Firebird Alex (The Sedumen Chronicles Book 1)

by Orren Merton

  “You wanna know,” I said. “I understand. I would probably be calling every five minutes if it were my mom.”

  Jake turned off the car, put both hands on the steering wheel, and sighed. “This is silly. I’m sorry. We can just call. Let’s—”

  “No,” I insisted. “It’s not silly. We want to show him how important this is to us. This is how we do it.”

  Jake got real quiet. He turned to me and gazed into my eyes with an intense look of surprise.

  “You…you said ‘we,’” he practically whispered. “And ‘us’…”

  I swallowed. I didn’t know how to put all the thoughts swirling through my head into words, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “I care, Jake,” I said, cautiously. “I care…about you. I want to help.”

  Jake just looked at me. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. I kinda wished he did. Finally he said “thanks,” lifting his right hand off the steering wheel as if he meant to do something with it, maybe touch me or something. Instead he just slapped it back down on the steering wheel and popped open the door locks with his other hand. “Okay, let’s go.”

  I’d never been inside the Irvine Police Department building before. The Tustin Police Department offices looked much older. The Irvine offices were surprisingly clean inside, more like I’d imagine a corporate office looking than anything else.

  We walked up to the information desk. “Excuse me,” Jake said to the Asian woman sitting behind a computer. “I’m here to see Sergeant Hector Godinez.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked curtly.

  “Um…no. But he told me that if I had information on the Harman case I should contact him, and I was in the area.”

  “Do you have his phone number?” she asked, turning back to her computer, probably to look it up.

  “Hey—” I said to her, trying hard to sound sincere but not overdoing it. “Please, if he’s here, can we see him? It’s about Jake’s mom….It’s important….”

  She looked up at me and sighed. I immediately felt bad, like she dealt with people like us all day, and we were just making her day that much worse. But I wasn’t going to give up. “Please?”

  The receptionist didn’t say a word and picked up a phone. She punched for a line and waited a moment. “Godinez, please,” she said. She looked down at her phone, not saying a thing while she waited. “There is a Mr. Harman here, about his mother’s case?” After another moment of silence. “Okay.” She put down the phone and looked up.

  “He’s just wrapping something up now; he’ll be out in a moment. You can wait over there,” she pointed to the right, where there was a group of chairs around a little table.

  “Thank you so much,” Jake said.

  “Yeah, thank you, we appreciate it,” I added.

  For the first time, the woman offered a tight-lipped smile. Then she returned her focus to her computer.

  We had barely walked to the chairs when a short Hispanic man pushed open a locked door and walked out into the reception area. He was way shorter than I’d imagined a detective to be—but he looked really strong. Even in a suit I could clearly see he had a broad neck and chest, like he might have been some kind of body-builder. He walked up to the two of us and was only slightly taller than I was. Jake towered over him, but each of the man’s legs looked thicker than Jake’s entire body.

  “Hello, Jake,” he reached out his hand to Jake.

  “Hi, sir,” Jake said, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry for coming instead of calling, I’m sure you’re busy…”

  “I am,” he said. “But I have a minute.” The man released Jake’s hand and turned to me. “I’m Detective Sergeant Hector Godinez.”

  “Hi, I’m Alexandra Gold,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Very nice to meet you, Alex. So as I said, I just have a minute. But let’s go to my office, where we can talk privately.”

  I stared at him for a moment. How did he know my nickname? Before I could say anything he turned around and started walking toward the locked door that he came from. Jake and I followed him.

  Before the door he turned to the counter. Another Hispanic officer looked up at the three of us and nodded. He reached into a drawer and pulled out two large plastic bags.

  “Do you mind?” Godinez asked. “I have a thing about any record-capable devices in my office.”

  “Oh, sure,” Jake nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the officer, who put it in one of the bags.

  I reached into my left pocket and pulled out my phone. I had to struggle a bit to pull it out of my tight pockets, so I ended up yanking my pen out with my phone. As I put my phone in the plastic bag, my pen clattered to the floor. I handed the officer my phone and picked up my pen.

  Detective Godinez seemed fascinated by my pen. “May I see that please?”

  “Sure,” I said and handed him my pen, reminding myself not to think it back into a dagger while he was holding it, then getting nervous that by thinking about not turning it into a knife, I might accidentally do just that.

  He looked it over, turning it around and focusing on the scary head symbol. “I’ve not seen a House pen for a very long time,” Detective Godinez said. “Which House is this from?”

  What? k`1`2

  “House pen?” I repeated, having no idea what he was talking about. “It’s from my house, I guess…I got it from my mom on my eighteenth birthday. What are you talking about?”

  He nodded and handed it back. “Fountain pens are very rare these days. Especially carrying one around in your pocket.”

  “My mom died of cancer a month ago. I carry it as a memento,” I said.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mom,” the detective said.

  Okay, this was getting weird. He knew my nickname. He knew something about my dagger-pen. I was afraid if I kept thinking about my pen it would turn back into a dagger, but I also couldn’t just let it drop. I made a note to bring this up later.

  “Let’s continue,” he said, unlocking the door and walking us to his office.

