Restoreth My Soul (Psalm 23 Mysteries)

  As soon as they got in the door Captain walked up whining. He was clearly tempering his usual boisterous greeting because he could tell something was wrong. The dog was incredibly smart and Jeremiah was deeply grateful for that at the moment.

  “I think it’s straight to bed for you,” Cindy said, as she eased him toward the bedroom.

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  He was wearing his slacks and the hospital gown since his cut up shirt had needed to be thrown out. Cindy helped him sit down on the side of the bed and then she reached down and started taking off his shoes.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

  “You really want to jostle that arm around any more tonight?” she asked.

  “No,” he admitted.

  “Then let me do what I can to help.”

  He decided not to argue. The medication was making him more and more drowsy and he was struggling not to fall asleep where he was sitting. In the car it had been easier because he’d been able to focus on explaining the holidays to her.

  As soon as his shoes were off she moved to his sling which she removed. Then she looked at him with an odd expression.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Where are your pajamas?”

  “I’m too tired to get in them, I’ll just sleep like this,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay. What can I get you to eat or drink?”

  He shook his head. “There’s some crackers in the cupboard. If you could just put some of those, a glass of water, and my pills on the nightstand I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Why not?” he asked, realizing he was slurring his words.

  “Because you’re going to need medication in the middle of the night and from the looks of you I’m not sure you can handle it on your own.”

  “I don’t need the painkillers if I’m sleeping,” he protested.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll sleep on the couch and that way I can come in and check on you.”

  “Really, I’m okay,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Just a little too warm in here.” He used his good hand to pull off the hospital gown.

  “Do you want a T-shirt?” she asked.

  “No, I’ll sleep like this.” It would help keep him from bunching the gown too much around the dressing on his arm as well.

  Cindy averted her eyes. “Go to sleep and for once, don’t worry about me,” she said.

  He wanted to protest that he always worried about her, but he felt himself falling backward. His head hit his pillow and he sank into sleep.

  Jeremiah looked so peaceful Cindy lingered in the room a minute just watching him sleep. She had known he was more out of it than he was letting on. She found an extra blanket and pillow in the linen closet near the bathroom and dropped them on the couch in the living room.

  Next she headed into the kitchen and checked out the refrigerator. Jeremiah might not need anything to eat, but she did. From the way Captain eagerly followed her she was guessing he did, too.

  She scratched the dog behind the ears and he wagged his tail. She changed the water in his bowl and then gave him fresh dog food.

  “I’ll take you out after we eat,” she said, yawning.

  She found some cheese and roast beef in the refrigerator. She didn’t see any bread, so she just wrapped the cheese in the roast beef and ate it that way. She downed it with a glass of water.

  She took Captain for a quick walk and then went and sat down on the couch. She heaved a sigh and felt exhaustion really take hold of her. Her body felt so heavy and she wondered briefly if she’d be able to even get up off the couch when it was time to give Jeremiah medication.

  She pulled out her phone, preparing to set the alarm to wake herself. She had missed calls from both Geanie and Mark.

  She called her roommate first and filled her in on what was going on. Thankfully Geanie didn’t make any even remotely romantic suggestions. She did, however, offer to bring a change of clothes by.

  “Can you do it in the morning? I’m going to crash soon.”

  “Are you actually thinking of going into work tomorrow?” Geanie asked skeptically.

  “Yeah,” Cindy said. “Personally, I’d like to stay home, but I have a feeling I’m going to be driving Jeremiah to the synagogue.”

  “And at that point you might as well save a sick day and go in?”

  “That’s kind of what I was thinking.”

  She was also thinking that she’d at least be nearby if he needed her.

  After she hung up with Geanie she called Mark.

  “Hello?” he answered, voice tense.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Not really. Got another body. An art restorer. And the dog painting was just stolen.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Cindy said, at a loss as to how else to respond.

  “Not your fault,” he muttered. “What’s happening there?”

  “We’re at Jeremiah’s. He talked his way out of the hospital because tomorrow evening Rosh Hashanah starts and he has to-”

  “Get ready. Yeah, he’s been warning me about that for days. You’re going to stay there with him, right?”

  “I’ve already made up the couch.”

  “Good. Call if something goes wrong. Well, more wrong.”

  “You, too.”

  “Not likely,” he said. “The two of you need rest more than anything. Whatever else happens at this point it can wait until the morning.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  He paused as if really hearing what she had said. “I will,” he said in a different tone.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll call tomorrow when I can.”

  “Alright. Good night.”

  He grunted and hung up.

  Cindy set her phone down on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch. Her muscles began to twitch and vibrate as they slowly relaxed. It was a disturbing feeling, but at least they were capable of relaxing somewhat.

  Captain walked over and regarded her with big, concerned eyes.

