Obsession (34 page)

“When was the last time you ate something?”

Remembering the uneaten spaghetti of the night before, she realized it had been more than twenty-four hours. “Yesterday, at lunch. I… really haven't thought about it since then, but I'm not hungry. I just need to lie down for a few minutes.”

“Good. You do that, right here on the couch, but I'm going out to the kitchen and fix you something to eat.”

“But I'm not—”

“I don't care whether you're hungry or not. I'm going to fix you something, and then I'm going to sit here while you eat it.”

She gave him another weak smile as she stretched out on the couch. “All right. Please, don't go to a lot of trouble. Anything will do.”

“That's good, because anything is what you'll get. Cooking is not my strong point.”

As she lay there listening to him rummaging around in the refrigerator and cupboards, she wondered at the poor timing that seemed to characterize their relationship. She had thought, once she was free of her commitment to Brad, that she would be able to think about Abe more objectively. Now, if anything, she felt less objective than ever. Her heart yearned for this man yet condemned her selfishness for even thinking about him at a time when her sister's life could be in danger. Besides, there was still the major obstacle of Abe's not being a believer. Still, he had said he was praying…

He came in quietly, carrying a tray, which he set on the coffee table. “I thought you might have fallen asleep,” he said as he sat down beside her.

“Then I'd miss your meal.”

“You wouldn't be missing much, I guarantee you.”

“I have to admit, I'm so tired you'd think I'd drift off, but… I can't keep from thinking about… everything.”

“I know. Here, I made you some soup. I thought that might be a little easier on your stomach than leftover spaghetti. It's canned, of course. Like I said, cooking isn't my thing.”

“Soup is fine. Really. It's… sweet of you to do this for me.”

For the first time since she had known him, Abe appeared self-conscious. She thought he might even be blushing a bit. She looked away to give him a chance to regroup. Sitting up, she tasted the soup. “Chicken noodle. Not bad.”

“Thanks. It's one of my few specialties.”

She had taken only a couple of spoonfuls when the phone rang. Reaching over to grab the receiver, she prayed it was something good about Melissa.

“Toni? How are you? I just heard about Melissa. Is there any news?”

“Brad. I… No, nothing yet, I'm afraid.”

She glanced at Abe. He had suddenly become engrossed in studying the carpet, undoubtedly even more self-conscious than he had been a few moments earlier.

“Is there anything I can do?” Brad asked. “We're all praying, of course, but…”

“Thank you. Prayer is the most important thing right now. We're… all doing a lot of that.”

There was a pause. Finally Brad said, “Well, I'm sure you have a lot going on right now, so I'll… let you go. Please… call me if there's anything you need, or…”

“I will. Thank you, Brad… for everything.”

She hung up the phone and looked again at Abe. He raised his head and fixed his eyes on hers. There was a sadness in his expression that only increased the longing in her heart. Should she tell him that she and Brad were no longer engaged? Would he misunderstand, take it as an encouragement to once again pursue their relationship? The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to give him false hope, and yet she didn't want him to hear about it from someone else.

“I… need to tell you something.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Brad and I are no longer engaged.”

She wasn't sure what she had expected, but she had definitely thought she would see some sort of visible reaction. Instead, Abe didn't move, and the sadness in his face remained.

“I know,” he said finally. “I read it in Melissa's journal. She was… very upset about it—to the point of not wanting to come home.”

Of course. She should have known that Melissa had written about it in her journal. “When I… told her about it Monday night she ran
to her room in tears. We haven't…” Toni's voice cracked again, and the tears returned. “We haven't spoken since. Oh, Abe, it's my fault, you know. All of this is my fault.”

As he gathered her into his arms, she leaned against his chest, grateful for his strength and longing for his love, but all she could do was cry as he reassured her time and again that it was not her fault, that it was his, and that he was so very, very sorry.

By the time Abe dragged himself into his apartment that evening, he was exhausted. In addition to the guilt he felt about not telling Toni—or anyone else—about the call he had received the previous night, he'd had little or no sleep since Melissa's disappearance, and it was starting to catch up with him. He knew he should get to bed as early as possible, but ever since he had left Toni's house a few hours earlier to go to the station, he'd had a nagging feeling that there was something he had to take care of before the day was over. He only wished he knew what it was.

He checked his answering machine, but there were no calls that needed to be dealt with before morning, so he grabbed a frozen dinner and put it in the microwave. Collapsing into his recliner with a stack of mail, he flipped through it, tossing most of it into a wastepaper can near his chair. The only two pieces worth keeping were bills, and they could wait.

Closing his eyes, he rehearsed the events of the day, particularly his time with Toni. How ironic that she was finally free from her engagement to Brad, but he wasn't free to pursue their relationship because he knew that as soon as his past came to light—which he was sure it would any day now—she would want nothing more to do with him. He had never imagined that he would have to pay so dearly for his youthful indiscretions more than ten years after having committed them.

