The Lord Is My Shepherd (3 page)

“Right or left?” he asked.

“Right. Then right on Stanton,” she said.

She looked at Jeremiah sideways. “I thought you were the murderer when I first saw you.”

“Lucky for you I wasn't.” He glanced at her and smiled.

“Yeah, lucky.”

“It explains why you tried to get away from me, though.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be. You were terrified, and I came out of nowhere. You seem better now.”

“It helped to leave.”

“Not surprising,” he said. “Sometimes a little sunshine can chase the shadows away.”

“I like that.”

He turned onto Stanton Street. “Now where?”

“Turn right at the signal,” she told him, forcing her eyes back to the road.

He nodded and slowed as he made the turn. “You're the church secretary?”

“Yes.”

“So basically you run the church?”

She laughed, and the sound surprised her. “I'm not sure that the pastor would agree with you.”

“Then he's an idiot.”

“I wouldn't say that,” she said.

“I would. Marie, the secretary at the synagogue, is like the field marshal. She schedules meetings and events, makes sure everyone knows what they're doing every day, keeps the staff informed of what's going on, listens to everybody's problems and tries to solve them all.”

“That pretty much sums up my job. So, what is it you do at the synagogue? I think you probably said, but I don't remember much of the last hour.”

“I'm the rabbi.”

“Oh!”

He laughed. “It's really not that impressive. I just try to help people like you do. Then once a week or so I get up and make a speech.”

“You're being modest.”

“Am I?”

She nodded. “I've attended synagogue a couple of times, and I know there's a lot more to it than that.”

“Really? You better tell me so I can expand my job description.”

Cindy wished she had a witty response, but at the moment, she felt as if her brain were fogged like a windshield on a cold day. Instead, she just stared out the front window.

“It's left on this next street, second house on the right,” she said.

He pulled up outside her tiny yellow house with white trim. She stepped out of the car and felt a chill run up her spine. For a moment she had an image of walking into her home and tripping over another dead body.

Cindy jumped as Jeremiah's hand descended on her shoulder. She hadn't even realized that he had gotten out of the car.

“I'll walk you inside,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath and walked up to the front door, pulling her keys from her purse.

“Wait!” he whispered.

She stopped. Something in the tone of his voice commanded obedience. She turned and stared at him. His eyes were no longer deep and gentle but blazing, and his jaw was set.

“What is it?” Fear washed over her.

“The door.”

Slowly, she turned and looked. It stood ajar. Not much, just a crack, but it had been opened. Blood drained from her face. When she heard footsteps, she grabbed Jeremiah's arm. Someone was in her house!

W
HAT DO WE DO?” CINDY'S VOICE QUIVERED.

“You're not expecting anyone?” Jeremiah asked.

She shook her head no and fixed eyes dilated wide with fear on him.
I should call the police
, he thought. It was probably just a common burglar, but the timing was suspicious, and it could be the murderer.

He could hear one person moving around in the room just inside the door. If there was anyone else in the house he couldn't hear them. He crept closer to the door, squatting down slightly and presenting his right shoulder toward the house. Just as he reached the door he could hear the intruder start to whistle.

Staying well to the side, he motioned for Cindy to get behind him. Her breathing came fast and loud. He pushed open the door. A man stood in the hallway. He shouted as the door opened, and Cindy screamed.

Jeremiah could see both of the man's hands, and they were empty. He vaulted through the doorway and reached the stranger in two bounds. He shrank back from Jeremiah and raised his hands to ward him off. Jeremiah grabbed the
man by the shoulder and stopped short before slamming his head into the wall.

“Mr. Grey!” he heard Cindy cry. “What are you doing here?”

“You know him?” Jeremiah asked, without looking at her.

“Yes, he owns the house.”

Jeremiah released him and took a step back but kept his eyes trained on the other man's face.

“Cindy, what's going on here?” Mr. Grey demanded.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Grey. We saw the open door and thought you were a burglar.”

The older man's countenance relaxed. “I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm here to do the maintenance on the air conditioning.”

“What maintenance?” she asked.

“I'm checking it before summer gets here to make sure the ducts are clean. I left a message on your answering machine last week.”

“I didn't get it,” Cindy said. “I'm sorry. Harold Grey, this is Jeremiah, the rabbi at the synagogue next door to First Shepherd.”

“Rabbi,” Harold said, offering his hand.

Jeremiah shook it warily, still not liking the situation. He noticed that after the initial surprise Harold wasn't looking either him or Cindy in the eyes.

“Mr. Grey, sorry if we scared you,” Jeremiah said.

“That's all right. I figured I would just slip in and check out the system while Cindy was at work so I wouldn't have to bother her. Speaking of which, is everything okay, Cindy?”

“A man was killed at the church, and Cindy found his body this morning,” Jeremiah said.

Harold jumped slightly. “Killed! That's terrible! Was it a church member?”

“No,” Cindy said. “I'm sorry, the police sent me home after they took my statement. The rabbi was kind enough to drive me,” she said.

All the blood drained from her face, and she started to rock slightly. Jeremiah jumped forward just in time to catch her as she began to slump.

“She's fainted. Help me,” he told Harold.

Together they carried her to the couch. Harold headed for the kitchen and returned with a cold, wet cloth, which Jeremiah used to bathe her face before putting it around the back of her neck.

Cindy's eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”

“You fainted, but you're fine,” Jeremiah said.

“Is there anything I can do?” Harold asked.

“No, I've got it,” Jeremiah said.

“I should probably go then. I was just about to leave when you two arrived. Cindy, is there anything I can get you?”

