Firebird Alex (The Sedumen Chronicles Book 1)

by Orren Merton

  “Why do you…” I didn’t know if I should ask questions or just offer sympathy, but I couldn’t help myself, I was curious.

  “Think she’s dead? Well, first of all my mom wasn’t the type to walk away from her family. She quit her career as soon my brother was born, so her family was her life. She wouldn’t have just left us.”

  I nodded.

  “There’s also Josh’s Bar Mitzvah. It was all she talked about. She was looking forward to it more than anyone. No way would she have missed it.”

  I nodded again.

  “And then there was the blood…”

  “Blood?”

  “Yeah. We called the police the first evening she wasn’t home. We were told that we had to wait forty-eight hours to file a missing persons report. My dad knew—he just knew—my mom wasn’t just late. Her purse was where she’d put it the day before, like she’d never even left the house. So he scoured everything, every inch of wall and carpet in the whole house, looking for anything. And by the door, he found some hair, some blood and half a fingernail on the door jamb, and some blood on the carpet. That was enough for a detective to come over.”

  “That had to be horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks,” Jake said, a pensive smile across his face. “That’s what I meant by heavy at home. We all know that something really horrible happened to Mom, but we don’t know exactly what. So every day, there’s a chance that the detective, Sergeant Godinez, will call to tell us that they found her remains or something. That lack of closure is just torture, you know?”

  “I can imagine,” I nodded. “I’ve been a total mess for a month since my mom died of uterine cancer…just a waste of space, really. Not the same, I know.”

  “But the pain runs deep, either way,” Jake raised his eyebrows in sympathy.

  “Yeah. And Rabbi Hirsch is trying to help me finally pick myself up.”

  “We’ve all been in family grief counseling, and it helps,” Jake nodded. “I think knowing once and for all what happened to Mom will help even more though.”

  “It will happen,” I tried to reassure him. “I’m really sorry it’s taking so long though.”

  “I appreciate it, Alex. I really do.”

  “If there’s anything I can do…”

  The anguish on Jake’s face began to slowly give way to an impish smile. “Well, there is something…”

  “What?” I asked, matching his grin with one of my own.

  “You could give me your phone number.”

  “I don’t have a phone,” I shrugged.

  “Seriously?” he balked.

  “I’m completely serious. Remember, I don’t hang out with people. So I have nobody to call. My mom had a phone. There’s one in the condo. But I never needed one of my own.”

  “But don’t you want to text people sometimes? Like the rabbi now that you’re staying with him? Or maybe a UCI computer science student with a bangin’ BRZ and great taste in Chinese food?”

  “Any particular student?” I laughed.

  “I have one in mind,” Jake raised his eyebrows playfully. “Besides, there’s so much other stuff, internet, cameras…I mean you’ve seen today’s phones, right?”

  “Sure, I’m not that lame,” I said. “But I’m sorta in a weird place right now…I don’t have a job, I have some money in the bank, but I don’t want to take on any more bills until I figure out what I’m going to do with myself, you know?”

  “I gotcha,” Jake said. “So let’s get you a pay-as-you-go phone. No long- plans or contracts. How does that sound?”

  “Are those phones expensive?” I asked.

  “We can go to Best Buy in The District and check it out. There’s usually some form of Android pay-as-you-go phone for less than a hundred bucks. If that’s too expensive, remember, I’ve got money. I don’t mind helping you out. Hell, it’s the least I can do, since I’m pushing this so I can talk to you!”

  “If it’s cheap enough, I think I can handle it,” I smiled. “But I appreciate it, thanks. You can help me pick out the phone though.”

  “I can definitely do that,” he said as we rose from the table and headed back to his car.

  We drove to the Best Buy in The District outdoor shopping mall on Jamboree Boulevard in Irvine. Jake walked me directly to the section of phones. A salesman tried to approach us but Jake quickly shooed him away so that he could assist me himself. It was sort of funny and cute too. I ended up getting an AT&T phone that I paid for myself, but Jake picked up a couple of $25 wireless cards for me, which I appreciated.

  We returned to his BRZ, and Jake guided me through the steps to activate my phone and load it with one card’s worth of minutes. The first person I texted was Jake:

  Thank you for the wireless minutes. even if it wasn’t a totally selfless purchase.

  Jake smiled when he saw it and responded:

  I’ll admit it my reasons were selfish! :)

  I laughed, and then Jake showed me how to take his text message and use it to enter his name into my contacts list.

  The next person I texted was the rabbi:

  Hi rabbi this is Alex. I’ve spent the afternoon with Jake. Thanks for texting him. I bought a phone.

  I showed the message to Jake right after I sent it. He smiled and nodded. Not a minute later, I got a response text from Rabbi Norm:

  Alex good to hear from you. Are you still with Jake?

  I was a bit surprised by the rabbi’s response. I had expected something light and fluffy. I showed the text to Jake, who just shrugged. So I responded:

  Yes. Do you need something from us?

  And almost immediately the response arrived:

  Rachel gets out of school in 15 minutes and I can’t make it. Could you two run by Tustin Middle School and drive her home?

  “Am I jumping to conclusions,” I asked Jake, “or is something wrong?”

  Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t mind picking her up at all.”

  I nodded and answered the rabbi:

  Sure no problem, Jake is happy to. Is everything okay?

  Jake, who was looking over my shoulder, nodded. The answer was not reassuring:

  We’ll talk about it when I get home. I’ll probably be home early.

  I turned to Jake with concern.

  “I don’t know,” he said, starting up his Subaru. “I hope it’s just usual rabbinic stress or something. But let’s get his daughter and then I’ll drop you two off. You can always text me later about it, if you want to.”

  “Is that your way of telling me that you would like me to text you,” I shot a wry grin at him.

  “Maybe…” he grinned back.

  8

  Rachel was surprised to see me waiting for her in front of Tustin Middle School instead of Rabbi Norm, but she still smiled and ran up to me. Jake gave her a warm hello and she smiled back. Jake drove us to the rabbi’s house and pulled to the curb. I opened the door, grabbed the books that Jake had checked out for me, and got out of the car. Rachel pushed the seat forward and climbed out of the back while I thanked him for everything, letting him know I’d contact him later that evening after I knew what was up. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shake his hand or hug him or whatever; I’d never said goodbye to a guy after spending time with him like this. My hands were full, and he was still sitting in the driver’s seat, so I decided to just smile and wave. He smiled and waved back, then drove off.

  “I think he really likes you,” Rachel grinned mischievously.

  “We’ve only met a couple of times,” I rolled my eyes and marched her to the front door. But I was thinking the same thing.

  Rachel did her homework while I cracked open Demonology of Medieval Europe. Lots of ox-headed demons, goat-headed demons, cloven-hoofed demons. The thing is, I had no real idea if any of them were like my dad.

  Before five in the afternoon, Rabbi Norm walked through the front door. Rachel got up from the dining room table and shouted, “You’re home early!” as she
walked to the door and hugged him. Rabbi Norm hugged her tight, closing his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Rachel asked as she pulled away, concerned. “Someone died?”

  I’d never thought about what it must be like for a young child to have her parent come home sad not just from a normal bad day at the office, but because someone died. I wondered if that happened a lot if your job is ministering to the terminally ill and doing funerals. It made me feel sad for both of them.

  I got up and walked to the entryway as well.

  “I think so. Not from our congregation though, it was Father Greely.”

  “Your priest friend from Long Beach?” Rachel asked.

  Rabbi Norm nodded as he took off his jacket and hung it up in the entryway closet.

  “How did he die?” I asked. “He must have been young.”

  Rabbi Norm looked at me with concern. “He died like…” He sighed heavily. “Like Jake’s mom.”

  Rachel turned around toward me. “I didn’t know Jake’s mom was dead. I’m so sorry!”

  “I wasn’t sure she was dead either,” I said. “Are you sure?”

  “We are sure of nothing,” Rabbi Norm said, walking toward the living room. “The situation is identical. Signs of struggle, some traces, but no body.” Rabbi Norm lowered himself heavily onto the large couch in the living room.

  I sat in a chair across from him. “So it’s a missing person case?”

  He nodded.

  “So…he’s not dead?” Rachel asked, having plopped herself next to the rabbi.

  “It’s complicated,” Rabbi Norm said, sounding very old and tired. He reached his arm around Rachel, and she reached her own arm behind the rabbi and pulled herself close, then rested her head on his chest under his shoulder.

  I so wished that I had my mom around to hold that way.

  Rabbi Norm must have seen the longing on my face, or maybe just guessed it. He reached his hand out to me. I reached forward and gave him my hand. He held onto my fingers firmly but gently at the same time. It felt nice, like I was there for him, and he for me. I’d never had a father or an uncle around, but I imagined that if I did, this is what it might have felt like.

  After a few moments Rabbi Norm released my hand and twisted his head toward Rachel. “Honey, would you mind doing your homework in your room? I don’t feel like cooking; maybe we’ll order in some pizza tonight,” he said as he kissed her forehead.

  “Okay,” Rachel nodded. She pushed herself off the couch and grabbed her books from the dining room table. “Have fun telling Alex all about it while I pretend I have no idea,” she playfully stuck her tongue out at me. I turned to Rachel with a tight, teasing grin.

  Rabbi Norm chucked. “Thank you, Rachel.”

  She went to her room.

  I turned back to the rabbi. “You look—”

  “Terrible,” Rabbi Norm finished.

  “Worried, I was going to say.”

  “This has been weighing on my soul for a while,” the rabbi admitted. “Now that it’s hit a personal friend…and the timing…”

  “What do you mean? Please tell me.”

  “Before I begin, I must confess I’m not sure I should involve—”

  “Come on,” I curled my lips. “You sent Rachel away so we could talk about it, didn’t you? I want to listen. I want to help.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t want to burden you if you weren’t interested. Especially now that you have a gentleman caller…”

  I playfully pursed my lips. “Gentleman caller? Wow…I don’t even know what that is. But I can guess. Yes, thank you for contacting Jake, even though it was a surprise. We had a great time. And I’m guessing we’ll see each other again.”

  “I hope so,” Rabbi Norm said.

