I Will Fear No Evil (Psalm 23 Mysteries Book 10) (15 page)

“Well, we understand, and we’re glad that you do,” Cindy said, giving her a smile even though her heart was still breaking for her.

“Thank you. You’ve always been so nice,” Brenda said.

Cindy felt bad. Her interactions with the girl had been few and far between and Brenda clearly needed more love and attention in her life. Dave did his best, but he was only one man with a hundred kids to look out for. She vowed that she’d start paying more attention, particularly to the ones that God brought across her path.

“I’ll walk you to the bus stop,” Cindy said.

“Thank you.”

It was just up the street a block, but Cindy was happy to go with her. They walked in silence and then Cindy stayed while she waited for the bus. When she saw it coming up the street she turned and looked at Brenda. “Would you like to go out to lunch Sunday after church?”

Brenda hesitated and Cindy thought for a moment that she had overstepped. “That sounds really nice, but I promised I’d help put together the haunted house.”

Cindy blinked in surprise. She couldn’t believe that given what she was going through that would even be on Brenda’s mind at the moment. If she’d been in her shoes the last thing she’d want to do was be reminded of horror and death. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Brenda was much older than she had been when her sister died. Of course she would view things differently.

The bus pulled up and Brenda got on. When she reached the top step she turned around. “I’d be free for lunch the week after,” she said, her voice hopeful.

“You’re on,” Cindy assured her.

Brenda nodded and disappeared into the back of the bus.

By the time Mark made it into the office there was a message for him from the coroner. He called the man back, eager to get some news.

“Hey, it’s Mark. What did you find?” he asked when the man picked up.

“You’re not going to like it.”

Mark winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Cause of death on both girls is a little iffy, but I’m having to go with heart attacks.”

“What? In girls that young that makes no sense.”

“I know, and I did tox screens to see if they could have been administered drugs that would have caused the heart attacks, but they came back clean. I honestly believe that both these girls died of fright.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Wish I was. I’m not.”

“They were scared to death?”

“It can happen and here it appears that it did.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t find anything else really of interest, no trace chemicals, soil samples that would be from someplace other than where they died. Only thing I found was some cat hair near the first body in the basement, but you already knew that.”

“What type of cat hair was it again?”

“Medium length. Black.”

Mark sat up straight. “Did you find any cat hair around the second body?”

“No, but she was staked out in a grassy field in the open. If it was there at one point it could have been blown away by a breeze. It could have even been there and just not noticeable in the grass.”

“Was there cat hair on either of the bodies?”

“Nope. No human hair either other than their own. I’m telling you, these are two of the cleanest corpses I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what to tell you beyond what I already have.”

“Okay, thanks, keep me updated,” Mark said before hanging up. This case was getting creepier and creepier. If the coroner was going to put scared to death on his official reports, though, there was nothing for Mark to do but run with that theory. The question then became who or what could have possibly frightened both girls badly enough to have killed them?

Jeremiah was sitting in his office half-staring into space. The early morning prayer vigil had been difficult to get through. There had been so many worried, anxious people there and he’d led them in prayers for two hours longer than he had intended. It was disheartening that the police still hadn’t found Meghan and he was beginning to worry that she might already be out of the city and on her way to becoming one of the nameless, lost children that populated the streets of Los Angeles.

There wasn’t anything more he could do about it, though. He had put it in G-d’s hands and he had to trust that everything would come out right and the prodigal would return home. His office phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts.

Jeremiah picked it up. “Hello?”

“Rabbi! Dave Wyman.”

“What can I do for you Wildman?”

“Well, the list is long, but actually I’m calling because a bunch of the kids are meeting at the church tonight and I thought it might be a good time for you to come out and start teaching them how to scare the pants off people. Metaphorically speaking.”

Jeremiah rubbed his eyes. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he really did need to get it over with so that the youth pastor could let it alone.

“What time?”

“Six.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

“You’re the best!”

As Jeremiah hung up the phone he couldn’t help but wonder how he got himself into these situations.

His cell went off, and he pulled it out of his pocket in disgust. He just wanted a few minutes of peace to himself, but apparently that was too much to ask for. It turned out that Mark was calling.

“Did you have a chance to look up those symbols that were marked on the bodies?” he asked without preamble.

“No. I’ll do that tonight supposing I survive my teaching course over at the church.”

“What teaching course?”

“I get to teach a bunch of teenagers how to run a scary haunted house.”

He could swear he heard Mark laughing, but it was muffled. After a moment the detective said, “I’d pay to see that.”

“You might, but you won’t. No grownups allowed, except me.”

“Too bad.”

Jeremiah sighed. “I can tell you right now what the Hebrew words meant.”

“What?”

“There was a hodgepodge of them. They were isolated from each other so there was no way to tell if there was supposed to be an order or a rational connection between them.”

“That’s fine, I’m ready, lay them on me.”

“Death. Darkness. Power. Initiate. Resurrection. Life Eternal. Sacrifice. Offering. Cost.”

“Great. Half of those sound like they go really well with the meaning of acacia that Cindy discovered last night.”

“If they really were burning acacia in that basement that would make sense.”

Mark was quiet for a moment. “I need to go back down there.”

