Restoreth My Soul (Psalm 23 Mysteries) (18 page)

In the end she decided that the odds of someone seeing her message in time were quite small compared with the odds that her captors would get impatient or spooked if she took too long getting them to where Heinrich had supposedly hidden the paintings.

To that end she took them on a fairly direct route to Jeremiah’s house, all the while running through different plans in her mind about how she might try to escape or at least get to the phone before they could stop her.

Captain was her ace in the hole. They wouldn’t be expecting the German Shepherd. Hopefully he would buy her the time she needed. He was her best hope. That was part of the reason she had written his name on the table. That and she was fairly certain that only an ally would have any chance of deciphering its meaning.

As they neared the final turn Cindy’s nerves became more and more frayed. If these people had photographs of her going into her home, it was possible they had photographs of Jeremiah and his home, especially since, unlike her, Jeremiah had actually met Heinrich. She practically held her breath as they turned down his street. If they suspected where she was taking them this would be all over.

“That house,” she said, pointing.

“It is not in a storage facility?” Davies asked with a frown.

“Uncle felt that hiding things in houses was safer and less attention getting. That’s why he hid some things in his own home. But most of the collection he hid here.”

They still seemed to be buying the uncle charade and they didn’t seem to recognize the house, both of which boded well for her. She mentally ran through the layout of Jeremiah’s house one more time. She just hoped Captain was ready to greet her at the door.

They pulled up outside the house. Cindy noticed that Jeremiah’s car was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if that meant her message had been received in time for him or Mark to move it or if Jeremiah had just made it back home on his own, taken his car, and left again.

The other two got out of the car and then Davies opened her door and pulled her out. “Let’s see these paintings,” he said, his voice tense.

Cindy walked up toward the front door. There were no lights on. “My uncle gave me a key last week, but it’s in my purse back at my work,” she said.

“It’s no matter,” Davies said as they stepped up onto the front porch. He turned and kept his eyes on the street which was devoid of movement while the woman extracted something from her pocket, bent over, and began working on the locks.

Thirty seconds later she pushed the door open and they all stepped inside. Davies quickly closed the door behind them.

Cindy strained her ears, listening for the sound of Captain’s nails on the floor. There was nothing, though, only silence. Her heart sank. She was going to have to rule out going for the phone in the kitchen since she wouldn’t be able to break free of them.

No matter, there was another phone in the house. She could still get out of this, she told herself. And maybe Captain was asleep.

“Show us where he hid the artwork,” the woman said.

“It’s through here,” Cindy said, as loudly as she dared, in the hopes that it would wake the dog. She stepped into the living room.

“Where is the light switch?” Davies growled.

As if by magic the lamp across the room next to the chair turned on. Sitting in the chair was Jeremiah, a gun pointed at them.

Cindy gasped and ran toward Jeremiah, careful to stay out of his line of fire.

He stood in one swift motion. “Go to the bedroom and shut the door,” he ordered.

She turned in midstride and ran to the room. The door was closed and she turned the knob, opened it just enough to slide inside, and then closed the door again. She then dropped down to the floor in case there was gunfire. Her heart was pounding and she was overwhelmed with relief that she was no longer alone. If Jeremiah had been waiting for them, surely the police were nearby.

She heard a whining sound next to her and she turned to see Captain laying on the ground a few feet away. He wouldn’t come any closer even when she called to him. Jeremiah must have ordered him to stay put.

She turned back to stare at the door, straining to hear what was going on in the rest of the house.

Jeremiah stood, staring down the two kidnappers. His first instinct had been to shoot the man on sight just for good measure and leave the woman alive to answer some questions for him and for the police that were surely on their way.

It had taken all of his willpower not to do it. He had worked so hard for so long to keep Cindy from actually seeing him kill anyone. He wasn’t sure if he had entirely succeeded, but killing the man like that would have definitely scarred her and that was a risk he just wasn’t willing to take.

“First, remove your guns slowly, drop them on the floor and kick them away. Then the three of us are going to have a nice little conversation,” Jeremiah said. “Nod if you understand.”

They both nodded slowly.

“Okay, first you, lady.”

The woman pulled a gun out from the shoulder holster she was wearing under her jacket and dropped it on the floor. She kicked it and sent it skidding underneath the couch.

“Good, your turn,” he said, nodding toward the man.

The woman had played it safe. Whether it was because she was scared or was smart enough to realize that she couldn’t win this one, he didn’t know. The man, on the other hand, had a look in his eyes that he didn’t like. He was going to try something.

“Don’t do it,” Jeremiah warned.

The man reached for the gun slowly, pulled it from its holster, then dove sideways.