  “I’m fine. Go see your dad,” Cindy said.

  The dog turned and padded off toward the bedroom.

  Mark was just about done. Even the other officers were starting to actually look at him. Finally one of them came up to him. “How long since you got some sleep, Detective?”

  He grunted an unintelligible reply and the man backed off. They were probably all worried he was getting ready to go off the deep end again.

  There was no sign of forced entry so the lady must have let her killer in. Officers were dusting for prints, but he wasn’t optimistic that they were going to find any. She had been stabbed in the throat with a ballpoint pen that had her company information on it. The irony was sad really, but he was beyond feeling at that point.

  He was trying to make sense of the destruction in her lab. Had the killer actually been looking for something specific or was this done to make it look like a burglary gone bad?

  Liam walked up to him.

  “How are you holding up?” Mark asked.

  “Good. Is there anything you want me to do?” he asked. “I’m still technically off duty and these guys have got things handled.”

  “No, you can...wait,” Mark said. “Was there still a video camera in my trunk when you checked?”

  “Yeah, whoever it was took the painting but left that.”

  “Makes me think that painting, or something like it, was what the killer was after,” Mark said.

  “It stands to reason.”

  “Can you take that camera and go over and slowly videotape the writing on the last two walls in Heinrich’s house? It’s going to take forever, but the rabbi can’t go to the site so we have to bring the site to him.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Great. And stop by your house and pick up your gun fir
st. Keep your eyes peeled. I don’t want you getting shot, too. In fact, keep the gun on you until this case is resolved, even when you’re off duty. Got it?”

  “I got it,” Liam said.

  “Great. Take my car. I’ll get one of the other officers to drop me over there to get it back from you later.”

  Liam nodded and headed out after Mark handed him the keys. Mark was glad he’d remembered about the camera. Hopefully he could cajole Jeremiah into finding time to finish the job.

  This whole thing was getting more complicated. He just hoped there was something in the old man’s writings that would help him figure this all out. What he wouldn’t give for a name, but he doubted he’d be that lucky.

  When was he ever?

  Persistent, throbbing pain woke Jeremiah up in the middle of the night. He came to wake slowly, groggy and struggling to remember what had happened. He heard a whisper of sound in the room and he tried to sit up.

  Intense, stabbing pain knifed through his arm and he hissed sharply.

  “Ssh, it’s alright,” a female voice said.

  He recognized it and he struggled for a moment to place it before coming more fully awake and realizing it was Cindy. She was standing above him, bathed in silvery moonlight from the curtains that were partially open across the room. She had a look of concern in her eyes and yet she was smiling at him reassuringly. The moonlight was making her hair shine. She had never looked more beautiful and it took his breath away.

  She sat down next to him on the bed, so close her leg was brushing his. His heart began to race and the pain was forgotten in a moment.

  “It’s time to take your medication,” she whispered softly.

  That was the farthest thing from his mind.

  She reached for the water glass on his nightstand and he grabbed her hand instead. The feel of her skin against his was electric.

  She needed to know, though, what she was getting herself into. Without that, there could be nothing else.

  He pulled her hand down and placed it on his chest. He moved her fingers around, guiding her to different bullet wounds, knife scars.

  “What is it?” she asked him, her voice still a whisper.

  “You have to know who I was, who I am. I have to tell you.”

  It was important and he let her hear the urgency in his voice.

  “I know who you are,” she said, her smile growing even more radiant.

  “No, you don’t, not really. I have wronged you by not telling you and I’m sorry. I just never expected...you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was not a nice person before I came here. I did things, things you can never forgive me for.”

  “You were in the army.”

  “No, I did not do these things in the army.”

  He had to tell her even as the nearness of her was filling his senses, making him crazy. He had been so afraid to tell her for so long, but if he did not tell her and he took her in his arms he would be sinning against her and G-d. If she came to him it had to be willingly, of her own choice, with all the knowledge he could give her so that she knew what she was doing.

  He moved her hand around to more of the scars, her touch making his skin tingle. “This is from the army,” he said, moving her fingers over a jagged knife wound over his ribs, “from hand-to-hand combat training. My training partner was faster than I, more aggressive. He gave this to me. The rest I did not earn in the army.”

  “I do not understand.”

  He let go of her hand and slid his hand up to cup her cheek and then moved it behind her head, pulling her down closer so that he could look her in the eyes.

  “I was someone you would not want to know. I was the nightmare you tell children about.”

  “I know who you are Jeremiah Silverman, and you are none of those things.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand, but you will. That’s not even my name.”

  He tried to lift his other hand to touch her face and pain roared through him.

  She pulled away. “You’re in pain, you’re hallucinating. Here, take this.”

  She handed him a couple of pills.

