Restoreth My Soul (Psalm 23 Mysteries) (11 page)

“So, like resolutions.”

“Yes, but ideally a bit more spiritual. Rosh Hashanah begins the ten-day period known as Yamim Noraim, which means the Days of Awe or some would say the Days of Repentance. They end with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. During Yamim Noraim we believe that G-d has books that he writes our names down in and he decides what will happen to you in the coming year, who will die, who will have a good life or a bad life. He writes in these books on Rosh Hashanah and we have until Yom Kippur when the books are sealed to get him to change his mind and rewrite our life for the coming year. That’s why I would say to you L'shanah tovah tikatevi v'taihatemi. It means ‘may you be inscribed and sealed for a good year’.”

“How do you get God to change what he wrote about you?” she asked.

“Good deeds, prayer, and repentance.”

“Yom Kippur is the day you atone for your sins?”

“Only those made against God. Before Yom Kippur if you want to atone for sins against another person you must reconcile with them, and right any wrongs that you can.”

“It all sounds complicated,” Cindy said.

“It’s cleansing,” Jeremiah countered. “It’s starting each year with a fresh slate. Well, as fresh as you can.”

“So, what do you do on Rosh Hashanah itself?”

“It’s a two day celebration. The shofar, which is like a trumpet but is made out of a ram’s horn, is blown in the synagogue one hundred times on each day as a call to repentance. People eat honey dipped apples as they wish for a sweet year. They also symbolically cast off their sins on the first day by emptying their pockets into a stream or other type of flowing water. Usually the pockets are filled with bread crumbs or something of that nature that stand in for the sins being cast off.”

“And it’s actually considered a holiday, right?” she asked.

“No work is permitted on Rosh Hashanah.”

“Which is why you have to get your preparations done before it starts?”

“Exactly. Much of the two days is actually spent in the synagogue and the liturgy is different.”

“So, no working unless you’re you.”

He looked at her. “Well, being rabbi, reading liturgy, that is your job, your work, so you’re still stuck working.”

“You want to know what’s weird?” he asked.

“What?”

“I never actually thought about it that way until right now.”

She smiled. “I’ve been trying to pay attention. It’s like Shabbat in that way, too. You’re the only one working. So, really, on those days where you’re not permitted to work, but people are supposed to go to the synagogue, they should all go and you should stay home and quietly reflect on God or even do something completely different, like golf or something.”

“If I weren’t in so much pain and on so much medication, I’d be laughing right now,” he admitted.

“Then my job here is done. I might as well pull over the car right here,” she joked.

“Don’t you dare,” he said.

“Don’t worry. I promised the doctor I’d take care of you and I will. It sounds like a busy time for you, work wise, though. Do you think you’ll be able to handle everything in your condition?”

“The hard part will be the day after Rosh Hashanah.”

“Why?”

“That’s a fast day, the Fast of Gedaliah.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was. Fortunately medical exceptions are made. I’ll just have to figure out what those are going to be in my case.”

“That’s a lot to pack in to a few weeks.”

“Oh, that’s not all. Five days after Yom Kippur is Sukkot which is a big deal. It lasts for seven days and then there are two holidays on the two days following it.”

“Stop! Information overload.”

“Not surprising,” he said.

“Tell you what, let’s get through Yom Kippur and then you can tell me about the others.”

“Okay,” he said.

She glanced over at him. His arm was heavily bandaged and in a sling. She thought again of that moment where she realized he’d been shot.

If we live that long
, she silently amended.

It took a few more minutes, but Mark and Liam finally finished sweeping the entire house. No one else was there. They headed back into the room with the body while Mark called it in. When he was finished he looked at Liam who was just staring at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You assumed that she was alive and dangerous. Why?”

“Years ago I participated in a drug bust. We were searching the house and I saw a guy laying face down on the floor next to a pool of blood. I dropped my guard, bent down to check on him, and he rolled over and shot me. Fortunately I was wearing my vest, but he was aiming at my head when one of the other officers came up behind me and killed him. That’s when I learned never to approach a fallen body without assuming the person could be armed and dangerous.”

“Thanks. I will remember that.”

“I hope so.” Mark took a deep breath. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Liam. “Grab us some gloves. I keep a box in the trunk.”

Liam left and Mark stood gazing around the room, anger burning in him. It looked like whoever had done this had been looking for something. She must have surprised whoever it was and they killed her. The real question was, did they find what they were looking for?

He heard running footsteps outside and he drew his weapon.

“Detective!” Liam said, bursting through the door, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Your car...somebody broke into it and stole the painting.”

Jeremiah was exhausted. He was in worse shape than he’d let on to either the doctor or Cindy. He’d lost a lot of blood and that was making him weak. They hadn’t completely immobilized his arm which meant that he kept inadvertently moving it releasing waves of pain through him that the painkillers could only dull but not get rid of. It was incredibly taxing to have to actively try to keep still and then deal with the pain when he couldn’t.

