The Lord Is My Shepherd (17 page)

She reread the three articles and noticed only the most basic of similarities with the current string of murders. Finally, she clicked onto the articles linked to Texas. She
read about a man found dead in The Palms Hotel, a currency exchange teller found dead, and another couple dead in a fountain. The final article was the most interesting, though. A friend and fellow church member of the couple had turned up missing the same night.

There was a grainy photo of the missing man who had long hair and a bushy beard. He looked fairly young, but it was hard to make out much from the picture. She did notice his eyes, though. They seemed to pierce right through her. There was something unsettling about them and almost familiar.

The phone rang, and she jumped. She got up and answered it with a sigh. Given the time of night, it could only be one person.

“Oh, honey. You're never going to believe what your brother did!” her mom gushed without greeting.

“Mom—”

“He was kayaking on one of those big rivers. The guide fell out, and Kyle saved his life using nothing but his paddle. His paddle! Can you imagine that?”

“Mom, I'm kind of in the middle of something.”

“Don't tell me you're too busy to hear about your brother's act of heroism,” her mom said with a sniff.

“Mom, there's still a killer on the loose. I've had my house ransacked.”

There was a pause, and for a moment she thought she had gotten through to her mother. Then she heard, “You got it cleaned up, didn't you? A messy house reflects very badly on the people who live in it, regardless of how it got that way.”

“Yes, Mom, I got it cleaned,” she said, letting the sarcasm creep into her voice as she briefly considered kicking her filing cabinet.

“Then problem solved. Now, they were going down one of those dangerous rapids …”

Cindy wondered if her mom would notice if she put the phone down and walked away. She sighed and reached over to close out everything on her computer. Crime solving would have to wait. It was the job of the police to catch the killer, not hers. Apparently, her job in life was to listen to her mother brag about Kyle.

Jeremiah slept late. He checked his cell and felt relief that he hadn't missed any calls. He took it as a good sign that he had not heard from either Mark or Cindy in almost fifteen hours.

The synagogue was closed for the day, so he planned to get in some exercise and do a little reading. Then he would join Marie and her family for Seder at her house. He breathed deeply. It wasn't often he got a true day off, free from the responsibilities of being rabbi. It felt good, and he intended to make use of it.

After breakfast he headed to the park where he liked to jog early in the morning. But it was different with the sun high and far more people around. Lots of fellow joggers waved or greeted him. He saw some families from the synagogue playing together. He waved but kept moving. If he stopped to talk his day would cease to be his own.

He loved being a rabbi, more than he had imagined he would. But there were times when he still craved isolation, quiet. He often thought of his mother and brother back in Israel. He had friends who would check up on them for
him—make sure they were okay. Sometimes it was hard being separated from them.

He jogged by the homeless guy he had met the day before, and the man waved. It had been unnerving for a long time, going out in public and being recognized nearly everywhere he went. His synagogue wasn't the largest, but it was one of the most well established in town, which made him a public figure as far as his congregation was concerned.

After jogging four miles he sprinted for one and then walked a final mile to cool off. He finished up with a couple of quick stretches and then left to avoid running into anyone else he knew.

Running always helped him focus, helped him think through problems. As he headed home he realized he had been thinking through a rather large problem. What to do about Cindy? Like it or not he was involved in the whole serial killer mess, and he had definitely not started out the week with the intention of making a new friend or being someone's Good Samaritan.

He shook his head as he thought of Mark. The detective was smart, he would give him that. Jeremiah would be happy when the killer was caught, and he could just fade back out of the spotlight. Being a rabbi was a tough enough job. He didn't need to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

He smiled. Besides, if he spent any more time with Cindy then Marie would force him to take a “nice Jewish girl” out on a date. She had already threatened. It didn't matter to his secretary that he was helping Cindy cope with death and was acting the part of a big brother. No, to Marie time spent was time spent and he needed to do some balancing out to make it all right. He'd thought about asking Detective Mark
to explain the whole Good Samaritan thing to Marie but had decided it would get him too much attention from both of them.

When he got back to his house his answering machine was flashing to let him know he had a message. He hit play and heard Cindy's voice. “Hi, it's Cindy. Preston. From the church next door.”

He smiled. He could tell from the tone of her voice that there was no immediate crisis and that she was feeling somewhat foolish. He would have to let her know that he only knew one Cindy so she didn't have to spend so long reminding him who she was.

The message continued. “Nothing's wrong. No dead bodies, at least, none that I know of. I was just calling to … I don't know, I was up late doing some research and it looks like this has happened other times in different parts of the country. I didn't want to call the detective, because he was already over at my house last night. I was just hoping to bounce a couple of ideas off of you. Nothing important. It's no big deal, I'll see you later. Maybe. Bye.”

He reached for the phone and then stopped himself. Calling her back was what he shouldn't do, unless he wanted to get in deeper than he already was.
Just let it go. She admitted herself it wasn't important. She's not in danger. She doesn't need you to rescue her.
He took a deep breath and deleted the message.