  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on. Especially if this is related to Jake’s mom. I’m sorry, my ‘gentleman caller’s’ mom,” I joked.

  “Fair enough,” Rabbi Norm chuckled. “I’m not sure what you know about Mary—Jake’s mom.”

  “Jake and I talked about it. I know she went missing with traces of a struggle by their door.”

  “Okay,” Rabbi Norm began. “I’ve always been interested in certain types of crimes. When those types of cases come up, I consult with a close friend in the Irvine police department.”

  “And missing-persons cases interest you?” I asked.

  “In the usual course of events a fair number of people around Southern California ‘vanish.’ Usually it’s drunk spouses who sheepishly return home a couple of days later or unremembered trips to Vegas by a partner or some such. But this is more,” he explained. “When I looked into it I discovered about five other such disappearances, in which there were signs that the missing person didn’t simply leave on their own, but signs of a struggle—maybe a desperate one. That is what interested me.”

  “And they’re just happening around here?” I asked.

  “Spread all over Southern California,” Rabbi Norm said. “There has been one victim in Orange County—Jake’s mom. A disappearance has also been reported in Los Angeles County, one in the San Fernando Valley, and two in Long Beach…three, now, counting my friend.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I shook my head. I didn’t know what else to say.

  “You know, we spoke Saturday afternoon; he wanted to have lunch today.”

  A cold chill spread across my arms. “But he never made it to lunch, did he?”

  “Apparently, he hadn’t been heard from since Sunday night. I convinced the Church to do a thorough search for anything out of the ordinary, and they found hair, blood, and other signs of struggle by the front door of the rectory.”

  “Rectory?”

  “His home on the property,” Rabbi Norm explained.

  I nodded.

  “They got the Long Beach police involved at that point. I’ve been following up all day. I just…”

  “It’s horrible not knowing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you want to do something about it,” I guessed.

  “I want to look into it, yes.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. “So where do we start?”

  Rabbi Norm gave me a long look. “Alex, I don’t think—”

  “You wanted me to join the world, right?”

  “This isn’t quite what I had in mind,” the rabbi said, “but yes.”

  “I’m not ready to get a job or go to college yet, but I want to be productive. I can’t imagine anything more productive than helping you figure this out. So please Rabbi—let me help.”

  “Okay, Alex,” he said.

  “So…where do we start? Do we contact your friend in Irvine?” I asked again.

  “We’ll start here, but let’s start tomorrow. I’m still…I just want to process this for a while. After we do some legwork, we’ll bring anything we uncover to my detective friend.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

  “You can see how Rachel is doing, and let her know she’s welcome back here whenever she’d like,” the rabbi said, then closed his eyes, leaned his head back and sighed.

  9

  I had texted Jake Monday night that the rabbi’s priest friend had died and that I was going to hang out with the rabbi on Tuesday. Jake gave his condolences and said that if I needed anything to let him know.

  Tuesday morning, the rabbi dropped Rachel off at school, then returned and brought out his MacBook to show me a folder of data that he’d collected about the five missing persons cases he thought might be related. He grew extremely sad as he added his friend Father Greely to the list.

  “Can you find out anything about their jobs?” I asked. “Jake said his mother was a full-time mom.”

  Rabbi Norm nodded. “Okay, that can’t hurt. Obviously I know what Father Greely’s job was,” he said. He quickly created a new column in his spreadsheet and filled in Mary Brockton Harman’s job as mother and Father Patrick Greely’s as priest. “I’m going to
call Our Savior and see if they’ll be willing to share the occupation of the two victims from their parish.”

  I nodded and moved to the living room while the rabbi got out his phone and dialed the Church. I opened the demonology book I’d started skimming before, but I couldn’t focus. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on the rabbi…but I sorta was. It sounded like they wanted to be nice, but he was asking for information that they didn’t know if they could give him. After about an hour and a half of talking to different people, and sometimes hanging up and waiting for a call back, he called me over again.

  “Okay,” Rabbi Norm exhaled. “It took a lot of being shifted from person to person and calling in favors, but I got the information. Kevin Jefferson was a freelance graphic designer, and Selina Martinez was a stay-at-home mom.”

  “Got it,” I said, sitting down at his laptop and entering the data. “I’m surprised that it was so hard to get them to tell you. Isn’t there some sort of sharing between preachers or something?”

  “Not with membership info,” he said.

  “But I thought that was all public; I know my mom used to get some kind of directory,” I said.

  “Well, a religious institution’s membership directory is not public per se. It is only circulated among members,” Rabbi Norm explained. “But the directory information only includes name, phone number, address, and number of children. More personal information is only kept internally in membership records, and very few people have access to that.”

  “Not even the priest or rabbi?” I asked.

  “In Congregation B’nai David I don’t have that data myself. I can ask for information if I need it, and I’d be very surprised if I was denied, but generally I only need phone numbers, which, as you noted, we distribute among the membership.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s quite similar with Our Savior. I had to ask the directors for the information, and ultimately they decided they knew me—and trusted me—enough to share their data. Hmmm, that’s interesting,” the rabbi moved from standing over me to sitting next to me. “The victims were all people that worked from home. Or rectory, of course.”