Restoreth My Soul (Psalm 23 Mysteries)

  One thing was clear. Regardless of who these people really were, she needed a chance to escape or at least reach a phone so she could tell Mark what was going on. She didn’t know how long she had been there, but if someone at the church had heard her shouting and actually called him, he should have already been talking to the F.B.I.. In fact, the fact that she was still here without having heard from him in some way, even having him be ushered into the room to tell her there was nothing he could do for her, felt like more proof that whoever these people were they weren’t government.

  At least, not her government. It was possible that they were attached to the German or Russian consulates or whoever else it was that was looking for the lost art treasures. For all she knew one of them was the one who had shot Jeremiah.

  She lowered her head onto the desk in a seeming act of defeat in case there was a camera in the room watching. They had used her father’s job and a supposed trip by her brother to try and bully her. She had no idea if either of them had even been in Germany. Two could play that game.

  A minute later she heard the door open and she felt a thrill of triumph. They were watching her and she was right that putting her head down would get their attention. She heard a chair move and someone sat down across from her.

  She counted to ten in her head before slowly looking up, making sure to move as though she was exhausted.

  The blonde woman was sitting across from her, staring at her like a vulture watching a dying animal.

  “I’ll tell you what you want to know about Great Uncle Heinrich,” Cindy said.

  The woman blinked rapidly and Cindy knew the response had caught her by surprise. “At least you’re finally acknowledging that he’s your uncle,” the woman said at last.

  Cindy nodded. “I didn’t know he’d involved my father and my brother. I thought I was the only one in the family he’d reached out to. But, I mean, why bother hiding it? You guys already know everything anyway.”

  “Yes, we do,” the woman said in very careful tones. She folded her hands on top of the table. “Except, of course, for the most important thing.”

  “Where he’s hidden the art?” Cindy asked.

  The woman nodded and there was an intense gleam in her eye. She looked like she was practically going to start salivating.

  “I’ll take you to them, but only if I can get some kind of deal, you know, for cooperating.”

  “Tell us where to find them and I’m sure we could work something out.”

  “I can’t tell you where they are. He only took me once, but I can retrace the route. So, I’ll take you there, but first you have to agree to give me immunity.”

  The woman looked like she was on the verge of just saying yes, but she forced herself under control and stood. “Give me a minute to see what I can do.”

  “Okay,” Cindy said, before letting her head sink slowly back down on the table.

  She had already decided where she was going to lead them. Now she needed to figure out a way to leave a sign in case Mark found this place by some miracle. She would have given anything for a pen or pencil.

  Then she thought about the walls Heinrich had covered in writing, including the last thing he had ever written.

  She took her index finger on her left hand and dug it into the index finger of her right hand as hard as she could, scratching through the skin until blood bubbled to the surface. Then, squeezing the finger to keep the blood flowing, she began to write on the edge of the table in very tiny letters, keeping her head down to hide exactly what it was she was doing.

  Five minutes passed. Cindy had finished writing her word on the table and was waiting, tense, ready for one of her captors to return. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths. She had to remain calm, focused, or everything would be lost.

  Suddenly she heard raised voices just outside. She lifted her head just as the door flew open with a crash.

  17

  Cindy stared at the blonde woman standing there. Something had changed. She was much more tense. “We have to go now,” the woman said.

  The fact that they were moving her was good. There would be a greater opportunity to try and escape. She couldn’t seem too eager, though, or it might be suspicious.

  “What about my immunity?” Cindy asked, remembering to stay in character.

  The woman rushed forward and grabbed Cindy by the arm, hauling her to her feet. “You can have it if you can take us there right now.”

  “Okay, why the rush?” She stopped short of asking if she could have the deal in writing. She wanted to be believable, not throw up obstacles to getting out of there.

  The woman blinked at her, clearly struggling for a believable lie. “We’ve just had a source inform us that the Germans are closing in on the location of your uncle’s stash. We mustn’t let them reach it and steal the artwork.”

  Cindy nodded, and let the woman drag her out the door. All she saw was a dim hallway before the woman shoved her out another door into a dark alleyway where a car was waiting. She was pushed into the backseat and the door was slammed behind her.

  Davies was behind the wheel and the woman jumped in the passenger seat. A moment later they were speeding away from wherever they had been. It looked like an alley of some sort, but Cindy had no idea where in the city they might be, or even if they still were in the city since she didn’t know how long they’d driven to get here.

  She smelled burning rubber as Davies took a hard turn and shot out onto a road. Her hands were still cuffed in front of her, but she was alone in the backseat.

  She wondered if she could open the door, jump, and escape that way.

