Obsession (25 page)

Abe's jaws twitched. He had a feeling his uncle was referring to more than his recent involvement in trying to track down information on Toni's father's death. He decided to let it pass. It was a topic they had not discussed in many years, and he wasn't about to reopen it now.

“So, they want me as part of a task force on the Julie Greene investigation. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?”

Sol raised his dark eyebrows in surprise, the picture of innocence. “What do you mean? I'm just a retired cop. What have I got to do with anything that goes on around here?”

Abe smiled in spite of himself. “Probably a lot more than you let on, and don't give me that innocent look. I know you, remember? I know how you can drop hints, make suggestions, even call in favors.”

“So sue me. Look, I'd rather have you involved in this thing officially than risk seeing you poke your nose in where it doesn't belong and get it chopped off. Do you get my drift?”

“OK. No problem. I'll keep my nose where it belongs.”

“That would be a relief.” He got up from his chair and turned to leave, then stopped. “I understand this girl had a miscarriage before she died. What do you make of that?”

“I don't know. Why?”

Sol shrugged. “No reason. Just… wondering. Thought maybe it might tie in somewhere with that suspected baby ring that Matthews guy mentioned in the file.”

“I don't see how. Why? You don't think…?”

“Not anymore than I have to, boy. At least, not about things that are none of my business. Might be a good idea if you learned to do the same.”

He paused, staring down at Abe as if waiting for his nephew to absorb the full impact of his comment. Then he walked out, pulling the door shut behind him.

It was not quite noon on Saturday, and the sun had already burned off the morning clouds, promising a perfect day for a picnic. Toni, seated at the kitchen table, wished she could absorb some of Melissa's excitement. She watched her little sister, dressed in typical teenage attire of baggy shorts and T-shirt—which did not completely hide the burgeoning woman underneath—scurrying around, filling the picnic basket with more food than the three of them would ever eat in one afternoon. She had to admit, though, that Melissa's nonstop chatter since early that morning was beginning to get on her nerves.

“I'm so glad we're doing the food this time,” said Melissa, folding some napkins and tucking them into the basket. “It seems like Brad's always doing everything. He takes us out to eat or brings something over here or has us over to his parents' house. He deserves to be waited on for a change. And he loves your fried chicken. I just hope he likes my potato salad.”

“I'm sure he will. Besides, when have you ever known Brad to turn down food of any kind?”

Melissa laughed. “That's true. Do you think we have enough fruit and cookies?”

“I think we have more than enough of everything.”

The phone rang and Melissa raced to answer it. “Mrs. Lippincott. How are you? I'm… really sorry about Julie. Just a minute. I'll put Toni on.”

Toni, still seated, took the phone. “April, how are you?” “

As well as can be expected, thank you. And you?”

“Oh, we're… fine. We're just waiting for Brad to pick us up and take us on a picnic.”

“How nice. Do say hello for me.” She paused. “I thought you would want to know that we will be having the memorial service for Julie on Wednesday afternoon. The associate pastor will be speaking rather than my son-in-law. He decided he just wasn't able to handle it.”

“I… can imagine.” Toni reached for something else to say but came up empty.

“Toni…” April sounded hesitant. “I was thinking that after the service next week I might come back to River View. I know there's nothing I can do there, and I certainly don't want to be in the way, but I just want so desperately to be near where the investigation is taking place. Oh, I hope this doesn't sound macabre, but… I want—I
need
—to see where they found my Julie.” Her voice broke. “I hope you can understand.”

Toni's heart went out to the woman. She wished she could reach through the phone and hold her close. “Of course I understand, and you won't be in the way at all. In fact, Melissa and I have missed you since you left. We would love it if you'd come back for a while. But there's only one thing.”

“What's that, my dear?”

“No hotel this time. You're staying with us.”

“Oh, no. I don't want to impose….”

“No imposition—and no arguments. You just let us know when you're coming, and we'll have the spare room ready for you.”

“Well, if you're sure…”

Toni looked at Melissa. She was smiling and nodding her head. “Positive,” Toni said. “We're already looking forward to it.”

She had no sooner hung up the phone than Brad arrived. Melissa let him in, and after giving him a quick hug, went to her room, ostensibly to retrieve her journal, but, Toni thought, more than likely to give her and Brad a few moments alone. Brad took immediate advantage of the opportunity, gathering Toni into his arms and kissing her tenderly before gazing down into her eyes.

“I was hoping we'd have a minute or two to ourselves,” he said, smiling excitedly. “The autopsy report is in, Julie's case is officially under investigation, and now we can set a wedding date. Why not pick one right now? Today. Then we can make it official by telling Melissa before we tell anyone else. What do you say? When can I finally start calling you Mrs. Anderson?”

Toni swallowed. She
had
promised to settle on a date as soon as the autopsy report was done, and now she couldn't think of a single reason to postpone it any longer. “Let's go into the kitchen and look at the calendar.”

Brad's eyes opened wide. “Seriously? Right now?”

“Right now.”

Toni took the calendar off the wall by the refrigerator and laid it on the kitchen table. Then they sat down and flipped the calendar open to the month of November.

“I assume you'd prefer a Saturday?” Brad asked.

“Is that OK with you?”

Brad leaned over and kissed her again. “Sweetheart, any day—or night—is OK with me. Just pick a date so I can start the countdown.”

She smiled, then looked back at the calendar. “Thanksgiving is on the twenty-fifth. How about Saturday, the twenty-seventh?”

“A Thanksgiving wedding. What a great idea. That's perfect.”

“What's perfect?” Melissa asked, walking up behind them.