  “Please take a seat,” he directed us as he opened the door to a well-lit corner office. Once again, I was surprised. I expected the office to be a total mess, but everything was really organized, with his computer monitor taking up the corner of his desk and neat piles of papers and pens filling the rest. There were two plastic chairs and a huge filing cabinet, but other than that the office was empty.

  We sat down.

  “How can I help you?” the detective asked.

  Jake told him all about the visit to Mrs. Whattley. Detective Godinez listened particularly intently and looked at me almost with alarm when Jake mentioned how Cuddles freaked out at me. I began to squirm. How much did he know about me?

  After Jake finished, the detective sat back and looked at both of us, slowly nodding. “Thank you, Jake,” he said after a while. “I think this is useful. I’ll cross-reference this with our other interviews. Is there anything else?”

  “Do you know about Father Patrick Greely in Long Beach?” I asked.

  “I do,” Detective Godinez said. “I’m in contact with my counterparts in the Long Beach and Los Angeles Police Departments. And…” the detective turned to me with a hint of sadness, “Rabbi Hirsch had introduced me to his friend Patrick personally.”

  Suddenly, it all made sense.

  “You’re the rabbi’s friend in the Irvine Police Department,” I said.

  “I am. I think I first went to him for an opinion on a case maybe two decades ago, when we were both fresh faced kids not long out of school,” he smiled, almost inwardly, as if remembering a very happy time.

  “We talked yesterday. He told me about you, Alex. I know that you’re staying with him. I know you’ve been helping him look into these disappearances, too.”

  “That’s cool,” I said. And a relief, too. I wanted to know exactly what Rabbi Norm told him about me, and what he knew about my pen-dagger, but I didn’t want to ask in front o
f Jake, who still didn’t know. But if he’d been the rabbi’s friend for twenty years, I knew I could trust him.

  “Did the rabbi mention that the other missing persons on his list seem to have worked from home or not had a job at all?” I asked.

  “He did. And thank you—all of you,” Detective Godinez added, turning to Jake. “Everything helps. I’ll follow up.”

  “So…” Jake swallowed. “That means right now…”

  “Nothing new,” Detective Godinez confirmed. “I’m sorry, Jake. The moment there’s something solid, I’ll let you know. And as ever, whenever you hear anything, please call.”

  “I will,” Jake assured him.

  We rose from our chairs, and Detective Godinez walked us back out the locked door to the desk where our phones were. The officer handed us the bags, and we put our phones back in our pockets. I was relieved to see that my pen was still a pen. We shook the detective’s hand one more time, then left the station.

  “I’m glad we did that,” Jake turned to me and said. “I feel like we did something to try and help my mom. And that makes me feel good. Really good. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” I shrugged. “It was your idea.”

  “Yeah, but you were great,” he said. “So can I thank you with lunch? My treat?”

  “Be careful, I could get used to this,” I quipped.

  “I hope so,” he answered, his smile turning extremely affectionate. “Do you like Greek?”

  “Love it!” I said, and Jake started up his Subaru.

  12

  We enjoyed a late lunch at a small Greek cafe called Mikos’ Garden a few blocks away from UCI. We both ate salads; I chose a plain Greek salad and Jake a salad with lamb slices. We didn’t talk much about our investigation or our moms. Instead we got to know each other better, laughing and talking about our favorite movies, music, video games, and books. It was getting easier and easier to talk to Jake. We sat there for a long time—for hours—just enjoying each other’s company. It was a fantastic lunch…until my phone started ringing.

  I took my phone out of my pocket, a little embarrassed that I forgot to mute the ringtone in the cafe. When I saw the caller listed as “Tustin Middle School” I became concerned.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hello, this is Tustin Middle School calling on behalf of Rachel Silver. Her usual pickup hasn’t arrived and isn’t answering his phone, and she suggested that I call you. Are you available to pick Rachel up from school?”

  I held the phone away from my head so I could see its time display. It was 3:30pm; we’d been sitting there for two and a half hours. But more concerning to me was that Rabbi Norm didn’t pick Rachel up, and didn’t even ask anyone else to do it.

  Jake looked at me with a worried expression. I didn’t feel like it was my right to commit him to do anything for me or Rachel without asking first, but I felt pressured to give an answer to the caller and didn’t know what else to do. I hoped he didn’t mind….

  I brought the phone back to my ear. “Of course, we’ll be right there to pick her up.”

  I disconnected the call and turned to Jake. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Yeah, of course,” he said, rising from his chair. “I would have volunteered anyway.”

  “Thanks,” I sighed with relief. We walked up to the cash register and paid our bill, then left.

  “I’m worried,” I admitted to Jake as we climbed in his car. “I don’t think this is like him.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said as he drove away. “Maybe try to text him?”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted:

  Jake and I are going to pick up Rachel from school. Everything okay?

  I told Jake what I wrote and he nodded.