  She looked out at the ground speeding past outside. Even if she managed to not kill herself on landing, she would most certainly be stunned or injured. There was no one around, just a few dark buildings. It would be a simple matter for Davies to turn the car around. The only hard part about it for them would be deciding whether to recapture her or just run her over.

  No, if she was going to try jumping she should wait until they were on a street with other traffic at least where someone would see what was happening and be able to help, or, at the bare minimum, call the police.

  They drove for another minute before Davies slowed down slightly. “Where do we go?” he asked at last.

  “I don’t even know where I am,” she said, fishing for information.

  “You said you could drive to this place,” the woman said, turning to glare at her.

  “Yes, but not when I don’t know my starting point. In fact, I have to retrace the path we took exactly which means we need to start at my Uncle’s place for me to be able to take you to where he hid everything.”

  She held her breath, hoping that they’d buy it.

  Davies and the woman exchanged a quick look and then he turned left. “Fine, we will take you to your uncle’s house,” he said.

  Cindy leaned back in her seat, relieved that at least one thing was going her way. There was a good chance there were police officers there who would notice a strange car driving past. While she waited for them to reach a main road she turned and glanced at the door. She still thought jumping might be a good idea. That was when she realized that there were no interior door handles in the backseat.

  She scowled. They might be fake law enforcement officers but it seemed like their car was real, or at least a reasonable facsimile. So much for her plan to jump.

  She began praying that the streets outside of Heinrich’s house were crawling with police.

  Daniels picked the lock on a side door and the three officers were inside the building in seconds. Mark’s eyes were instantly drawn to a couple of dim lights that seemed to be on at the back of the building.

  He motioned to the others and the three fanned out but covered the ground swiftly. Mark kept sweeping his eyes right and left looking for any signs of movement. There was nothing. They finally reached the back of the building. There was a corridor with dim lights burning and a room opening off
of it. There was another door as well which was closed.

  The room was empty. Liam and Daniels went through the closed door and Mark looked through to see a narrow alley that ran behind the warehouse.

  “Tire tracks, someone left in a hurry,” Liam noted.

  “You can still smell the rubber,” Daniels said.

  Mark slammed his fist into the wall. They had just missed her, but how?

  “Can you track them?” he asked, turning to Daniels.

  “Not without my computer. I’d have to get back to the precinct, but even then I’m not sure. There’s no guarantee they were driving the van. If it was an entirely different vehicle this could get tricky to say the least.

  “How did they know we were coming?” he demanded. “We didn’t hear them driving off while we were outside, so they must have left just before we got here.”

  The other two officers stared at him blankly. Finally Liam cleared his throat. “They could have had surveillance, a silent alarm, something.”

  “They’ve been a step ahead of us at every turn. It’s like they knew we were coming. It’s just like it was when we went to see the art restorer. But this? How did they know? No one knew we were coming here except the three of us and Jeremiah. I swear, I feel like I’m being watched.”

  Mark yanked his phone out of his pocket. Daniels was staring at him eyes narrowed, when suddenly he reached out and snatched the phone away from him.

  “What are you-”

  Daniels put a finger up to his lips, indicating the need for silence.

  Mark stared at him, wondering what was going on. He watched while Daniels turned the phone off and then handed it back to him.

  “What did you do that for?” Mark asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but if they’re seeming to know things that they shouldn’t, it’s possible they’re spying on us. And if agents of foreign governments really are involved in all of this then it’s possible that they force paired your phone so they can eavesdrop on your calls.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Mark asked.

  Daniels shook his head.

  “They do it all the time on that Person of Interest TV show,” Liam pointed out.

  “Alright, fine. One of you give me your phone so I can call the rabbi and tell him what’s happened and get that description of the kidnappers from him,” Mark growled.

  It spooked him to think someone might have been listening in on his calls that way. It seemed ridiculous, far-fetched. Then again he had used his phone to call his friend at the F.B.I. the first time and when the kidnappers snatched Cindy they posed as feds. Was that a coincidence or had they heard him make the call and mention that Cindy and Jeremiah knew he was calling them in?

  If that were somehow true, though, then he was pretty sure someone other than the Germans had taken Cindy. If they had the ability to listen to his calls they wouldn’t have just shown up at the synagogue and left without being a lot more aggressive and knowing who he and Cindy were. After all, Jeremiah had specifically called saying he’d found something.

  No, it wasn’t possible. But at this stage of the game a little paranoia wouldn’t hurt. After all, he’d had his own hacker help in getting them this far in tracking the kidnappers. It was easy to believe the bad guys would be willing to take things a lot farther in order to stay one step ahead and in the loop about what the police knew.

  “I hate this case,” he muttered.

