“It’s been other times, too. I had it the day we left for Green Pastures, but I ignored it, told myself I was crazy.”
“Only you weren’t,” she said softly, fear rippling through her.
“I wasn’t. I should have listened.”
“You had no way of knowing what was going to happen or where or to whom. For all you knew it could have been something that was going to happen here or to a cousin halfway across the country.”
“I know. That’s what I tell myself when I start to freak out. This is the first time in a year-and-a-half that I’ve had that feeling, though. And I don’t want to ignore it this time and assume that everything is going to be okay.”
Cindy didn’t know what to say, how to help him. “Have you prayed about it?”
“I was up half the night last night doing just that. Unfortunately I don’t have any more clarity about what it could possibly be that’s wrong.”
She told herself that it was just the power of suggestion, or the memory of what she’d felt when she was in the basement the day before, but suddenly her stomach was also twisting in knots and she felt like she wanted to throw up. She said a quick prayer as she struggled to regain mastery over herself.
“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly.
“No, I’m a little freaked out to be honest,” she told him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t know what to do and I needed to talk to somebody about this. Somehow you seemed like the right person.”
“I’m glad you could share with me. I just wish I knew what I could do to make you feel better or to stop whatever might be about to happen.”
“Believe me, I understand,” he said, sounding suddenly old and tired.
There was a loud crashing sound behind them and Cindy jerked around.
“What in tarnation is going on in here?” Carl bellowed, his voice echoing around the gym.
Cindy jumped and then faced him with a grimace. “We’re just working on the haunted house.”
“It looks like you’re cleaning up a mess to me,” he said, his voice only a notch below a shout.
“No messes here, just creation,” she said defiantly. She wasn’t in the mood for one of his temper tantrums.
She saw his eyes drift to the ceiling and she forced herself to stand her ground when he looked back at her.
“Make sure you clean it up then,” he growled before turning and leaving the room.
“Thanks,” Dave said, once the door had closed behind him.
“You’re welcome. I figured neither of us really needed to deal with him today.”
“You figured right. I know where he keeps the extra tall ladder. After he’s left today I’ll get it out and clean the ceiling.”
“I think that might be a good idea,” she agreed. “At least we’ve almost got the rest done.”
“Thank you, for everything,” he said.
“That’s what friends are for,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. Inside, though, she was worrying about what he had told her about his feelings that something bad was going to happen. All she could do was pray that he was wrong.
When Mark had gotten into the office in the morning he’d discovered that they finally had an identification for the murdered girl. Her name was Cheyenne and she was seventeen, a high school senior who had been reported missing yesterday morning by her parents.
He went to see them and the visit made him sick to his stomach. He’d talked to lots of parents of victims before, just never when the victim was so young. He spent the entire time thinking about his own children and what he would be feeling if he was in their shoes and one of his children had been killed. It made it hard to stay on task and he silently cursed Liam for being on vacation.
In the end her parents had been no help at all. Their daughter was a nice girl, homeschooled, no close friends. At least, not any that they knew about. Then again, sometimes parents were the last to know what was really going on with their kids. Again he found himself worrying about his own children even though they were just babies.
When he’d finally finished talking with them he had no new leads to follow. He checked with the coroner but there was nothing new on that end either. The man was still running tests, taking samples.
Waiting was the part of the job that Mark hated the most. He did manage to swing by and pick up the crime scene photos he’d asked for duplicates of so that he could get Jeremiah’s help with translation. Once he’d done that, he called the rabbi.
“Free for an afternoon meeting?” Mark asked.
“About the symbols?”
“Yes.”
“I can be available at four.”
“Perfect.” It wasn’t. He was antsy and wanted to do something now. He realized, though, that this would give him an opportunity to at least follow up on a few leads about Lizzie. “Any chance you can meet me at the park downtown? I’ll be there checking a few things out.”
“Okay.”
Mark hung up and headed for the park. Michelle had mentioned that the coven met there near the big Redwood tree. He had checked and the full moon had been two nights before. It was a full moon the night the girl was killed, sacrificed, or whatever it had been. The very thought made him sick inside.
He was only about fifteen minutes away from the park and he made his way there, trying to keep his mind from playing worst case scenarios over and over again. That wasn’t doing anyone any good, least of all him.
Once he had parked downtown he got out and strolled into the park. He could see half a dozen joggers from where he was walking. It was not the most secure or isolated location to hold a coven meeting, but then again the place was a lot more empty at night.
He made his way over to the Redwood tree and circled it slowly. He had no idea what he was looking for; he just hoped he’d know it when he saw it. After a minute he crouched down to get a better look at the dirt. He found a bit of candle wax. He kept going and a couple of feet away found a bit more. He kept moving until he had traced a rough circle connected by bits of candle wax. There were twelve piles of it and he wondered if that meant there had been twelve people present or if that was just the number of candles that had been set out to mark the circle.
