Restoreth My Soul (Psalm 23 Mysteries) (10 page)

Mark glanced down and noticed for the first time a hunk of carpet missing from the dining room floor. “What happened?” he asked, gesturing to it.

She seemed to come awake at that, eyes that had seemed lifeless moments before quickening with thought. “Jeremiah had me cut up sections of the carpet in most of the rooms checking to see if there was anything underneath. We didn’t find anything. The only room I didn’t touch yet was the writing room. I think he was having me do it to distract me.”

“Probably, but I can guarantee he’s probably been as curious as me and as anxious to rip up the rest of these carpets. It was all I could do not to rip them up last night,” Mark admitted.

“Do you really think he’s going to be okay?”

“Yes. He’s a fighter, that one,” he said around the sudden lump in his throat.

“Why does bad stuff keep happening to us?” she asked.

“I’d give just about anything to have the answer to that myself,” he admitted. “I’m going to get a couple of officers out here to check the place out and talk to the neighbors, see if anyone saw anything. Then I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Cindy looked like she was about to say something and then stopped.

“What is it?”

“No, it sounds terrible.”

“I can practically guarantee you that I’ve heard worse.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital. I just want to go home.”

“I can take you there, too,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I can drive myself.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I’ll change clothes and then I’ll head over to the hospital.”

“I know the rabbi would understand if you waited until the morning to see him.”

She pushed off from the wall and he winced as he saw the bloody patch she’d left on it.

“He’d understand, but I wouldn’t. Does that make sense?”

Mark nodded. “Believe it or not it does.”

“I’ll see you later,” she said, starting for the door.

“Wait,” he said. He went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel and came back with it. He handed it to her. “For your backrest. I touched him and then I rubbed your back and I’m afraid I ruined your blouse.”

She took the towel, glanced at the wall where she’d been leaning, and then nodded solemnly. “It’s okay. I never really liked this shirt anyway.”

As soon as she was out the door Mark called in for some officers to help canvass the area. Maybe someone had seen something. It was a long shot, but it was all they had.

He started to head back to the writing room and paused as he passed the kitchen. There was a pizza and soda on the counter. They were untouched. He grabbed himself a slice and made a mental note to pay Cindy back later. Then he called his wife and let her know that it was going to be another long night.

After that was done he ate a couple of more slices of pizza and washed it down with the soda. A couple of officers arrived and he was actually disappointed one of them wasn’t Liam until he remembered that he had lectured him about making sure to take his days off seriously. It was hard to believe that had been just a few hours before.

He rubbed his head. He really needed to talk things over with someone and Jeremiah and Cindy were both out of the question at the moment. He sighed, called the precinct, and got Liam’s cell number.

“Hello?” Liam answered.

“It’s Mark.”

“Detective, what can I do for you?” the other officer said, clearly surprised.

“You can forget the speeches I gave you earlier today and you can get your butt down to Heinrich’s house. The case just took a turn for the even weirder and two heads are better than one.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour, let me just stop and grab some fast food.”

“No need. I got pizza here.”

“Then I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Great.”

Mark hung up. He felt bad, involving the other officer more than he should be. At least he was a fellow cop, though. He knew the risks inherent in their line of work. This way if he got someone else shot at tonight it wouldn’t be a civilian.

“Baggage,” he sighed. “I’ve got lots and lots of baggage.”

While he waited for everyone to arrive he decided he might as well finish the job that Cindy had started. He headed into the writing room and tested the edges of the carpet until he found a section that was loose. When he pulled it up, though, there was nothing special underneath.

It was worth a try
, he thought as he dropped the carpet back into place.

He fished in his pocket for his phone, figuring he’d call Cindy and let her know there hadn’t been anything. That way she and Jeremiah could at least have their curiosity slaked on that one.

His phone wasn’t in his pocket where he normally kept it. He checked his other one and pulled out the piece of paper with the art restorer’s phone number on it. He stared at it for a moment before heading into the kitchen where he found his phone where he’d apparently left it next to the pizza box.

Pull yourself together, he ordered.

He called Cindy and left a message when it went to voicemail. Then he went ahead and dialed the number on the card, knowing it was unlikely he would reach anyone this late.

He was surprised when a woman answered the phone. “Hello, this is Melissa.”

“Melissa, hi, my name is Detective Mark Walters. I’m with the Pine Springs Police Department.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly startled. He got it. It wasn’t every day that most people had police calling them up out of the blue. “Your name was given to me as someone who does restoration work on art.”

“Oh, yes, I do that,” she said, warming slightly.

“I’m sorry to call so late. I frankly expected the shop to be closed.”

