The Lord Is My Shepherd (26 page)

He jumped to his feet and crossed to her. He steered her inside and into a chair and then closed the door. “Olivia, you should be at—”

She looked up at him with pain-filled eyes, and he stopped speaking. He had been about to tell her she should be at home, but that was the last place she should be.

“Do you have other family members you should call?” he asked quietly, hoping there was someone who could be with her.

She nodded. “My cousin. She won't be here until tomorrow. Rabbi, why did this happen?”

Because bad things happen to good people. Because some crazy guy has a grudge to settle. Because police in four states couldn't put an end to a killing spree spanning nearly a decade. Because your parents were warm, generous people, and I gave them my blessing to invite the neighbors over. Because it was their time to go. Because suffering is common to the children of Israel. Because no one is ever truly safe.

He rejected every answer as they crowded his brain. None of them would help the young woman sitting in front of him. His words in the next few minutes and her experiences in the next few days would dictate whether or not she would ever again know happiness or peace or safety.

He reached out and took her hand and looked her in the eyes. “Olivia, I do not know why Adonai chose to let this happen. I do know this, there is a purpose for you on this earth, work for you to do, joy for you to own, and sorrows for you to share. If this were not true, you would have been allowed to go with them.”

“You really believe that, Rabbi?” she asked.

He closed his eyes for a moment and saw the faces of everyone he had ever lost. Friends, family, colleagues. “I have to,” he said, unable to fight the huskiness that crept into his voice. “The first duty of the living is to continue to live.”

She nodded, and he knew that she understood. “You're going to be okay,” he told her.

He prayed with her, using the moments to regain his composure. He would not have wished Olivia to be the first of his congregation to have to speak with that day, but he was glad that it had happened that way.

When they were finished talking he led her back into the main office. Paul had left, and Marie answered multiple phone lines. When she turned and saw Olivia her jaw dropped and she put her caller on hold. Jeremiah smiled. Somehow Olivia had walked past Marie unseen as evidenced by Marie's surprise at seeing her now. Good for her. Normally it was impossible to bypass his gatekeeper.

“Olivia has a cousin arriving in town tomorrow. Until then—”

“Say no more. Olivia, you'll stay with us. Let me just give Eric a call, and he can pick you up here.”

Olivia looked questioningly at Jeremiah, and he nodded approval. “That's just what I had in mind,” he said. Despite her flaws, there was no one better than Marie when someone was in trouble and needed a safe harbor. She and her family were always the first to respond in the face of tragedy with compassion and generosity that were overwhelming.

If only he had communicated Cindy's trauma and need more clearly, the Seder might have gone a lot smoother, he realized. A lesson learned.

A few minutes later he helped Olivia into Eric's car. Returning to the office he pulled a chair up next to Marie's desk. “How bad is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Everyone knows.”

“And I'm assuming that really does mean everyone?”

She nodded. “I've had calls from at least one member of every family.”

“And what have you been saying?”

“I've confirmed the deaths only. I've told them that for more information about what happened or services, they'll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“So, they'll be expecting an announcement from me.”

“Yes.”

“Good enough. Couldn't do much better than that. Anyone stop by besides Olivia?”

“No, but the police just left, so I suspect they'll start coming out of the woodwork.”

“I think you're right about that. Well, let's see what we can do to take control early.”

“Fifteen minutes per person?”

“Yes.”

“I know you hate that,” Marie said earnestly, “but not everyone will respect the fact that there are others besides them that will need to talk.”

“I know.”

“If we get more than three waiting at a time, I'll cut that to ten-minute meetings,” she warned.

“Sounds fair.”

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Yes, can you have some food delivered? I ate a long time ago, and I need some fuel.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Marie. I'll be in the office.”

The hospital staff transferred Cindy to a room, and Mark went with her. He kept tabs on Oliver's condition and was pleased when he heard that the little girl had been released with only three stitches. Paul had a chance to talk to her and he had stopped by Cindy's room to let Mark know that she hadn't seen his face.

Cindy was still their best shot at identifying the killer. What Jeremiah had said about the officers who had been assigned to watch Oliver had struck a nerve, and Mark had decided that he would wait until Cindy woke up. He had already been over everything in the war room a dozen times and wasn't likely to come up with anything new there.

He dozed on and off as he waited. At noon he got a call from Jeremiah's secretary wanting an update on Cindy's status. He told her there was no change, and she informed him that he should call as soon as she woke up. He smiled as he hung up with her. Jeremiah's secretary sounded like someone he wouldn't want to cross.

A knock on the door made him look up. He recognized one of the staff members from First Shepherd. He was pretty sure it was the youth pastor. He carried a bouquet of flowers.

“Is it okay if I come in?” he asked.

Mark nodded. “Wildman, right?”

The pastor flushed. “Yeah, but you can call me Dave.”

“Okay, Dave.”

“You're Detective Walters, yeah?”

“Yeah, name's Mark.”

“Cool. Is she going to be okay?” he said, looking at Cindy.