  When we arrived at Tustin Middle School, I got out of the car and pushed the seat forward for Rachel to climb in the back. Rachel took off her backpack and tossed it in the back seat, but before she climbed in she turned and gave me a tight, worried hug. I put my arms around her and held her close. “This isn’t like him,” Rachel whispered, her face resting on my shoulder. “He’s never not picked me up without arranging a ride for me.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” I promised as we ended our hug. “You and me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Thanks,” Rachel said. I think she may have been trying to smile, but she was far too concerned.

  So was I.

  “Hey, Rachel,” Jake said with the friendliest tone he could muster.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Rachel said. “I appreciate it.”

  “No problem-o,” Jake said, trying to keep it light. “I’m taking you home now, right?”

  “Actually, I have B’nai David today at five, so you can just drop me there.”

  “Your wish is my command; we’re off!” Jake said, way too enthusiastically for our mood.

  Rachel sat behind my seat and turned toward Jake. “I know you’re trying to keep me from getting worried…”

  “But it’s not working, and I should just stop because you’re not a child and it’s not helping,” Jake finished.

  I turned to Jake to see if he was upset. He looked a little embarrassed but not angry. I tried to smile at him.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. Thanks though,” Rachel said quietly.

  Jake nodded, and we drove to Congregation B’nai David in silence.

  We walked through the front door and to the small reception area in the religious school section of the building.

  “Hi Rachel,” the cheery young receptionist smiled. “Where’s the rabbi?”

  Rachel shrugged her shoulders, her face blank.

  “We were kinda hoping you might know,” I said.

  “Me? No, but maybe someone in the office knows. Back in a sec,” she said, and stood up and opened a door behind the reception desk.

  “So what do you normally do when you get here early?” I asked Rachel.

  “Sit with Dad in his office and do my homework,” she said.

  “Would you feel better or worse sitting in his office doing your homework today if he’s not there?”

  Rachel thought for a moment. “Worse.”

  “Okay,” I nodded.

  “I want to stay with you, Alex.”

  “I’m staying right here, Rachel. I’m not leaving you.”

  Rachel took my hand and gripped it tightly.

  The secretary came back and sat down at her station. “He’s been out since about eleven this morning when he went to Mission Hospital to visit a sick congregant. Rachel, his office is unlocked if you’d like to sit there and finish your homework.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll do my homework here,” she replied, almost as if in a daze. She slowly began taking her backpack off of her shoulders, then sat down in one of the tall blue armless chairs in the reception area.

  I turned to Jake. “Hey, I’m going to stay with Rachel, okay? When I figure out why the rabbi couldn’t make it I’ll let you know.”

  “I don’t…if you’d like me to stay…” Jake shuffled.

  “Thanks, but that’s cool. I think Rachel probably wants to be alone with me, and I’d rather give her my whole attention.”

  “Sure, makes sense,” Jake nodded. “Please text me later one way or another, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Okay, catch you later,” Jake said. He hesitantly raised his arms and stepped closer to me. I leaned into him, awkwardly putting my arms around him so he knew it was okay to give me a hug. He closed his arms tightly around my back, leaned his head down, and rested his cheek on my head. He held me close, and I held him close. It felt nice. Better than nice.

  “Bye,” I said as soon as our hug was finished. “I’ll text you tonight.”

  He nodded and walked out of the building. I sat down next to Rachel.

  “He could have stayed, if you wanted him to,” Rachel said softly.

  “I’d rather it just be you and me right now,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she leaned her h
ead toward me so that it rested on my shoulder for a moment, then returned to her homework.

  I took out my phone. I hadn’t brought any books to read or anything, but I figured since I had Internet access on my phone, I might as well use it.

  After sitting alone in the reception area for a while, parents started coming in with their kids, and Rachel’s friends started arriving. They invited her to hang out and chat with them. I could tell she didn’t want to go, but she also didn’t want to be left out.

  “Can I keep my school stuff with you?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  She robotically packed her homework in her backpack, zipped it up, and left it on the chair next to me.

  “See if you can find Dad,” she said.

  “I will,” I promised. “Try and have fun, okay?”

  Rachel nodded joylessly and left to join her group of friends.

  So how was I going to track down the rabbi before Rachel got out of religious school? I got a hollow feeling in my stomach as I imagined returning to his house and finding a few bloodstains and scratches, and nothing else, ever again. God…please don’t let that be true, I prayed.

  The intercom beep went off at five, and the kids all went to their respective classes. I’d not been back here since before my own Bat Mitzvah five years ago, but not much had changed, although all the instructors were different. I walked up to the school receptionist.

  “Hi,” she smiled.

  “Hi…” I swallowed. “So, I don’t know if you could tell, but we’re kind of worried about the rabbi….”

  She nodded, her smile giving way to a sympathetic expression. “I’m sure he just got busy, detained by other things.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But if you find out anything, could you please let me know?”

  “Oh absolutely,” she said. “I’ll tell everyone in the office, so that if anyone hears anything it will come straight to me.”

  “That would be great,” I said. “Thanks.”

  She rose from her seat. “Back in a sec,” she smiled and walked back into the main office.

  I sat back down on the chair. I took out my phone and looked at my text messages, just in case the rabbi had texted me and I didn’t catch it. Nope.