  “What do you think is going on, Detective?” Liam asked, as he handed him his phone. “Who do you think has her?”

  “Honestly, I think there are far more pieces on this board than we’ve seen yet,” Mark said. “And that scares the crap out of me.”

  He took a deep breath, dreading the next thing he had to do, even though he knew it was necessary. He finally forced himself to call Jeremiah and the rabbi picked up on the first ring.

  “She’s gone. We think she was here, but they moved her right as we got here. I don’t know how they knew, but somehow they did.”

  There was a pause. “Someone eavesdropping on you?”

  “Don’t say that! Daniels already made that suggestion and frankly it’s far too outrageous and too creepy to be true. But, just in case, that’s why I’m using Liam’s phone. If you need to call me for any reason this will be the phone to reach me on until further notice.”

  “How do you know she was actually there?”

  “Circumstantial evidence at the moment. I’ll get some forensic guys down here to see what they can find. Hopefully we can prove she was here and find some DNA giving us identities for her attackers. Now, give me the description of the two goons.”

  “Male, thirties, tall, dark hair, a scar just above his lip on the right side.”

  “Doesn’t sound like anyone I know,” Mark grunted. “And the other?”

  “Female, early thirties, long neck, attractive, about 5 foot eight, light blonde hair worn in a severe bun.”

  In his mind’s eye Mark saw the lady from the auction house that Trevor had been talking to when he went to question him more about his father’s murder. He shook his head. That was ridiculous. There were dozens of women who could fit that description.

  “You know her?” Jeremiah asked sharply.

  “Probably not. I saw a blonde that fits that general description the other day, but then, you just described probably a quarter of the aspiring actresses in L.A.”

  “But this isn’t L.A. and if your mind went to her, that’s probably significant,” Jeremiah said. “Was there something off about her?”

  “No, she was just doing her job, worked for an art auction company. She was talking to the son of the dead art dealer from a year ago when I went over to the shop. She didn’t say anything to me. When I left she was fiddling with her phone.”

  “Making a call?” Daniels interjected.

  “No, just sort of had it out and was staring at it, like maybe she had a message or something.”

  “Or maybe she was pairing your phone right in front of you,” Daniels said.

  That was the last thing Mark wanted to hear.

  “It was after that you talked to the art restorer, wasn’t it?” Liam asked.

  “Yeah. Trevor was the only one who knew I was going to talk to her and I figured he couldn’t be stupid enough to voluntarily give me contact information for her and then run over and kill her.”

  “So, either it was a complete coincidence, or someone else knew you were headed there,” Liam said. “Which leaves having your phone conversation with her listened to or having the woman in the store overhear what was going on. Or possibly both.

  “The auction lady sounds like a good place to start,” Jeremiah growled.

  “Alright. I’ll call Trevor, see if he’s got a number for her,” Mark said. “And if she’s clean, maybe I can still get her help running down another art expert.”

  “Good. Now, are you sure there’s nothing you can see there where you’re at that will help you find Cindy?” Jeremiah pressed.

  Mark walked into the one room. It looked like someone had set it up to look like a very crude interrogation room. There were three chairs and a table. “Nothing really here,” Mark said and then stopped as his eyes fell on something dark on the far side of the table. “Hold on a second.”

  He walked around the table and looked down. There, someone had written a word in very small letters in a dark reddish substance that he was guessing was blood. He bent down and sniffed it. It certainly smelled like blood.

  “What is it?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Someone set up this room to look like an interrogation room. And I found something. If Cindy was here, it looks like she left a message, wrote it in blood,” Mark said.

  “Blood?” Jeremiah hissed.

  “Yeah, don’t worry, there’s not too much of it.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Captain. Capital C. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “You know whe
re they’re heading?” Mark asked.

  “She’s leading them to my house.”

  Mark swore. “We can’t beat them there.”

  “That’s okay,” Jeremiah said. “I can.”

  He hung up and Mark swore again and tossed the phone to Liam. He turned and sprinted for the front of the building, the other two close on his heels.

  Cindy had forced her kidnappers to drive to Heinrich’s street first, claiming she only knew how to get where they were going by following the route he had driven her on. She was hoping beyond hope that there would be officers present outside the house.

  Davies drove to the street, but refused to drive past the house. When she insisted that that was the direction they had gone he backtracked and made a series of sharp turns until they came out on the same road half a block down. He had successfully bypassed the house.

  She had wanted to scream in frustration, but had to deal with it. The next decision facing her was just how circuitous a route to take. The faster they made it to Jeremiah’s house the faster she could try to escape or call for help. On the other hand, if by some miracle her message was discovered, the longer she could delay the better the chances that officers would be waiting for them at the house when they arrived.

  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.