Mark had to admit that she didn't look good. She was white as a ghost, and the bandages on her head did nothing to bring any color to her cheeks. An array of tubes had been hooked up to her arms and pumped oxygen into her nose. A large and clunky cast dwarfed her broken foot. Bandages covered both hands and arms. She looked like half of a mummy.

“I sincerely hope so. The truth is the next few hours will tell us a lot. How are things at the church?”

“How do you think?” Dave said, rolling his eyes. “It's a madhouse, and the lunatics are running the place.”

“By lunatics do you mean the head pastor and the music pastor?”

“How did you know?” Dave asked. He looked genuinely surprised.

“They struck me as not enjoying each other's company all that much.”

“I'm not sure either of them actually went to kindergarten. They have no concept of what sharing is.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Dave,” Mark said.

It wasn't his most professional line of questioning, but he was so exhausted he couldn't even reach for his notepad. He also had a feeling that something official might scare off the youth pastor.

Dave sighed and sat in a chair. “You really want to know what I think?”

“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know.”

“I think that neither of them should have gone into ministry. Gus would be happier with a career in theater, and Roy would have been very well suited to a career that kept him away from people.”

“Accountant?”

“Still too much interaction.”

“Wow. Forest ranger?”

“Frankly, I think bears are probably too much like people.”

Mark laughed. “That's funny.”

“Thanks. It's either laugh or cry, you know?”

“Is that why everyone says you're bipolar?”

Anger flared in Dave's eyes and died out a moment later. “I guess. It's hard being a youth pastor, you know? It takes a level of energy and enthusiasm that is really difficult to maintain emotionally and physically. You've got to be up, up, up!”

“Until you can stop at which point you crash down, down, down,” Mark guessed.

Dave sighed. “I don't get all depressed. I just enjoy being quiet and still. One person says bipolar, and shazam! You're stuck with a label.”

“I can think of worse ones.”

“Me, too. Like coma patient.” Dave glanced at Cindy.

“Let me ask you something. I'm guessing you know at this point about the whole serial killer thing.”

“That cat is well and truly out of the bag,” Dave said with a snort.

“Yeah, not sure how long it was even in the bag,” Mark said.

“Not your fault.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Okay, so, what would come after crucifixion?”

“Well, his followers put Jesus in the tomb and hid out in the upper room, hoping not to get busted by the cops themselves. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken. Go on.”

“Then the stone is rolled away, angels appear to the Roman guards, the women find the tomb empty, Jesus appears to them as individuals and then to the group altogether. Shazam! That's Easter.”

“Yeah, that's Easter. So, what next then? The crucifixion is the biggie. Wouldn't it just stop there?”

“No, the biggie is the Resurrection. The death is necessary sacrifice, lamb of God, all that stuff. Very tied into Judaism, by the way. No, what makes Christ different than all other sacrifices is that he comes back to life. Good Friday is death. Easter Sunday is life.”

“Okay, fine. So, what would you do next if you were a serial killer then?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Off the record?”

“I'm a cop, not a journalist.”

“Sorry. Okay, let me think. If I were a serial killer, I think I'd go for the empty tomb and the guards.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. That way I could kill a lot of Romans all at once and in a cemetery. Cool. Can you imagine how awesome that would look if you set the scene just right? You wouldn't need Jesus for that one, because the tomb is empty. For added effect you could even add an angel or two. Maybe have them pushing the stone.”

“Okay, and that would be the end?”

“Not even,” Dave said. “For my finale, I would wipe out the entire upper room.”

“And the entire upper room would be what exactly?”

“The church,” Dave said, leaning his head back against the wall. “I'd wipe out the entire church.”

“The entire church?” Mark asked, sitting up straight.

“Sha-zam.”

Cindy woke up screaming. Pain surged through her. When she opened her eyes, faces surrounded her. She looked for someone she knew and finally saw Mark standing in the corner watching her. He smiled weakly at her.

“What happened?” she croaked.

“You're in the hospital,” he answered.

She glanced at a doctor and a few nurses. They were smiling at least. “Am I okay?”

“Yes, you're very lucky,” the doctor said cheerfully. “You only suffered a few injuries.”

She closed her eyes and began drifting off to sleep. But she didn't want to sleep. There was something she had to tell Mark. She shook herself awake and saw Mark sitting in a chair beside her bed. The rest had gone, and she had a feeling that a little time had passed.

“Oliver, you have to save him.”

“It's okay. You saved him. We showed up in time. He's here, and they're taking good care of him. Now can you tell me what happened to you?”

She struggled to sit up.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked.

“I've got a lot to do today.”

“The only thing you have to do today is tell me what happened and then get some rest.”

“I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Fortunately, Jeremiah and I got there in time to keep that from happening.”

“Jeremiah, but I didn't call him, did I?”

“No, he was with me.”

“What was he doing with you?”

“We can get to that later. Right now, I need you to focus and tell me what happened to you,” Mark said. “The more you can tell me, the better our chances of stopping this guy.”

“He said his name was Karl.”

“When he grabbed you?”

“No, when he showed up earlier this week at the church. He asked me to give a message to Oliver. He said his name was Karl. Tall, sandy hair, light eyes.”