He needed to find someone in the coven who would talk to him about Lizzie. He hadn’t given up hope that she was safe and sound somewhere, oblivious to the fact that there were people worried about her.
He continued to inspect the area, but found nothing else of interest. He finally gave up and realized he was starving because he had missed lunch. Jeremiah would be there shortly, though, so he’d have to wait a few more minutes.
He sat down on a bench and tried to still his mind. He felt like it had been racing since he’d first seen Cheyenne’s body in the basement yesterday. A couple minutes later he heard someone walk up beside him and he looked up.
“You have the pictures?” Jeremiah asked without preamble.
“Hello to you, too,” Mark said. He handed him the envelope and he was grateful that the rabbi didn’t open it right away. He wasn’t in the mood to see the images again, especially not at that moment.
His phone pinged and he pulled it out. Traci had sent a text.
Found a perfect Breathless dress for you.
He shook his head as though she could see him and texted back. You mean for you. He put his phone away and stood up as his stomach growled.
“Everything okay?” Jeremiah asked.
“Yeah, Traci and I have just been having a discussion about what costumes we’re wearing to Joseph and Geanie’s party. What are you going as?”
“I don’t know.”
“You could go as a bullfrog.”
“What?” Jeremiah said, gazing at him like he’d gone insane.
“Because of the song. You know, Jeremiah...bullfrog? Joy to the World?”
“You know that’s not even my real name, right?”
“Forget it,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “You’r
e not even any fun to tease these days.”
He turned to go, but Jeremiah put a hand on his shoulder.
Mark turned.
“I’m...sorry,” Jeremiah said as though it was torture to get the words out.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Mark said sarcastically.
On the street a car backfired. Jeremiah dropped into a crouch and turned, his hand going to the back of his waistband. Just for a split second Mark saw the flash of metal before Jeremiah moved his hand and stood up.
7
“You’re packing, aren’t you?” Mark asked, unable to hide the shock in his voice.
Jeremiah turned and gave him a steely look, but said nothing.
Mark took a step closer and dropped his voice. “Why are you carrying a gun?”
“It’s a dangerous world, Detective.”
Mark wanted to hit him. He hated that Jeremiah more often than not called him Detective ever since he’d been back from Israel. It put artificial distance between them. It made him feel like they were strangers instead of friends.
“You listen to me. You are not okay. What happened over there messed you up good. Now you need to talk about it.”
The corner of Jeremiah’s mouth quirked up. “You want to counsel me?”
“I know, I wasn’t easy on you when you needed to counsel me so I could go back on active duty on the force after I tortured that guy. But you stuck with it, and you made me talk, and that was what I needed. And don’t think that it hasn’t been on my mind that when you told me you understood and would have done the same thing that you weren’t just speaking as a rabbi or some normal guy, but that you were a freaking spy and that killing came easy to you. Don’t think that didn’t mess me up a bit, having something like that in common with you once I realized all that.”
“I’m not like you, Detective. Talking won’t help fix me.”
“No? Well, guess what, not talking certainly isn’t doing the trick so let’s try it the other way for a while and just see. Okay?”
“Fine.”
“Okay, I’m starved. Let’s go get something to eat and talk things over.”
Jeremiah didn’t protest so Mark turned and headed out of the park. He was relieved and a little surprised when the other man followed. They crossed the street and walked into a pub that Mark knew. It had good food and lots of it.
They grabbed a table and Mark ordered a beer and a burger. Jeremiah just shook his head at the waitress.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” Mark asked.
“You don’t want me to drink,” Jeremiah said. “I lose control and someone’s going to get hurt.”
“You need to loosen up,” Mark said. “I’m not saying get drunk, just find some way to de-stress a bit. What helps you relax?”
Jeremiah just stared at him stonily. He wasn’t going to make this easy. Mark rolled his eyes. “Sports, games?” His eyes drifted to the dartboard on the wall. “A good game of darts?”
“Darts? You’re asking me to play a game of darts?”
“Yes. I’m asking you to play a game of darts.”
Mark got up, walked over to the dartboard, and retrieved the darts from it. He returned and placed them on the table. He threw three, getting reasonably close to the bullseye, then took his seat and looked at Jeremiah.
Jeremiah stood, picked up a dart and jiggled it up and down in his hand. “Balance is off,” he commented.
“How can you tell?” Mark asked.
“Experience.” Jeremiah flipped the dart around and raised his arm. He was holding the dart with the pointed end facing away from the target. Before Mark could comment the rabbi threw the dart hard. It twirled in midair then buried itself in the bullseye. In rapid succession he did the same with the other two before sitting back down.
“See, that was fun,” Mark said, forcing a smile.
“I’m not much of a game player,” Jeremiah said, glaring at him.
The waitress brought Mark’s beer and he sipped it gratefully. More than wanting to actually drink he wanted a moment to think through what he was going to say next.