Jeremiah fired, shooting him through the heart.

The woman dropped to the floor and reached under the couch in an attempt to retrieve her gun.

“You don’t want to die today,” he said.

She froze and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Your partner’s gone, so it’s just you and I. Why don’t you go sit down at the table before I change my mind and decide to kill you, too?”

She swallowed and then very slowly pulled her hand out from under the couch. She stood up, crossed over to the table, and sat down in the same seat Cindy had eaten breakfast in less than twenty-four hours earlier.

“Good. Now, I want you to tell me everything. Let’s start with something simple. What’s your name?”

“Lisa,” she said.

“Okay, I doubt that’s the truth, but we’ll start there. Now, Lisa, who do you work for?”

Her gaze ticked to the body on the floor.

“No, he was your partner, not your boss. Let’s try again. Who do you work for?” Jeremiah asked, taking a step closer and aiming the gun between her eyes.

“I work for myself,” she bit out.

“Now that is the first thing you’ve said that I believe. So, you don’t work for a boss, no government, I’m guessing you are very interested in art.”

“Who isn’t?” she asked.

“I’m also guessing, that you posed as an auction house representative so that you could search the art gallery to see what you could find.”

“I figured I’d get an early jump on the bidding, buy a couple of pieces outright,” she said flippantly.

Jeremiah studied her carefully. She came across as strong, fearless, but he could see her eyes and he knew the truth. She was terrified. She was just good at putting on a front and fooling people. She’d probably been doing that most of her life.

“How long have you been in town?” he asked.

“A couple of days.”

He was going to change up his line of questioning, let her understand that her only defense was to tell him everything she knew.

Just then there was pounding on the front door. She jumped and turned wide eyes that direction.

There was someone she was far more afraid of than him and she was worried he was the one at the door.

“Come in!” Jeremiah called.

“Wait, you don’t know who that might be,” she said.

“It’s the police,” he told her as the door flew open and Mark ran inside followed by two other officers.

She relaxed noticeably when she saw them.

Mark had his gun out and he stared at Jeremiah in surprise. His eyes swept the area and quickly took in the dead body on the floor. “Where’s Cindy?” he asked.

“Bedroom. She’d probably appreciate it if someone would get the handcuffs off of her.”

“I’m on it,” Liam said as he headed back toward the bedroom.

Less than a minute later he reappeared with Cindy who was pale but appeared unharmed. She was shaking out her hands, clearly relieved to be freed from her restraints.

Captain wasn’t with her. He was impressed the dog had been able to restrain himself and obey orders so long. He’d have to reward him with something extra special later.

“Jeremiah, we’ve got this,” Mark said finally. “You can put down the gun.”

“Not until you check her for other weapons and handcuff her. You’ll find her gun under the couch where she kicked it.”

“Okay,” Mark said, eyeing him warily.

Liam searched the woman and then handcuffed her while the officer Jeremiah didn’t recognize fished the gun out from under the couch. When both tasks were done, Jeremiah slid his gun into the back of his waistband.

Mark turned to the third officer. “Daniels, go search the car outside and see if you can find anything. Make sure you wear gloves.”

The man nodded and left.

“You okay?” Mark asked, turning to look at Cindy.

She nodded.

“Good. Okay, now let’s get down to the bottom of this,” Mark said, pulling out a chair and taking a seat at the table. He waved Jeremiah toward a chair.

“I’ll stand for a while longer,” Jeremiah said.

“Okay, someone catch me up,” Mark said.

Cindy pointed to the woman. “She and a guy kidnapped me.”

“Is that the guy?” Mark asked, pointing to the body.

She turned to look and her face grew ashen. She clearly hadn’t noticed the body until just that moment.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes flying to Jeremiah. He didn’t give any confirmation that he was the one who had shot the man though that clearly had to be what she suspected. She wasn’t stupid. It had been quite a long time between the gunshot and Liam letting her out of the room.

“They pretended to be F.B.I. and kidnapped me from the church.”

“We figured that out when Wildman called,” Mark said.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said. Then she hesitated for a moment. “Was he the only one who called you?”

“Yes,” Jeremiah said, knowing she was wondering why Roy hadn’t said anything. He’d probably have to talk to her about that later.

“Who are they really?” she asked, rubbing her wrists which had red marks on them.

“That’s what we’re hoping to find out,” Mark said.

Cindy sat down on the couch. “They had a bunch of photos of Heinrich. They’d been following him for weeks. The weird thing was, I was in a lot of those pictures because apparently he was following me.”

“He was following you?” Jeremiah asked. That seemed odd. “Are you sure they were real and not just photoshopped?”

