Ra’ah set his knife on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment. His report to the Urim was late. The success of his mission was paramount to their plans, being the litmus test for the greater work that would soon begin. Once he proved that they could accomplish their goals, their ranks would swell, and the real battle would begin. He was a servant of a greater power, a cause beyond human understanding. Their order, hidden long in the shadows, could soon step into the light of day and lead the world to paradise.
Ra’ah began to write, detailing all his work, the good and the bad. He lamented his weakness in the yard of the first sacrifice, where his body betrayed him and he vomited after removing the child’s intestines from his body. He thanked God for forgiving him and allowing him to complete his second sacrifice in a much stronger fashion. He chronicled his brilliance that allowed him to sit and wait for the sinners to come to him, rather than having to hunt them down. He advised on how to effectively evade detection by the federal agents.
And of course, he warned them of the meddling detective and his companion—the bewitched whore who called herself Maureen.
THIRTY-THREE
Manny opened his eyes to the sunlight glaring in through the window. As he yawned, the dull ache in the back of his head and the cotton in his mouth reminded him of how much he had drunk the night before. The light stung his eyes. His stomach bubbled. He was lying naked in bed and felt amazing.
The memories of the night before played out like a movie in his mind. The moment his lips met Maureen’s was a revelation. He’d never been with a woman who did the things that she did. She’d finished him so quickly on the couch that he almost felt ashamed. But she’d taken him by the hand back to his bedroom, brought him back to life, and proceeded to continue blowing his mind with how she made love. The way she took his bottom lip between her teeth and used her hand on the small of his back to guide him into her. The way her breasts heaved as she rode him furiously just to the point of a second completion and then backed off to tease him some more. To his mind, it was the best he’d ever had, and by the time he and Maureen had finally curled up in each other’s arms, he had begun to think he might actually be falling in love with her.
Manny rolled over to throw his arm around Maureen and found her side of the bed empty. The shock of sitting up as quickly as he did sent a jolt of pain through his head. He steadied himself for a moment before he could focus his vision on any one thing. Around his room were the signs of their night together. His jeans and shirt were crumpled on the floor by the door. His boxers were at the foot of his bed. He found Maureen’s satin thong lying next to them. He picked them up and twirled them around his finger like some kind of immature college student before he carefully laid them on top of his comforter on the bed. Her jeans were still on the floor where she had stepped out of them after pushing him onto the bed. He knew that her tank top and bra were likely still in the living room where she had taken them off. What he didn’t know was where she was.
Manny pulled on a pair of shorts and tiptoed out of his room and into the hallway. He moved slowly, trying to keep the dizziness at bay. The first place he looked was the bathroom across the hall. The door was closed so Manny tapped on it softly and whispered her name. There was no answer, and he could not hear any water running in the shower so he tried the knob. It was unlocked, and the door swung open with a push. The bathroom was dark and empty. Manny flipped on the light and the florescent glow of the fixture in the ceiling hit his eyes like an ice pick. The stab in his brain brought to him an awareness of his own body that reminded him that hangovers weren’t the only aftermath of a night of drinking. He stepped over to the toilet to relieve the pressure in his bladder and was almost amused to notice two condoms sitting atop the refuse in the wastebasket. He didn’t remember going through two—or going into the bathroom to throw them away afterward—but then, he wouldn’t have been surprised if there were gaps in his memory. He hadn’t drunk the way they had in years.
Manny flushed the toilet, washed his hands quickly, and went back out to continue his search for Maureen. He poked his head into the two other bedrooms on the way down the hall toward the living area. They were empty as well. He came to the end of the hall where he had partial views of both the living room and the kitchen. He went to his right when he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye. Manny moved toward it, rubbing his eyes to clear them a bit more and was met with a startling sight.
Maureen was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, her back against the cabinets below the sink, rocking slowly back and forth. Her eyes stared through the wall opposite her. She was naked, and her lips were parted, moving ever so slightly as if a silent dialogue were being carried out. In her right hand was a kitchen knife that she was lightly gliding across the floor.
Manny carefully stepped around her and sat down on her left, away from the blade. He slowly put his arm around her and gently reached for the knife. To his surprise, she handed it to him with no objection and turned her head to him. Despite the desperation deep in her eyes, her face was even.
“He took another one,” she said softly. “It just happened. Maybe less than half an hour ago.”
Her eyes moved back to the floor where she had been dragging the knife. He followed them with his own and saw that she had carved the now familiar Aramaic characters. םירִוא Urim. Light.
Manny couldn’t be totally sure whether the churning in his stomach was due to Maureen’s chilling revelation, or the remnants of the previous night, but he forced himself to his feet, sticking the knife back in the block. Maureen continued to sit, seemingly lost in thought. Her breathing returned to normal and, aside from having her legs drawn up to her chest, she made little effort to conceal her nudity. Manny cast an eye around her. Something was missing beside clothes.