Just getting from Cindy’s car into the house was nearly too much for him. He grit his teeth in frustration. He’d had wounds that were far more serious that were still far easier to work around.

As soon as they got in the door Captain walked up whining. He was clearly tempering his usual boisterous greeting because he could tell something was wrong. The dog was incredibly smart and Jeremiah was deeply grateful for that at the moment.

“I think it’s straight to bed for you,” Cindy said, as she eased him toward the bedroom.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

He was wearing his slacks and the hospital gown since his cut up shirt had needed to be thrown out. Cindy helped him sit down on the side of the bed and then she reached down and started taking off his shoes.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“You really want to jostle that arm around any more tonight?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted.

“Then let me do what I can to help.”

He decided not to argue. The medication was making him more and more drowsy and he was struggling not to fall asleep where he was sitting. In the car it had been easier because he’d been able to focus on explaining the holidays to her.

As soon as his shoes were off she moved to his sling which she removed. Then she looked at him with an odd expression.

“What?” he asked.

“Where are your pajamas?”

“I’m too tired to get in them, I’ll just sleep like this,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Okay. What can I get you to eat or drink?”

He shook his head. “There’s some crackers in the cupboard. If you could just put some of those, a glass of water, and my pills on the nightstand I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why not?” he asked, realizing he was slurring his words.

“Because you’re going to need medication in the middle of the night and from the looks of you I’m not sure you can handle it on your own.”

“I don’t need the painkillers if I’m sleeping,” he protested.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll sleep on the couch and that way I can come in and check on you.”

“Really, I’m okay,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Just a little too warm in here.” He used his good hand to pull off the hospital gown.

“Do you want a T-shirt?” she asked.

“No, I’ll sleep like this.” It would help keep him from bunching the gown too much around the dressing on his arm as well.

Cindy averted her eyes. “Go to sleep and for once, don’t worry about me,” she said.

He wanted to protest that he always worried about her, but he felt himself falling backward. His head hit his pillow and he sank into sleep.

Jeremiah looked so peaceful Cindy lingered in the room a minute just watching him sleep. She had known he was more out of it than he was letting on. She found an extra blanket and pillow in the linen closet near the bathroom and dropped them on the couch in the living room.

Next she headed into the kitchen and checked out the refrigerator. Jeremiah might not need anything to eat, but she did. From the way Captain eagerly followed her she was guessing he did, too.

She scratched the dog behind the ears and he wagged his tail. She changed the water in his bowl and then gave him fresh dog food.

“I’ll take you out after we eat,” she said, yawning.

She found some cheese and roast beef in the refrigerator. She didn’t see any bread, so she just wrapped the cheese in the roast beef and ate it that way. She downed it with a glass of water.

She took Captain for a quick walk and then went and sat down on the couch. She heaved a sigh and felt exhaustion really take hold of her. Her body felt so heavy and she wondered briefly if she’d be able to even get up off the couch when it was time to give Jeremiah medication.

She pulled out her phone, preparing to set the alarm to wake herself. She had missed calls from both Geanie and Mark.

She called her roommate first and filled her in on what was going on. Thankfully Geanie didn’t make any even remotely romantic suggestions. She did, however, offer to bring a change of clothes by.

“Can you do it in the morning? I’m going to crash soon.”

“Are you actually thinking of going into work tomorrow?” Geanie asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” Cindy said. “Personally, I’d like to stay home, but I have a feeling I’m going to be driving Jeremiah to the synagogue.”

“And at that point you might as well save a sick day and go in?”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking.”

She was also thinking that she’d at least be nearby if he needed her.

After she hung up with Geanie she called Mark.

“Hello?” he answered, voice tense.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Not really. Got another body. An art restorer. And the dog painting was just stolen.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cindy said, at a loss as to how else to respond.

“Not your fault,” he muttered. “What’s happening there?”

“We’re at Jeremiah’s. He talked his way out of the hospital because tomorrow evening Rosh Hashanah starts and he has to-”

“Get ready. Yeah, he’s been warning me about that for days. You’re going to stay there with him, right?”

“I’ve already made up the couch.”

“Good. Call if something goes wrong. Well, more wrong.”

“You, too.”

“Not likely,” he said. “The two of you need rest more than anything. Whatever else happens at this point it can wait until the morning.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

He paused as if really hearing what she had said. “I will,” he said in a different tone.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll call tomorrow when I can.”

“Alright. Good night.”

He grunted and hung up.

Cindy set her phone down on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch. Her muscles began to twitch and vibrate as they slowly relaxed. It was a disturbing feeling, but at least they were capable of relaxing somewhat.

Captain walked over and regarded her with big, concerned eyes.

“I’m fine. Go see your dad,” Cindy said.

The dog turned and padded off toward the bedroom.