Jeremiah could hear the fear in the other man’s voice.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Neither am I, but do you have a better one?”

“Not yet, give me a moment.”

“I’ll give you all day if it would help. Trust me, going back there is the last thing I want to do, but I have a feeling we missed something.”

“You’re not alone in that feeling.”

“I promised Traci I wouldn’t go back in that house. She got really freaked out when I told her about it that first night. It was like she was scared that something was going to happen to me in that house.”

“Maybe something is going to happen to you in that house,” Jeremiah said quietly.

Mark swore. “You really know just what to say to make a guy feel better.”

“I’m not going to discount what Traci felt. I’ve seen women’s intuition work before.”

“So have I which just puts me that much more on edge,” Mark admitted. “I hate this whole bloody case.”

“At least the press haven’t gotten hold of it yet.”

“That in and of itself is a miracle and I’m not questioning it, I’m just giving thanks for it.”

“Sound plan.”

“Tell you what, you want to go into that house for me and poke around?”

Jeremiah paused for a moment. “Do you want to teach a bunch of high-schoolers the best way to scare their friends and families?”

“No, but I’d still pay money to watch you do it.”

“I bet.”

“Okay, so no job switching for us. Probably just as well. Nerves like yours you’d probably go all to pieces in that house.”

The Detective was trying to make a joke but his own anxiety caused it to come out flat. “Be careful, Mark,” Jeremiah told him.

“You, too, man. Let me know if there’s anything I need to know.”

“Same with you.”

Jeremiah hung up the phone and he wrestled for a moment with feelings of guilt. There was no way he wanted to go back into that house again. If Traci had really had that strong a reaction, though, as a friend he shouldn’t let Mark go in alone.

He glanced at the clock. He had almost five hours before he had to go teach that class and there was no way he was going to be able to focus on work. With a sigh he got up and left his office, locking the door behind him.

Marie glanced up, brow furrowing.

“I’m going to be out the rest of the afternoon,” he told her.

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything which was just as well. If she’d accused him of sneaking off to spend time with Cindy, or whatever colorful new and inappropriate nickname she came up with for her this time then he couldn’t be held responsible for what he would say in return.

As soon as he hit the parking lot he pulled his cell back out. The Detective picked up right away.

“Mark, hold up. I’m coming with you.”

“I knew you were a crazy son-of-a-gun.”

“What is it you say? Takes one to know one?”

“That’s about right.”

After a brief discussion they opted to meet at the house itself.

When Jeremiah arrived he was surprised to see a woman in a dark suit standing next to Mark’s car. Jeremiah gave him a questioning look as he walked over to them.

“I decided to bring back up. Trina works for the F.B.I. and investigates all this cult crap. She hasn’t had the privilege yet of going into the house.”

“I guess it’s your lucky day,” Jeremiah said, keeping his voice neutral.

“Jeremiah, right?” she asked, extending her hand.

He shook it. “Nice to meet you. Now let’s get this over with.”

Truth was, knowing there was an agent there with Mark, Jeremiah had to fight down the urge to get in his car and drive straight back to the synagogue. He thought of Traci, though, and knew that he owed it to her to try and make sure her husband stayed alive and in one piece.

“Ugly building, isn’t it?” Trina asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Mark muttered.

They went up the steps to the porch one at a time, cautious so as not to fall through the rotting wood.

As Mark opened the door every instinct Jeremiah had screamed at him to not go inside. Mark began to step forward, but Trina stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you mind if I go first?”

“I’d be happy to let you go first, middle, and last,” Mark said.

Jeremiah noticed that the Detective had already begun to sweat like he had been in the house the other day. His own stomach was clenching making it feel like his intestines were tying themselves up in knots.

Trina stood for a moment on the threshold and she slowly waved her hand through the air from left to right. He had no idea what she was looking for, but clearly she did because a moment later she nodded and stepped inside.

Mark followed her and Jeremiah brought up the rear. It was not a position he fancied. The few times he’d worked with teams back in the old days he’d always preferred point. What was sneaking up behind him was always what worried him which was why he always wanted to know who or what was back there.

Without being told Trina managed to make a beeline for the kitchen and the door leading down to the basement.

“I don’t remember closing that door,” Mark muttered.

“You probably didn’t,” Trina said.

She held her hand up to the door and paused a moment.

Jeremiah strained his senses but he didn’t hear anything. He did have that tickling sensation on the back of his neck, though, that always warned him when he was being watched. He swiveled around but could see no one. He turned back, trying to block out the sensation lest it drive him crazy.

Trina took her hand and ran it down the edge of the door frame for a good two feet before she finally grabbed the doorknob with her other hand and twisted it open.

A blast of foul, dank air radiated outward, potent enough to drive both he and Mark back a couple of steps. Trina stood her ground, though. She had her head cocked to the side as though listening for something. He still didn’t hear anything.

There was no way Mark was going down into that basement. Not a chance. Not for all the money in the world. The dread he had felt in that house a couple of days before was somehow back tenfold. Maybe it was because it was just the three of them and there wasn’t an army of police officers scouring the entire building. Maybe it was because he had this creeping feeling of terror that he might find Lizzie’s body down there this time. Or maybe it was because all this talk of dark witches was finally starting to get to him.