When the microwave bell rang, he plopped down on a stool beside the kitchen counter to eat his dinner. The New Testament he had purchased on Monday morning, just two days earlier, sat on the counter beside him. Could this be what had been nagging at him, the thing he needed to do before he went to bed that night? He had spent the entire day on Monday studying it, taking notes and pondering what he had read, but it had almost seemed to introduce more questions than it answered. Still, as tired as he was, it was as if it were calling to him.

He picked it up and began to read where he had left off Tuesday morning before going to work. It was a book called Hebrews, and it caught his attention right away. Although he had recognized references to the
Tanakh
from the moment he began reading Matthew, the connection in Hebrews was astonishing. There were many references to the sacrificial laws and the need for blood sacrifices, the high priest, the tabernacle, the failure of the Jewish people to listen to and obey God's teachings and the warnings of his prophets…. Was this what he had been looking for? Was he finally going to get his questions answered? His dinner forgotten, Abe began to underline key verses and words, making notes on a piece of paper as he read. By the time he had finished reading Hebrews, he was astonished. He laid down his pencil and looked at the notes he had made. It was clear that he had been right about what he had surmised from reading the
Tanakh:
the shedding of blood was absolutely necessary for the forgiveness of sins. He had wondered what his people did to atone for their sins now that there was no more Temple in which to offer sacrifices. Here, in black and white, was his answer. According to the writer of Hebrews, the previous sacrifices of bulls and goats and other animals were only temporary coverings for the people's sins, offered in anticipation of the perfect sin offering yet to come. That perfect offering, if he was to believe what he had just read, was God's only Son, Jesus, or
Yeshua
in Hebrew.

He closed the book and stared at his notes. Did he believe what he had read, or didn't he? That's what it all boiled down to now. If he did
believe it, then he could see only one course of action. Moving back to his recliner where it was more comfortable, he reopened the book and flipped back to the first four books, the Gospels. Determined to know the truth, he began to reread Matthew, studying carefully every word that this Jesus spoke. By the time he was finally halfway through the Gospel of John, he was reading with tears in his eyes.

God, is it true? Is this Jesus really your Son? He says right here that he is the only way to get to you, the Father. If that's so, it's because of his blood, isn't it? He didn't deserve to die because he never sinned, so his blood…
The tears were streaming now, and he could no longer see the words to read them. He set the book in his lap and covered his face with his hands.
His blood was the acceptable sacrifice, wasn't it? The eternal, unblemished sacrifice that Hebrews talks about. That's why there's no more temple, no more sacrifice of bulls or goats. It's not necessary anymore because… Oh, God, is it possible? Did his blood pay for my sins too?
For mine?
Because if it did, then maybe you can forgive me for all the years… all the things I did… and didn't do… everything. I need your forgiveness, God. Please, because of what your Son did, forgive me… and please, please don't let Melissa and Toni be hurt because of what I did. Protect them, God, please…

Melissa had lost all track of time. Lorraine came in occasionally to take her to the bathroom or give her something to eat or drink, but she wouldn't answer any of her questions or converse with her in any way other than to warn her to shut up and not try anything funny, as if she could, Melissa thought. The only respite she had from the horribly uncomfortable position on the cot was when Lorraine took her to the bathroom. Even her meals were eaten sitting on the bed, blindfold intact. Her wrists and ankles were raw from the ropes that chafed her constantly, being untied only long enough for bathroom or meal breaks. Even then, Lorraine was right beside her every minute. At
times, as Melissa lay in the ever-present darkness, she wondered if she might go crazy before they killed her. She had almost begun to believe it would be easier that way.

How she longed to be back in her own room, to see Toni again and to tell her she forgave her and loved her, even if she didn't marry Brad. Now she would probably never have the chance. Poor Toni. This must be awful for her. She assumed Toni had called the police and that they were looking for her—at least, she certainly hoped so—and she wondered if Abe was involved in the investigation. The man named Raymond had spoken as if he knew Abe, as if he had something on him and thought he could get him to help them somehow. Melissa didn't like Abe much, but she had never thought of him as the criminal type. Surely he couldn't be as dangerous as the people who held her captive.

She tried not to allow herself to think of what these same people had done to Julie, or what Lorraine and Raymond had done to Carlo, although she had wondered at how Carlo had died. It had been quick and instantaneous, as if he had been shot, and yet she had heard no sound. Could it be that they had used a silencer, the kind she had seen so often on TV and in movies? Whatever their method of assassination, it had become quite obvious to her that if she had any chance at all of getting out of her situation alive, it would have to be because someone else found her and rescued her. Did anyone even know where she was though?

You know, God. You're the only One who knows. Please, please help me. Send someone. Show somebody where I am, please!

A door opened and closed, and she heard men's voices in the adjacent room with Lorraine. Melissa froze. Had Raymond returned to kill her? Who was with him?

As before, she could not understand Lorraine's words when she spoke, but most of what the men said was clear to her. She recognized Raymond's voice, but who were the others? She strained to hear, and Raymond spoke first.

“Well, it looks as if everything's been going all right here while I was gone.”

Lorraine said something, and then another male voice said, “And just what are we going to do with the girl? We can't let her go home even if Abe buys us the time we need. She's already recognized Lorraine, and if she figures out Bruce is involved—”