Mark was just about done. Even the other officers were starting to actually look at him. Finally one of them came up to him. “How long since you got some sleep, Detective?”

He grunted an unintelligible reply and the man backed off. They were probably all worried he was getting ready to go off the deep end again.

There was no sign of forced entry so the lady must have let her killer in. Officers were dusting for prints, but he wasn’t optimistic that they were going to find any. She had been stabbed in the throat with a ballpoint pen that had her company information on it. The irony was sad really, but he was beyond feeling at that point.

He was trying to make sense of the destruction in her lab. Had the killer actually been looking for something specific or was this done to make it look like a burglary gone bad?

Liam walked up to him.

“How are you holding up?” Mark asked.

“Good. Is there anything you want me to do?” he asked. “I’m still technically off duty and these guys have got things handled.”

“No, you can...wait,” Mark said. “Was there still a video camera in my trunk when you checked?”

“Yeah, whoever it was took the painting but left that.”

“Makes me think that painting, or something like it, was what the killer was after,” Mark said.

“It stands to reason.”

“Can you take that camera and go over and slowly videotape the writing on the last two walls in Heinrich’s house? It’s going to take forever, but the rabbi can’t go to the site so we have to bring the site to him.”

“I can do that.”
“Great. And stop by your house and pick up your gun first. Keep your eyes peeled. I don’t want you getting shot, too. In fact, keep the gun on you until this case is resolved, even when you’re off duty. Got it?”

“I got it,” Liam said.

“Great. Take my car. I’ll get one of the other officers to drop me over there to get it back from you later.”

Liam nodded and headed out after Mark handed him the keys. Mark was glad he’d remembered about the camera. Hopefully he could cajole Jeremiah into finding time to finish the job.

This whole thing was getting more complicated. He just hoped there was something in the old man’s writings that would help him figure this all out. What he wouldn’t give for a name, but he doubted he’d be that lucky.

When was he ever?

Persistent, throbbing pain woke Jeremiah up in the middle of the night. He came to wake slowly, groggy and struggling to remember what had happened. He heard a whisper of sound in the room and he tried to sit up.

Intense, stabbing pain knifed through his arm and he hissed sharply.

“Ssh, it’s alright,” a female voice said.

He recognized it and he struggled for a moment to place it before coming more fully awake and realizing it was Cindy. She was standing above him, bathed in silvery moonlight from the curtains that were partially open across the room. She had a look of concern in her eyes and yet she was smiling at him reassuringly. The moonlight was making her hair shine. She had never looked more beautiful and it took his breath away.

She sat down next to him on the bed, so close her leg was brushing his. His heart began to race and the pain was forgotten in a moment.

“It’s time to take your medication,” she whispered softly.

That was the farthest thing from his mind.

She reached for the water glass on his nightstand and he grabbed her hand instead. The feel of her skin against his was electric.

She needed to know, though, what she was getting herself into. Without that, there could be nothing else.

He pulled her hand down and placed it on his chest. He moved her fingers around, guiding her to different bullet wounds, knife scars.

“What is it?” she asked him, her voice still a whisper.

“You have to know who I was, who I am. I have to tell you.”

It was important and he let her hear the urgency in his voice.

“I know who you are,” she said, her smile growing even more radiant.

“No, you don’t, not really. I have wronged you by not telling you and I’m sorry. I just never expected...you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was not a nice person before I came here. I did things, things you can never forgive me for.”

“You were in the army.”

“No, I did not do these things in the army.”

He had to tell her even as the nearness of her was filling his senses, making him crazy. He had been so afraid to tell her for so long, but if he did not tell her and he took her in his arms he would be sinning against her and G-d. If she came to him it had to be willingly, of her own choice, with all the knowledge he could give her so that she knew what she was doing.

He moved her hand around to more of the scars, her touch making his skin tingle. “This is from the army,” he said, moving her fingers over a jagged knife wound over his ribs, “from hand-to-hand combat training. My training partner was faster than I, more aggressive. He gave this to me. The rest I did not earn in the army.”

“I do not understand.”

He let go of her hand and slid his hand up to cup her cheek and then moved it behind her head, pulling her down closer so that he could look her in the eyes.

“I was someone you would not want to know. I was the nightmare you tell children about.”

“I know who you are Jeremiah Silverman, and you are none of those things.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand, but you will. That’s not even my name.”

He tried to lift his other hand to touch her face and pain roared through him.

She pulled away. “You’re in pain, you’re hallucinating. Here, take this.”

She handed him a couple of pills.

He didn’t want to take them, but the pain was starting to make him dizzy. He popped them in his mouth and then took the water glass she handed him.

He downed the pills, and handed her the glass. She put it back on the nightstand and then stood. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

He stared at her, his vision growing fuzzy. She didn’t want to know. It was his burden to carry, not hers. And so it would remain.