy's room to let Mark know that she hadn't seen his face.
Cindy was still their best shot at identifying the killer. What Jeremiah had said about the officers who had been assigned to watch Oliver had struck a ner
ve, and Mark had decided that he would wait until Cindy woke up. He had already been over everything in the war room a dozen times and wasn't likely to come up with anything new there.
He dozed on and off as he waited. At noon he got a call from Jeremiah's secretary wanting an update on Cindy's status. He told her there was no change, and she informed him that he should call as soon as she woke up. He smiled as he hung up with her. Jeremiah's secretary sounded like someone he wouldn't want to cross.
A knock on the door made him look up. He recognized one of the staff members from First Shepherd. He was pretty sure it was the youth pastor. He carried a bouquet of flowers.
“Is it okay if I come in?” he asked.
Mark nodded. “Wildman, right?”
The pastor flushed. “Yeah, but you can call me Dave.”
“Okay, Dave.”
“You're Detective Walters, yeah?”
“Yeah, name's Mark.”
“Cool. Is she going to be okay?” he said, looking at Cindy.
Mark had to admit that she didn't look good. She was white as a ghost, and the bandages on her head did nothing to bring any color to her cheeks. An array of tubes had been hooked up to her arms and pumped oxygen into her nose. A large and clunky cast dwarfed her broken foot. Bandages covered both hands and arms. She looked like half of a mummy.
“I sincerely hope so. The truth is the next few hours will tell us a lot. How are things at the church?”
“How do you think?” Dave said, rolling his eyes. “It's a madhouse, and the lunatics are running the place.”
“By lunatics do you mean the head pastor and the music pastor?”
“How did you know?” Dave asked. He looked genuinely surprised.
“They struck me as not enjoying each other's company all that much.”
“I'm not sure either of them actually went to kindergarten. They have no concept of what sharing is.”
“Tell me how you really feel, Dave,” Mark said.
It wasn't his most professional line of questioning, but he was so exhausted he couldn't even reach for his notepad. He also had a feeling that something official might scare off the youth pastor.
Dave sighed and sat in a chair. “You really want to know what I think?”
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