Brad turned to look at her, his eyes shining. “Toni and I have set a wedding date. Saturday, November twenty-seventh, two days after Thanksgiving. What do you think?”

Melissa squealed with delight, dropped her journal on the floor, and threw her arms around both of them. “That's incredible! Oh, I am Really. Just a bit tired from all this stop-and-go driving. happy! Where's it going to be? What time? Do I get to be a bridesmaid?”

Toni and Brad laughed. “Take it easy,” Toni cautioned. “Let me get used to all this one step at a time.”

Melissa was soon chattering nonstop again, but this time about the wedding. As she and Brad carried everything out to the car, Toni
started out the door behind them, only to be stopped by the phone. She had no sooner picked up the receiver than she wished she hadn't. The familiar muffled voice greeted her on the other end.

“You're doing real good there, Toni, minding your own business. Keep up the good work and no one will get hurt.”

“Who is this?” Toni demanded, resolving to get a caller I.D. installed on their phone first thing Monday morning.

“I told you before, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you pay attention to what I told you. Understand?”

The phone clicked, and Toni stood staring at the receiver. How long was this going to go on? She had tried repeatedly to convince herself that it was some cruel joke, that it was best to ignore the calls until whoever it was got tired of making them. Now she was beginning to wonder if she should report the calls to the police.

Her heart jumped. If only things were different with Abe. If only she could talk to him, tell him about the calls, he would know what to do. Should she…?

Brad honked the horn just as Melissa yelled through the screen door, “Are we going on a picnic or not? Come on, let's celebrate!”

Celebrate? How do I do that?
With one last glance at the phone, she turned toward the front door. “Coming,” she called. The mysterious phone calls would just have to wait.

CHAPTER 12

A
be's muscles ached, and his stomach felt empty. Glancing at his watch, he was amazed to see how late it was. He hadn't realized how long he had been sitting in his recliner and reading. It was almost eight o'clock Sunday evening, and he had spent the majority of the weekend in that very spot, studying his uncle's
Tanakh
—and trying not to think of Toni. Having finished
Mal'akhi
, the last of the prophets, he closed the book, stood up, and stretched. Before getting into the last of the three sections, the
K'tuvim
, or writings, he had some thinking to do. He decided he could best do that on a full stomach.

When he opened the refrigerator, he realized his options were severely limited. He could have a bowl of cereal with very little milk or leftover spaghetti. In spite of the fact that the spaghetti was several days old, it was an easy choice. Popping the bowl of pasta into the
microwave, he opened a can of soda and sat down on a stool at the counter to await the bell that would announce his feast.

What is it, he wondered, that tied the messages of all these prophets together? What did they have in common? It seemed that most of them spent the majority of their time calling Israel to repentance and warning them of the consequences if they did not respond—which, time and again, they didn't. It also seemed that these prophets believed in the future appearance of a literal, physical Messiah who would redeem and restore their nation. That had really grabbed Abe's attention because it seemed that so few Jewish people still hoped or believed in a coming Messiah, at least not a literal one. There were, of course, exceptions, Aunt Sophie being one of them. But Uncle Sol and so many others—even some of the religious Jews—had relegated the idea of a Messiah to a type of government or social order, manmade and militarily protected. What little thought Abe himself had ever given to a Messiah had been pretty much restricted to that same viewpoint. Now he was suddenly faced with the realization that if the words of the
Tanakh
were true, if they were to be taken literally and not figuratively, then God really had promised to send a Messiah, and as far as he could see, that Messiah had to be an actual person. If that were the case, what was taking so long? Where had this Messiah been through all the long, dark years of Israel's history? Hadn't his people suffered enough for their so-called sins? Now that the nation had been reestablished and the Jews were going home again, which was so clearly prophesied throughout the
Tanakh
, particularly in
Yechezk'el
37, why didn't this Messiah appear to establish his kingdom and assure the peace and safety of the promised land? Wouldn't this be the obvious time for him to arrive on the scene?

The bell dinged and he retrieved his dinner from the microwave, then returned to his perch at the counter. Steam rose from the bowl as he stirred the stale contents. He really needed to get to the grocery store soon. He had planned to do so this weekend, but he had gotten so engrossed in reading that he hadn't bothered. Now that the
cupboards were bare, he had no choice, short of another home-delivered pizza. And, as much as he enjoyed pizza, even that was beginning to get tiresome.

He sighed, thinking how nice it would be if he could call Toni and invite her out for dinner somewhere. How many times he had dreamed of being able to do just that. At least before, he could hope. Now even his hopes were gone. It wasn't much consolation knowing that she had feelings for him but was unwilling to break her commitment to Brad. He supposed he admired her for that, but such an admirable trait only made it harder to let her go.

Still, let her go he must. He had to move on with his life. Although he certainly wasn't yet at a place where he could consider dating other women, he could at least find something else to fill the huge empty space in his heart. For now, he supposed, that would have to be his job, and of course, his studies in the
Tanakh.

He took a bite of spaghetti and shook his head. It amazed him that he was spending so much time reading anything, let alone the sacred Scriptures. Beyond a mild curiosity as a child, he had never had any interest in the book. Now, here he was, researching it in detail as if it were the most important case he had ever investigated.

Grabbing a piece of scratch paper from beside the phone, he began to make some notes.
Blood sacrifice
, he wrote,
key issue in the Torah section. A call to repentance and the promise of a coming messiah, key issues of the prophets.
Studying what he had written, he wondered how it all tied together. Blood sacrifice, call to repentance, coming messiah. Would the final section, the writings, give him the answer? He hoped so. He sensed that he would be terribly disappointed to have spent all this time studying the ancient book only to find that it did not contain whatever it was he was searching for.