“No, thank you. I'm sorry, Mr. Grey.”

He patted her hand. “Just try and get some rest. We'll talk later.”

Jeremiah saw the older man to the door and closed it behind him. Alone, he turned and looked at Cindy. “I'm just going to take a look around and make sure there are no other surprises.”

“Thank you,” she said with a voice full of relief.

From where he stood he could see all of the living room and the kitchen. He headed for the hallway and discovered two bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom looked like it was used as an office, with a filing cabinet, a desk, and chair.
He moved over to the computer. The computer was off. He opened the closet and spotted a couple of board games and a few boxes labeled “crafts.”

From there he entered Cindy's bedroom. A bed, chest of drawers, and a dresser filled the small space. On the night-stand lay a Bible and a couple of other books that looked like they were retold fairy tales. Everything in the room reflected a pale shade of green. Only shoes and clothes filled her closet. Satisfied that nothing seemed out of place he returned to the living room.

Cindy sat up straight on the couch and looked much better. “Thank you for being my hero again.”

He smiled. “You know us heroes—never satisfied with rescuing the damsel once. As long as she's in danger we have to keep rescuing her.”

“This damsel is extremely grateful. Thank you, Rabbi.”

“Jeremiah, please, Ms. Preston.”

“Call me Cindy.”

He smiled. “You have a nice place here.”

“Thanks. Mr. Grey rents it cheap to staff members. I could never afford it otherwise.”

“How are you doing?”

“Better,” she said. “I've never seen a murder victim before.”

“I know,” he answered.

“I'm sorry. First murder, first unknown person in my house, first time fainting. You've really caught me at my best today.” Cindy shook her head.

“I think you've handled it pretty well, considering,” he said. It was time for him to go, but he found himself delaying. He wasn't sure if it was out of concern for her or curiosity about the murder.

“I just keep going over it in my head, you know?” she said. “I mean, who would want to kill that guy and in the church? It makes no sense.”

“I'm sure it made perfect sense to the murderer.” He smiled warmly.

“Probably. It's just, I usually feel safe in the sanctuary and now I don't feel safe. Do you know what I mean?”

“I grew up in Israel. Sometimes safety seemed like a luxury,” he said.

“I had no idea. That must have been hard with all the violence.”

He shrugged. “When a place is home and it is all you know, you don't stop to think about how it could be different.”

“You must have left when you were young.”

“Why do you think so?” he asked, letting himself smile at her.

“You sound American. I would have thought you grew up around here.”

“Thank you. Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so. I just wish I knew why that guy was killed.”

“You would feel better if there was a real reason, and it wasn't just some random act?” he asked.

“Much. I know that probably sounds lame. I'm just not a big fan of randomness.”

“Well, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure the police will figure out who did this and why,” Jeremiah answered.

“The door was locked. I know it was. There aren't many people who have a key to the sanctuary. How did he get in there?”

“Maybe the killer let him in.”

He regretted saying it as she turned pale.

“There was a youth rally last night,” she muttered.

“Would the kids have been in the sanctuary?”

“No, it should have been locked before they got there last night.”

“Hopefully, by the time you get back to work they will have caught this killer.” He edged toward the door. “You should put some antiseptic and bandages on your knees.”

“Thanks. How long have you been a rabbi?” she asked.

He smiled. “Two years. Speaking of which, I should get back before my secretary decides I'm what all the commotion is about.”

Cindy smiled wanly. “We can't have that.”

“Yes, when she gets going—” He let an exaggerated eye roll say the rest for him.

“Thank you again. For everything.”

“Don't worry about it. Us religious types have to stick together.”

“Interesting way of looking at it.”

He shrugged, fished a card out of his pocket, and put it on the kitchen table. “Here's a card with my office and home phone numbers. Please, don't give it to any members of my congregation.”

“Trying to avoid three a.m. phone calls from neurotic parishioners?” she asked, standing.

He nodded. “A year ago I changed my home number and now I only give it out discreetly.”

“I'll guard your secret,” she said.

“Somehow I think you will. Remember, call if you need me.”

“I will,” she promised.

Two minutes after Jeremiah left Cindy regretted his absence. Her house was too quiet, yet every time a sound interrupted the silence, she jumped out of her skin. Her lunch bag sat on the kitchen table where she had forgotten it, next to the crossword puzzle she'd printed out from her online paper subscription. She'd ultimately skipped breakfast and the crossword so she could get to work early and deal with any messes.
I had no idea what kind of mess I would find.

She glanced at the clock on the microwave and realized with a start that it was still well before noon. Maybe a shower would rinse all the horror of the morning away. She briefly contemplated burning her clothes, but since the navy skirt and jacket were one of her few matched sets, she decided to wash them instead.

Once she made up her mind, Cindy changed quickly and pulled on her fluffiest bathrobe. As she loaded the washer, she automatically checked her jacket pockets. Her fingers brushed against cold metal, and she pulled out one of her cross necklaces. She had rushed out of the house that morning before putting it on.

She stared at it for a moment in surprise, having forgotten all about it. She thought about the cross that the detective had shown her. Why had there been a Shepherd's cross covered in blood? The answer seemed obvious, but she didn't want to come to terms with it. At least not yet. There could be an innocent explanation. There were only thirty Shepherds, and the police were probably well on their way to tracking down the owner. Best to leave it all to them. In
her other pocket she found the crumpled piece of paper she had picked up earlier.

The phone rang, and she jumped. She dropped the necklace and the paper on the shelf above the washer and rushed to her bedroom. She sat down on the bed before picking up the phone.