  He didn’t want to take them, but the pain was starting to make him dizzy. He popped them in his mouth and then took the water glass she handed him.

  He downed the pills, and handed her the glass. She put it back on the nightstand and then stood. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

  He stared at her, his vision growing fuzzy. She didn’t want to know. It was his burden to carry, not hers. And so it would remain.

  He watched her walk out of the room and then he fell asleep again.

  Cindy lay back down on the couch, her heart pounding so hard she thought it was going to burst. Jeremiah had been incoherent. He was clearly trying to talk to her, but she’d made out very little of it. It had been hard to concentrate with her hand on his chest. She had felt all the scar tissue there and she had felt so much pain and grief for what he must have been through. The only thing that had been really clear was that he seemed to have gotten one of the knife wounds while training in hand-to-hand combat.

  He had been struggling so hard to tell her something, but whether it was about his time in the army or not she didn’t know. She would have listened all night, but he was in pain and he needed rest more than anything.

  And when he was ready to tell her whatever he had felt so burdened to tell her he would. Until then she’d just have to be patient and not push too much. It was clear that his life had been painful and that was something she could understand. She had never even told him the full story about what happened to her sister.

  She took a ragged breath. All she knew was that she cared for him deeply. Maybe too deeply. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to go to sleep.

  Jeremiah woke in the morning to the smell of something cooking. He sat up slowly, feeling a little woozy still, but on the whole much better than he had been. He stood and made his way to the bathroom then a minute later walked into the kitchen.

  Cindy was standing over the oven, making what looked like omelets. Captain was laying at her feet, clearly hoping for a handout. The overhead lights were reflecting off Cindy’s hair and he froze as the events of the middle of the night came back to him.

  Fear flooded through him. The things he had said. And now he’d have to face the consequences of it. He wasn’t ready for this. She had rejected him last night, rejected what he had to say. Hadn’t she? That’s the way it had seemed.

  Yet here she was, making breakfast in his kitchen. Everything was such a blur, he couldn’t know for sure what he had actually said.

  “It smells good,” he forced himself to say.

  She looked up with a smile. “Thanks. You look better.”

  “I feel better,” he admitted, moving to lean against one of the counters.

  “Different clothes,” he noticed suddenly. She wasn’t wearing what she had been the night before.

  “Geanie dropped these off for me a while ago along with the food,” she said.

  “Remind me to thank her.”

  “This is just about ready if you want to sit,” she said.

  He nodded and headed to his dining table. He had been sitting less than a minute when she brought in two plates. She set them down and returned a moment later with utensils and two glasses of orange juice.

  “Wow, what a feast,” he said, suddenly very aware that he was only half-dressed.

  “Breakfast of champions,” she said brightly.

  He started to eat. He was pretty sure it tasted good, but his mind was preoccupied with other things.

  “Thanks for staying last night,” he said. “I know that had to be a...burden.”

  “No, it was fine,” she said, smiling again.

  She was doing a lot of that. Was it genuine or was it for his benefit?

  They finished their breakfast in silence and then he went to get changed while she cleaned up. He glanced at his clock an
d moved as quickly as he could. He needed to get to the synagogue and get the day started.

  He managed to take care of everything except the buttons on his shirt. He finally gave up in frustration and walked back into the kitchen where Cindy was just finishing up.

  She turned. “You managed pretty well for a guy who was shot last night.”

  “You know us rabbis, take a licking, keep on ticking,” he said. “I figure I’ve seen worse.”

  She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t giving him any indication of exactly what had happened last night from her perspective. He didn’t want to come right out and ask her, though, in case his memories were accurate and she had rejected wanting to know more about his past.

  “Here, do you need some help?” she asked after drying her hands on a dish towel.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  She walked over and grabbed the edges of his shirt. He could feel her fingers brush his chest and the sensory input reminded him so strongly of the night before that it was all he could do to stand still and say nothing.

  “This is harder to do for someone else than you’d think,” she laughed after fumbling with the first button and finally getting it through the hole.

  “I can imagine,” he said.

  Her touch was like torture. He found himself wanting to burst out his confession then and there. But not for nothing had he gone so long undetected.

  Finally he had to say something. It was becoming unnatural. “I’m sorry you had to see my scars,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry you have them. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through in the army. It must have hurt so much when your training partner stabbed you.”

  He caught her hands in his and she looked up and met his eyes.

  His heart was pounding. “I said that last night?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You said a lot of things.”

  “Like what?” he whispered.

  Her brow furrowed. “I honestly don’t know. You were raving quite a lot. I think you might have been hallucinating. It was clear you had something important you wanted to tell me, but of everything you said, most of it was babble. That was the only thing I could actually make out. The scar over your ribs was from when you were learning hand-to-hand combat.”