On her lunch break Cindy checked her phone and was disappointed that Jeremiah hadn't called. Not that she should have expected him to. The murders weren't his problem.
She walked outside and realized there were no cars in the parking lot at the synagogue. She remembered he had told her Monday night that Thursday was a day off for everyone there.

Great. That meant she had called and disturbed him on his day off. It was hard. She felt like there was no one else she could really talk to about it. Geanie listened, but she was frantic with trying to get everything done for all of the extra services, especially the Easter pageant on Saturday night.

That wasn't it, though. On a deep level Geanie just didn't get it. She wasn't there; she didn't trip over the body. She only saw the aftermath. Her house hadn't been ransacked. Neither had Jeremiah's, but he had at least been there for her. He had seen her at her absolute worst. There was no need to be brave or paint a rosier picture. He knew the truth.

She had thought briefly that morning about calling Oliver when she couldn't reach Jeremiah. After all, he had helped her get up the courage to go back to her house. Until the police caught the killer, though, or officially cleared all the Shepherds, she didn't want to risk saying something she shouldn't. Besides, Oliver worked for the newspaper and she knew his editor really wanted him to get as much of the story as he could. It wasn't fair to ask him to keep yet another conversation confidential.

When she walked back inside the office, it was like being hit by a wall of sound. Phones were ringing, a dozen people were talking and running the copy and fax machines. Even the postage machine had been called into duty.

She couldn't deal with it. She had planned on just eating lunch at her desk, but she grabbed it and went back outside. She rolled down the windows of her car and just sat in
it. She wished that she had remembered to stick her other deck of cards in her purse so that she could play a game of solitaire.

She had hoped that in the light of day her theories from the night before would seem crazy. Somehow, though, they just seemed more believable. Texas, Boston, even Raleigh. It was almost as though the murderer had been rehearsing, seeing what worked and what didn't. The first two had been failures since no one recognized that the murders were religiously themed.

How the egomaniac from askgoliath.com had known was a mystery, but it was one she was prepared to live with. In Raleigh things had changed. From what she'd read, though, the murders of the past few days had still been far more specific, more targeted.

He wants everyone to know exactly what he's doing. Well, maybe not everyone
, she thought with a chill. That was the one thing that she hadn't been able to track down for the last three. There had been no single witness to all events in each place. No audience, at least as far as she could detect.

So why was this different? Why had he seemingly chosen her as his audience? Or had he not and she was just incredibly unlucky?

The timing was strange too. First Texas, then a year later Boston, then two years to Raleigh and now Pine Springs, three years later. Why was it taking longer each time to begin? Was it taking more planning on his part? Or was he choosing just the right place? And if the others had really only been dress rehearsals, what was the closing act?

She shivered. She still hoped that since none of the other places seemed to have a killing beyond the washing of the
feet that it was over. Maybe in four years they would catch up with him someplace else.

She resolved there and then that even if the killings stopped she would share with Mark everything that she had learned, so hopefully, if the guy started up again somewhere else some poor church secretary wouldn't have to put the pieces together because the authorities hadn't linked them all.

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Lunch was over. She'd have to wait until after work to call Mark.

Cautiously, she walked back into the office. Things seemed a little quieter, and she suspected that many of the people who had been so busy flitting around had needed to return to their own jobs.

While the office was quieter Geanie seemed more frantic than usual. She hung up the phone with a groan and mimed pulling out her hair.

“Problem?”

“Yes, the woman at the Gazette can't find our ad for the Sunday paper.”

“The one with the Easter message?”

“Yes. I gave it to her two weeks ago so that I could avoid taking the time out to go down there. And, of course, I can't email it since I use a design program they don't.”

“What's your deadline?”

“ASAP!”

“Would it help if I dropped it off?” Cindy asked.

Geanie brightened instantly. “Really? That would be fantastic!”

“If it will help you, then it will help all of us.”

“It's printing now. Angela is the one you need to see.”

Cindy pulled her purse out of its drawer and then grabbed the flyer as it finished printing out. “It's quite stunning this year.”

“Thanks, I was inspired.” Geanie blushed.

“The boyfriend?”

“No …” She looked down.

“Everything okay there?”

“No, great, better than great. It's just, I found I was inspired by all the terrible things that have been happening. You know, the drama of it all. I kept wondering what it would have been like for those who knew and loved Jesus to watch everything that happened. Pain, fear, and yet, it was all so deeply meaningful.”

“That's beautiful,” Cindy said, feeling slightly choked up.

She grabbed a large envelope, slid the flyer inside, and hurried from the office before Geanie could elaborate.

As she headed downtown, Cindy wished she hadn't volunteered. She kept a wary eye out for the yellow police tape and breathed a sigh of relief when she parked at the newspaper without having seen any.

As she walked inside, a bored receptionist glanced up.

Cindy waved the envelope in her hand. “I'm here to drop off something for Angela. I'm from First Shepherd.”