“You didn’t vomit,” he said.
“I didn’t feel nauseous,” she said, looking up and shrugging. “Maybe I’m getting more desensitized to this. I don’t often have this many dreams looking through the same person’s eyes. I haven’t thrown up since that night in the jail. I don’t know. I feel like I’m getting deeper into his mind.”
“You said he took someone. You mean he killed again?” Manny asked.
“No. I mean took, as in abducted.”
“Okay, tell me exactly what you saw.”
“I’ll try.” Maureen got to her feet and began to pace around the kitchen, running her hands through her hair, as if trying to massage the memories out of her scalp.
In spite of the gravity of the situation, Manny couldn’t help himself from being distracted by her body. He did his best to focus.
“It was another boy,” she began slowly. “I’m sure about that. He was younger than the other two, and he was taken right out of a car. A black car, four doors. I don’t remember much more about the surroundings than that; there’s always a blur on the edge of my vision when I’m in the dream. Maybe there were some trees, but I can’t be sure. I remember more about how I felt—he felt. It was the first time I could discern which emotions were mine and which were his. He felt a rush of . . . justification is the only way I can really describe it. But it was like the feelings weren’t directed at the kid. They were directed somewhere else. And he said something, too. What was it . . . ? It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“What?” Manny asked eagerly. “What did he say?”
“Give me a second!” she shot back. Maureen closed her eyes and turned her head side to side.
Manny looked on, hoping whatever she could come up with would break the case for them.
“‘Rebirth first,’” she said. “That’s all I can remember. Rebirth first.”
“Well that certainly doesn’t help,” said Manny, crestfallen at the meaninglessness of it. The frustration didn’t help his hangover, either. “What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know, it’s not like they were my words!�
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“I didn’t mean to snap at you, I apologize.” Manny moved over to Maureen, put his arms around her, and held her tight.
She returned the hug, though it seemed that she pushed away awfully quickly. “I should throw some clothes on, and we should hit the road and try and figure out what this is all about.” She turned and headed toward his bedroom.
“I can barely move after all that drinking,” Manny said, taken aback by the fact that the previous night had seemed to leave no ill effect on her. “Maybe I should make us something to eat first.”
“You call that drinking?” she said mockingly over her shoulder. “I’m gonna jump in the shower, so get something to eat and pull yourself together. I’ll drive. Ten minutes.”
With that, Maureen disappeared around the corner. Manny stood still in the kitchen, dumbfounded for a moment. From the moment he had grabbed her from the bar, she had acted as though the investigation was an imposition on her life. Now she was taking the lead. What had changed?
Manny moved over to the refrigerator. Three pieces of pizza from the previous night were left. He grabbed the box, tossed the cold slices onto a plate, and put them in the microwave. He punched in forty-five seconds and flipped on the sink faucet to pour himself some water while he waited. Mindlessly, he drank down half a glass and filled it up again. He sipped his water slowly while staring out the window into the yard, continuing to ponder the enigma that was Maureen.
The beep of the timer snapped him back, and he headed over to the microwave. The pizza’s cheese was still cold, but Manny didn’t care. The crust was warmed up enough, and the sensation of food in his mouth and stomach was easing his nausea. His headache, however, was getting worse, and he couldn’t believe that Maureen wasn’t hungover. Moreover, she hadn’t complained of any pain following her dream. Perhaps she was right and something was changing the more she saw through this psychopath’s eyes. Anything was possible.
Manny was chewing on the crust of the final piece when Maureen came back in, wearing her jeans from the night before, a clean T-shirt she had stolen out of his dresser, and her flannel shirt tied around her waist as usual. She let her hair hang wet, but he knew that eventually, it would be put up in a ponytail. She walked over to him, grabbed the half-full glass of water out of his hand, and drank it down.
“You need a good roll of deodorant and some mouthwash,” she said, as if he were a child. And yet, there was something off about her tone. It was too somber for her to be playfully chiding him. “And you should try to wear something professional. Maybe even a tie.”
“Why?” he asked, puzzled by her words. “Where are we going?”
Maureen didn’t say anything. Instead, she slowly made her way into the living room, leaned over the couch, and picked up her bra. She turned her back to him, hoisted up the T-shirt she was wearing, and quickly clasped it on. She smoothed the shirt back down over her torso and walked to the window, pulling a curtain aside to stare out.
“Maureen,” Manny said, taking a few steps toward her, “you’re acting odd. What’s going on?”
“I didn’t want to tell you until we were on the road,” she said, shaking her head before turning back toward him. “I was thinking about my dream in the shower, and I realized that I recognized the kid.”
Manny felt a shiver go down his spine and felt all of his joints lock in unison.
Maureen took a deep breath. “You know your friend? The one that brought her boy to the crime scene last week?”