“I work out of my house,” she said. “And it’s okay. How can I help you?”

“I have a piece of artwork I’d like you to look at for me and give me an assessment.”

“Of course. When would you like to come by?”

“At your earliest convenience.”

“I can take a look tonight if it’s important.”

“It is and I would very much appreciate it if you could,” he said. “Would an hour from now be alright?”

“Certainly. Do you have my address?”

“No.”

“It’s 23 Sycamore Terrace. Come around to the side door.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

He hung up just as the uniformed officers were arriving. He briefed them and told them what he wanted them to ask the area residents. By the time they were getting to it Liam showed up.

He walked in the door, saw all the blood, and stopped. “That’s new,” he said.

“Yes, unfortunately, it is.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Okay, where are we going?”

“To get the dog picture out of evidence and take it to a lady who restores paintings. I’ve got a few questions for her.”

They climbed into Mark’s car and as they drove Mark told Liam about his meeting with Trevor earlier and about Jeremiah being shot. When he got to the part about the car apparently having diplomatic plates Liam whistled low.

“Tell me about it,” Mark said. “This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“I’d heard around the precinct that you’re always the one who gets the exciting cases.”

“Exciting?” Mark snorted. “Try bizarre, terrifying, life altering. I don’t know how I got so unlucky, but that’s how it seems to play out.”

“Is it every case of yours or just the ones that Cindy and Jeremiah get involved with?” Liam asked.

“It’s an excellent question and I don’t even know how to answer that, especially since a case from a year ago that they had no involvement with whatsoever is now turning out to be part of a case that they are involved with. Maybe the three of us are just cursed,” he muttered at the end, thinking of the blood bond he’d imagined earlier.

They retrieved the painting from the station and then headed on to Melissa’s studio. A few minutes later they were pulling up outside a large two-story house.

“We’re early,” Mark said, glancing at the clock on the dash. “She said to go to the side entrance.”

They got out of the car and began walking around the house. They finally spotted the side door. It was hard to see. The light above it was dark and there wasn’t much light from the street making it back that far.

“Does it strike you as odd that the porch light wasn’t on nor this one?” Mark asked.

“You said we’re early.”

“Still.”

Something felt wrong enough that Mark pulled his gun scarcely realizing that he’d done so.

“I didn’t bring a weapon,” Liam admitted.

“Then stay behind me,” Mark ordered, moving in front of him.

They reached the side door. It was closed. There was a doorbell off to the side and Mark rang it then stepped back.

Silence.

“I don’t like this,” he said.

He tried the door and the knob turned easily.

He pushed it open, staying to the side, and waited.

Still nothing.

“Police, is anyone home?” he called.

Ducking down he reached inside and felt for a light switch. His fingers finally brushed a plate with two switches. One was probably for the outside light and one for the inside. He flipped them both and light flooded down on them and illuminated the room inside.

The place had been ransacked. Easels were flipped over, paintings had been slashed, papers had been flung about, and there was brightly colored smears of paint all over the floor.

Keeping his gun trained in front of him Mark stepped into the room, sweeping it with his eyes. The place was a wreck. Whoever had tossed it had been moving fast and not picky about what he destroyed in the process.

“There in the doorway to the left,” Liam said.

Mark swung his gun to face that direction.

There, laying face down on the ground, was a woman.

Cindy felt like she was moving through a dream as she drove toward the hospital. She had made it home where she had discovered just how much blood was on the back of her shirt. She had started to rinse it in the sink with cold water, but had swiftly changed her mind and thrown it out. She had an intense feeling that she’d never be able to wear it again without reliving, or at least remembering, the events of the evening. She would really rather put that as far behind her as possible. She changed clothes, wolfed down a granola bar she found in the cupboard, and headed out.

Now as she parked outside the hospital she felt somewhat nauseated. She didn’t like hospitals and the last several months had only increased her discomfort around them. She owed it to Jeremiah, though, to go inside no matter how much she didn’t want to.

She marveled at the fact that she really had reached a point where she just wanted to go to bed, pull the covers over her head, and hide from the rest of the world. As tempting as that sounded, though, it wouldn’t do anyone any good, probably least of all her.

She said a quick prayer for her strength as she exited the car then forced herself to march through the front doors as if she didn’t mind hospitals in the least. Once inside she went up to the information desk.

“I’m here to see Jeremiah Silverman. He would have been brought into the emergency room about half an hour ago with a gunshot wound to the arm.” She marveled at how calm and matter-of-fact she sounded. The nurse must think she was insane for treating it like no big deal.

The woman looked at her with a little bit of suspicion, or perhaps Cindy’s own discomfort and paranoia made it seem that way. Before she could say anything, though, another nurse walked by, stopped and turned back to her.