“I honestly don’t know. One of them at least was real. It was a picture of me sitting on a bench at the park resting while you and Captain were playing fetch. Heinrich was sitting next to me. I hadn’t even remembered that until I saw the picture.”

Jeremiah leaned forward. He hadn’t seen Heinrich in the park. He hadn’t seen him since that day at the synagogue back in May until he’d been standing over his dead body a few days ago. “Did he say anything to you in the park?”

“They asked me the same thing,” Cindy said. “I finally remembered sitting next to him. He was watching you and Captain play. And he said ‘he seems like a good man.’ I wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to me or even talking about you. I said, ‘yes, he is,” in case he was. That was it. He got up and left.”

“That was what, about three weeks ago?” Jeremiah asked.

Cindy nodded.

Had Heinrich been following him as well without his knowing it? The thought terrified him. How could he have missed something like that? He felt himself break out into a cold sweat.

Daniels came in from outside. “I did a quick search. I found these in the front seat, nothing else,” he said, putting a phone and a folder down on the table. He handed Mark an extra pair of gloves which the Detective slipped on before flipping open the folder.

“Looks like some of those pictures you were talking about, Cindy.” He pulled one out and showed it to Jeremiah. It was indeed Cindy and Heinrich sitting together on a bench in the park.

Jeremiah shook his head. Clearly he had been too busy playing with Captain to notice. That wasn’t a good sign at all.

Next Mark picked up the phone. He pushed a few buttons and frowned. “Some of these numbers seem awfully familiar.”

Jeremiah glanced at the woman. She looked cornered. “Something wrong?” he asked her.

“Hold on,” Daniels said. “Detective, turn your phone back on. I’m going to call it.”

Mark pulled out his phone and turned it on. A moment later Daniels called it. Mark’s phone rang and so did the one on the desk. He answered his phone and then the other one. A look of fury settled on his face.

“You! You paired my phone. It was you who killed the art restorer,” he shouted.

No wonder she had looked cornered when the phone was discovered, Jeremiah realized.

“I want to talk to a lawyer,” the woman said.

“I’m afraid that won’t help you much,” a voice said from the front door which Daniels had left open.

Jeremiah glanced up. Albert, the German who had visited him in his office, was standing there, filling the doorway.

Mark jumped to his feet, drawing his weapon, and training it on the German. His mind raced, wondering what the man was doing there and where his compatriots were at that moment.

“It’s okay, Detective,” Albert said.

“Sit down, Mark. It’s fine,” Jeremiah said, his voice completely calm and unruffled.

“What is he doing here?” Mark asked.

“I invited him,” Jeremiah said. “We had a nice phone conversation wherein he admitted to me who he really is.”

“And that would be?” Cindy asked.

“BKA,” Jeremiah said.

“For those of us playing at home that would be, what?” Mark asked.

“Bundeskriminalamt,” Albert said.

“Still not helpful,” Mark said, feeling his temper begin to slip.

“The Federal Criminal Police Office of Germany,” Jeremiah supplied. “They handle cases related to international organized crime and terrorism among other things.”

“So, you’re a cop,” Mark said.

“Essentially,” Albert said.

“Then let’s see your identification.”

Albert pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. Liam stepped forward and looked it over. “That’s what it says,” he confirmed.

Mark slowly holstered the weapon.

“Why not tell us that up front?”

“You have to understand, the theft of art and cultural treasures is a very...sensitive subject. And it is hard to know who you can trust, who is involved and who isn’t. Until I knew more about the situation, I couldn’t risk revealing myself to anyone.”

“So, instead you just came off as a thug. What were you trying to do?” Mark said.

“I was hoping that if you were involved you would think of me as either a corrupt politician or someone involved with the antiquities black market.”

“Corrupt politician had my vote,” Mark admitted.

“I thought you were some sort of spy or something doing dark things for your country,” Cindy said.

He smiled. “While it is regrettable that the type of man you are describing is a necessary evil in this world, I am not one of those.”

“So, what are you doing in southern California?” Cindy asked.

“I’ve been here for several months. We received a tip from an art dealer here in Pine Springs. His father used to be a part of the black market trade, but he was not. His specialty was art restoration and although he did not traffic in high-end art, he did recognize a piece that a customer brought in to have him clean. Apparently someone had carelessly spilled some paint on it.

“He contacted us, and told us he believed it to be a piece that once belonged to a museum in Berlin, a Rubens, one of his pieces on the Conversion of St. Paul, thought destroyed in a fire in 1945. He was advised that investigators would have to be sent out to authenticate the piece, but he was concerned about the tight deadline the customer had given him and as he did not know the man’s last name or contact information he was afraid the piece would be lost.