“Tasha?”
Maureen nodded her head, walked over to him and laid both of her hands on his chest while looking steadily into his eyes. “Do you know where she lives?”
There was pity in her eyes. Manny felt himself involuntarily swallow. The sour taste of vomit filled the back of his throat.
THIRTY-FOUR
“How can you not have her number?” Maureen shouted as Manny pulled on his sport coat, stuffed his cell phone into the pocket, and searched for his keys. He’d obviously forgotten that she had picked them up just a moment before and was holding them in plain sight. Some people just couldn’t handle their liquor. Her own head was pounding, but she had swallowed down half a pill, so she was confident she’d be fine in short order.
“I thought you were supposed to be friends,” she said.
“We knew each other in high school,” he said defensively, wincing with the effort of talking. “I don’t know. I got back in touch when I moved back to town, but we never exchanged phone numbers.”
“Do you have her husband’s number?”
“Ben? No, I don’t have his either.”
“Then what good are you?” Her frustration with him made her want to hit him in his stupid face.
“What do you want from me? Like I said, we aren’t close. I’ve only ever had dinner at their house once,” he said.
“Jesus, why didn’t you say so?” she replied. “Let’s go.”
Maureen looked over at Manny as they made their way to his truck. His face wore a frown. He was obviously hurt by her henpecking. She reached into her pocket and grabbed the other half of the pill that she had taken earlier, which she was saving for after they had spoken to the kid’s parents.
“Here, take this,” she said, offering it to him with an open hand.
“What is it?”
“Just a pain killer. It helps.”
He took the pill and swallowed it down. “I don’t suppose that was aspirin,” he said with a weak smile.
“It’s a prescription.”
“Yours?”
“More or less,” she replied, looking over again only to be met with his side-eyed, disapproving stare. She rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, so the prescription is forged. But I only get enough for myself. I don’t sell them or anything. It’s the only thing that helps the migraines. A half a pill, though? It’ll knock out any pain in less than half an hour and it won’t make you too drowsy, unless you drink with it. Get a cup of coffee in you, and you should be good for hours.”
“Well, in that case,” he said, allowing his amused smirk to break out on his face, “thank you very much.”
Whether it was the effects of the pill, or a psychosomatic reaction to her suggestions, Manny perked up ever so slightly as they took off down the road. He directed her south along the county highway then back east. Maureen soon found herself on a tree-lined street of mid-century ranch homes, each one looking like the last with the exception of brick or paint color.
“Slow down a little,” said Manny as he scrutinized each house in turn.
“You don’t know the address, do you?” Maureen said, easing her foot off the accelerator and tapping the brake.
“I’ll know it when I see it. I’m pretty sure it’s another block down, and I know it’s on my side.”
The homes crawled by, and just when Maureen began to think that he didn’t actually know which one they were looking for, Manny let out a sharp cry.
“That’s it. It’s the one with the railing on the steps.”
All of the houses were situated on a little hill above the street with four or five concrete steps leading to the front stoop. Maureen quickly picked out the only one with an iron railing fastened to the steps and pulled over to the curb. She slammed the truck into park and stared up at the square, red-brick house before turning to look at Manny.
“There’s no cop cars or anything around here,” she said. “Do you think they don’t know yet?”
“I’m not sure, honestly,” Manny said. “Does this street look familiar?”
“It’s a neighborhood street with trees. They all look the same to me.”
They got out of the truck and paced up and down the street. Maureen swung her head from side to side searching for something from her dream to flash inside her mind. Nothing came, but something was definitely missing.
“I don’t see the c
ar,” she said to Manny, who was leaning against his truck, watching her.
Manny turned and labored up the steps to the front door of the house. Maureen looked on as he rang the doorbell and waited. The door remained shut, and after a moment, Manny peered into the large window to the right of the door. When that apparently didn’t yield anything, he quickly went around the side of the house and disappeared into the backyard. He emerged a minute or so later around the other side and came back down the hill.
“There’s no one home,” he said, leaning on the truck next to Maureen and staring back at the house. “And there’s no sign of fire or anything.”
“Well, maybe we should drive further into town and see if there’s something going on,” she suggested, not knowing what else they could do. She knew they needed to find the Naismiths, but if they weren’t home, they could be anywhere.
“All right, let’s get going,” Manny said.
“You good to drive?” she asked, holding out his keys. His speech was already much clearer, but he was still carrying himself as if he was in pain.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I still feel like shit.”
Maureen jumped back behind the wheel and turned the truck around, heading north. Within a few minutes, they came to the county highway and Maureen turned right, back to Main Street. Manny stayed silent, and Maureen could tell that he was wrestling with something.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I was just thinking,” he said slowly, “and don’t think I mean anything by this, but, what if you didn’t see Benny in your dream? What if it’s another kid that just looked similar?”
Unholy Shepherd Page 24