“Mrs. Silverman. Hi, I was one of your nurses when you were in here a while back. I’ll take you right to your husband.”

Cindy felt herself turn bright red. Jeremiah had been forced to claim that relationship so he’d be allowed to see her and protect her from a serial killer just days after he and she had first met. She had never forgotten, but she had assumed people at the hospital would.

Still, she didn’t say anything, but followed meekly behind as the woman took her through twisting hallways. He was probably still in the emergency section of the hospital and she probably should have parked around that side, she realized belatedly. She felt like she was doing everything in slow motion, particularly thinking.

At last they came to the emergency ward where a long room had several semi-private beds that were screened from each other by curtains.

“I found your wife outside looking for you,” the nurse said cheerfully as she ducked through one of the curtains.

Cindy sheepishly followed her and had a hard time meeting Jeremiah’s eyes. He was smiling, but he was incredibly pale. He was connected up to all sorts of monitors and there was an IV drip hooked up to his right arm.

“Thanks for bringing her by, I was beginning to wonder when she was going to get here,” Jeremiah said, sounding weak.

“Sorry it took so long,” Cindy said, feeling guilty.

He reached out for her and she moved so she could take his hand. “I understand,” he said softly.

“The doctor will be with you in a minute,” the nurse said before leaving.

“Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you alone here, could I?” she asked, forcing herself to smile. She’d never tell him that she’d wanted to do just that by hiding at home.

“I know it can’t be easy for you,” he said, finally letting go of her hand.

She pulled up a chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Now I just have to convince them to let me go home. I’d appreciate your help with that.”

“I think you should stay overnight,” she argued.

He shook his head. “Can’t. Rosh Hashanah starts tomorrow night and I’m behind as it is.”

“But you’ve been shot.”

“I’ll live. Clearly.”

She bit her lip as she thought about seeing him with his shirt off while the paramedics worked on him. There had been so many scars. Small holes, long jagged ones. She had realized even then that the others in the room were shocked by how many scars he had. Some of them were even bullet scars.

“You’ve been shot...a lot,” she said finally.

He studied her quietly for a moment. “You know I spent my required time in the army in Israel.”

“I know, everyone there has to serve. I just thought, I don’t know, that you’d be doing more chaplain kind of duties.”

He gave her what she could only describe as an intensely sad look. “If only things were that simple,” he said, his voice sounding strained.

“You were hurt?”

“Yes. I saw combat. It left its mark.”

She could tell he didn’t want to talk about it.

It didn’t just scar his body
, she realized.

She wanted desperately to know more, but she couldn’t push. She instinctively felt it was hurting him just to admit that much. Before she could say anything the curtain parted and the doctor strode in, his head buried in Jeremiah’s chart.

He finally looked up. “You’ve had a busy evening,” he said.

“Yup. Ready to go home now and get some rest.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” the doctor said. “I want to keep you overnight.”

“That’s not acceptable,” Jeremiah said.

She winced at his use of the word which made him sound combative instead of persuasive.

“Please,” she piped up. “He’d be so much more comfortable at home. He’s afraid of hospitals and I know he won’t be able to get any rest here. I can make sure he’s comfortable and has everything he needs bef-” she cut herself off before she could say the rest of her sentence. She was about to admit that she would be going home and leaving him alone which would virtually guarantee that the doctor would force him to stay overnight where he could have help and supervision.

“And just who are you?” the doctor asked her.

“She’s my wife,” Jeremiah said, grabbing her hand again.

“I’m sorry, but I feel you really need medical monitoring.”

“She was an army nurse in Afghanistan,” Jeremiah said. “I’ll be just fine.”

She blinked, struggling not to let her face give away Jeremiah’s lie. It was important enough for him to go home tonight that he was willing to take it that far. She didn’t like it, but she wasn’t going to contradict him.

“Where’d you serve?” the doctor asked.

“Kandahar,” she said the first name that popped into her mind. Her mom had had a second cousin who was there at the beginning of the war. She forced herself to look at him straight on and not blink.

“So, you know a thing or two about gunshot wounds, then.”

“You know she does,” Jeremiah said. “If she’d been there when this happened I wouldn’t have called for an ambulance.”

“Please. Rosh Hashanah begins at sundown tomorrow night. We need to prepare. He’s a rabbi and it would be devastating if this impacted the most important holy days of the year,” Cindy said. “It would severely impair the free exercise of his religious beliefs and those of a great many others.”

Jeremiah was practically crushing her hand. She took that as a sign that she was laying it on too thick. She eased off. “Please, we just want to go home,” she said.