He set the glass down slowly. “We’ve had a strange relationship since the beginning, you and I. We’ve been through a lot together, and honestly, it’s reached the point where I count you as one of my closest friends. I didn’t always know everything about you, but I didn’t need to. I knew your character, your heart, and I knew enough to know that what was behind you wasn’t pretty. I know that all of that came back to bite you in the butt and you’re struggling with how to find yourself again.”
“Or lose myself,” Jeremiah said so quietly that he barely heard him.
“Or let go of the old,” Mark said, refusing to acknowledge that the man he had known for years was not the real Jeremiah. “What you’re having is the classic Superman/Clark Kent problem.”
“Excuse me?”
“Which one is the real person, is the costume the disguise or are the glasses the disguise?”
“They both are to some extent.”
“True, but the thing is, it’s not one or the other. Clark Kent is just as real and just as much a part of his personality as Superman is. It’s just the milder, more regular citizen version. He’s still fighting for truth and justice, he’s just doing it in the same way that regular people can. He loves Lois and doesn’t love her any less when he puts on the tights. You have a past. Fine. It’s part of who you are. But the rabbi who cares about people and helps his community is the same man who fought for his country and did what he could to help that community. You’re making the world a better place in both of your chosen professions. One’s just a bit more normal than the other.”
Jeremiah stared at him intently and Mark couldn’t tell what the other man was thinking or if he’d even managed to reach him. Finally Jeremiah said softly, “I don’t want to wear the tights and cape ever again, but I’m having a problem putting on the glasses.”
“Because you know it means you have to be normal and conform a bit more to society and that can be hard and stifling sometimes. It can also be rewarding, too.”
“How?”
“For one, you can have a real relationship with Cindy and start a family with her.”
Jeremiah started at that and Mark knew he’d struck a nerve. He leaned in. “Look, I know you love her. I know that’s the only reason you came back here after whatever went down overseas. But what you’re doing, this whole standing apart thing, isn’t helping you heal and it isn’t showing her that you’re the guy for her. If you want to get better, if you want to feel connected to this place and the people around you, the best way you can do that is take your relationship with her to the next level.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“I don’t want you to hurt her. I mean, in my perfect world you guys get married and have kids and our kids marry your kids or Geanie and Joseph’s kids, and we’re all just one big happy family.”
Jeremiah blinked, clearly shocked by what Mark had said. Mark had to admit he was a little surprised himself. He cleared his throat. Now was not the time to hold back, even if it was uncomfortable for both of them.
“Look, you might not know it, but you have people here who love you. I don’t make friends easy, in case you haven’t noticed. Yet, I think of you as a friend. Actually, that doesn’t even cover it. Given all that we’ve been through, I think of you as a brother.”
And that realization rocked Mark like nothing else had in a long time.
Jeremiah bowed his head and Mark sat, quiet, not sure where they went from there. He wasn’t used to being open, vulnerable and he could only hope that by being willing to be that way now he was somehow helping the other man.
Without looking up Jeremiah began to speak. “My family...we saw them when we were over there. It was a mistake, a bad call on my part when we needed somewhere to hide.”
Mark felt himself go very still. Jeremiah was telling him something important, he could feel it, tell it in the
tone of the rabbi’s voice, see it in the tenseness of his shoulders. He felt himself starting to panic, wondering if he was going to be able to rise to whatever challenge Jeremiah informed him of, but then he told himself that all he had to do in that moment was keep breathing and truly listen. That was the greatest gift he could give Jeremiah. It was something his own father had never been able to do for him. It was something he had sworn he would do differently with his own family and he had just told Jeremiah that he was included in that family. Now was a tipping point for both of them.
Just breathe and listen.
“My uncle knew more or less what I used to do for a living. He had told the others, but they didn’t understand why I had stayed away, refused to see that it was because I loved them too deeply to endanger them. They were angry and unkind. My sister and my parents worst of all, my brother to a lesser degree. My sister-in-law, whom I’d never actually met, did her best to make it a joyous reunion, but she failed.”
Jeremiah paused and Mark felt the urge to say something, express sympathy, ask a question, anything to break the silence. Jeremiah’s head was still bowed, though, and he knew in his gut that the story didn’t end there.
Just listen.
This time it didn’t even seem like him telling himself that, but some other voice that was gently urging him to be still, and a sense of peace that was different from anything he had ever experienced filled him at that moment.
“Cindy was with me. I wanted to protect her. We had used a cover when we reached the country, something that would ensure that we could stay together through all the craziness that was happening. I knew for all our sakes that I had to maintain that cover.”
Jeremiah paused again, and Mark found himself leaning forward. Knowing the other man as he did, having been through some of the things they had been through, he was pretty sure he knew what that cover had been. He didn’t ask, though, didn’t prompt. He just...listened.
“I introduced Cindy to my mother, father, uncle, siblings and their spouses as my wife. My uncle and my sister-in-law welcomed her with open arms, no questions asked.”
I Will Fear No Evil Page 6