She felt tears begin to sting her eyes, and those at least were real.

“Honey, could you give us a moment?” Jeremiah asked.

She nodded, wiped at her eyes, and headed outside.

She could hear the two men talking in low voices, but not what they were saying.

A minute later the doctor came out. The look he gave her was one of pity. “I’ll release him into your care. I’ll write out detailed instructions for dosages and have the hospital pharmacy deliver the prescriptions here right away. I’ll leave my number. If anything goes wrong...for either of you...call me at any time day or night and I’ll come over.”

“Thank you,” Cindy said, wondering what on earth Jeremiah could have told him.

He looked like he was about to touch her but then dropped her hand. “I’ll have you out of here in thirty minutes,” he said.

Mark dearly hoped that the woman on the floor wasn’t the one they were there to meet, but he had a feeling given how she dressed that she was indeed the art restorer and the owner of the house.

Liam rushed forward toward the body of the woman. Mark grabbed him by the collar as he passed and pushed him sideways into the wall.

“What the-”

“First, we make sure it’s safe,” Mark hissed.

They needed to make certain that whoever had done this wasn’t still in the house as well as ascertain whether or not the woman was a threat before approaching the body.

There appeared to be only two exits from the room - the door they had come in through and the doorway into the rest of the house that the body was blocking. The space was large but there were no closets for anyone to be hiding in.

Mark edged forward, weapon trained on the fallen woman, eyes darting between her and what he could see of the house beyond. Lights were on in other parts of the house making him think she had entered the room either because she had heard a noise or in preparation for their meeting and surprised the intruder.

He wasn’t about to take any chances that that was what had happened, though. When he was standing close to the body he reached out and nudged the shoulder with his toe.

There was no response. He watched the back carefully, but could see no signs of breathing. He shifted so he could kick the leg, just hard enough that if she was alive and conscious it would definitely elicit a response. Again nothing.

He handed Liam his gun and then bent down swiftly and felt for a pulse at the base of her neck. There was none.

He stood and took his gun back from Liam. He stepped over the woman, crouching down as he moved quickly through the doorway and out into the hallway beyond.

He let his eyes sweep down it. He was about to turn and open the door directly across the hallway when he heard a crash from the front of the house.

He ran in a low crouch, weapon trained in front of him. The family room and dining room when he came to them were empty. He glanced up the stairway to the second floor but saw nothing. He passed through the front entrance area of the house and headed for the kitchen.

He heard a soft thud and he tensed, lifting a hand to let Liam who was following behind know to use caution. Mark slowed and stood just outside the kitchen, back pressed against the wall. Sweat was beading on his forehead. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and charged through the doorway.

As Mark dashed through the doorway into the kitchen he wasn’t sure who he’d find inside. His finger was on the trigger of his gun and his mind was hyper alert.

His eyes flicked across the room and at first saw no one. Then he dropped them slightly and saw shattered glass on the ground and a pool of white liquid spreading out from it. There, at the edge of the liquid eagerly lapping it up, was a fluffy orange cat.

He felt himself sag slightly with relief. He’d been afraid that someone was about to get hurt, that the killer would fire on him or that he would accidentally fire on some innocent bystander.

He turned to Liam and whispered. “Let’s finish clearing the house and then we’ll call it in.”

Twenty minutes later Cindy was helping Jeremiah into her car. Once inside she headed for the exit of the parking lot.

“I’ve never seen them discharge someone so quickly,” she said. “What on earth did you say to him?”

“I could tell that he wasn’t going to cave even if you were an army nurse, so I told him the truth.”

“Which is?”

Jeremiah sighed as he leaned his head back against the seat. “That you’re suffering PTSD from having been kidnapped and tortured a couple of months ago. I told him you were already afraid of hospitals and that with everything that was happening, I couldn’t predict how you were going to react. I also told him he’d be unsuccessful in trying to get you to leave the hospital and that the best solution for us and for them was to let me go home.”

“I see. Did you also tell him we weren’t married?”

“Not a chance. As far as those people are concerned we’re married and it’s better for us if they keep thinking that. It’s come in handy too many times.”

“Oh. Well, at least I don’t have to pretend to be an army nurse from now on. That could have gotten awkward.”

“You were a real soldier, in there, though. I appreciated it. I’m going to have to make it up to you somehow.”

“Steak dinner when this is done,” she said.

“You’re on.”

“And explain to me what Rosh Hashanah is,” she said.

He actually chuckled. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“I’m asking, so talk.”

“It’s the Jewish New Year, but instead of a time for wild festivities, it’s a time for deep reflection on the past year and the coming year.”