I Will Fear No Evil Read online

  Jeremiah struggled to a halt again. His shoulders were hunched now and pain had crept into his voice. It took everything Mark had in him not to say a word, knowing that he had to just let Jeremiah get the story out in his own time. He glanced up just in time to see the waitress heading his way with his burger. He made eye contact with her and shook his head.

  Miraculously she seemed to understand. She nodded and headed back to the kitchen. His stomach rumbled angrily, but he knew that if she had interrupted that Jeremiah would have shut down and never finished telling the story. And clearly telling the story was what he needed to do to start getting over what had happened overseas.

  Mark had known there had been violence, bloodshed, terrorists, and danger to both Cindy and Jeremiah. He had assumed that all of that, coupled with having to be that man again, part of that world again, was what had caused him to shut down and be so distant. Mark realized now, though, that even if that was what Jeremiah believed, the problem was actually far more personal.

  “The others...they were cruel. They were angry that I had married outside my faith. They lashed out at Cindy. And do you know what she did? She defended me, us, our relationship even though it wasn’t real. And I knew then that even though we weren’t married that she meant far more to me than anyone else in that room and that I couldn’t tolerate them not accepting her. The things she said...I wanted to cry...and given how beautiful, how eloquent, the fact that the others weren’t moved shocked me. Suddenly everything was so clear. The family I had tried so hard to protect didn’t deserve my protection. But Cindy did. She deserved all the love and loyalty I could ever show her.”

  Jeremiah’s voice had started to shake and Mark’s heart ached for him even as he pictured the scene and how terrible it must have been. Jeremiah was the strongest person he knew and to see him hurt, vulnerable, was frightening and told him so much about what that reunion had cost him.

  “I realized that if they couldn’t accept her, then they could never be part of my life again, not even for a moment. And for once it had nothing to do with me trying to protect them. It was all about me protecting Cindy. I tore my clothes for my parents, my sister and her husband. I let them know that they were dead to me and I to them and that we would never see each other again. For the sake of my sweet, compassionate sister-in-law who embraced Cindy and called her sister I did not rend my clothes for my brother or her. Nor did I rend them for my uncle. Still, it is unlikely that I will meet any of those three again in this life. I chose my family. I chose Cindy. And God help me, I think she chose me. And I feel guilt and shame every day because she deserves better than me, but I can’t find the strength to let her go.”

  Jeremiah looked up and Mark was stunned to see tears running down his cheeks. He had never thought he would see the other man cry. He was at a loss as to what to do.

  Speak.

  The voice that wasn’t his came again, prompting him. He reached across the table and gripped Jeremiah’s arm. “You need to stop focusing on yourself and start focusing on her. You say she chose you. Then she did so of her own free will, knowing who you are and who you were and everything you can be. If you love her then you need to let her make her own decision in this matter, not try to control it for her.”

  “What are you saying?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I’m saying that you’re going about this all wrong. What you realized when dealing with your family was true. Cindy is more family to you than they are. So, instead of trying to find the strength to let her go, you need to love her enough to find the strength to hold on tight to her and let her love make you the man you want to be. You know what happened to me. You know that Traci has been my salvation. She has been the lifeline I have clung to. She has made me a better man because I strive to be for her sake. You must let Cindy do the same for you.”

  “There are obstacles in our way.”

  “And when did obstacles ever stop you? Look, I never believed there was any kind of higher power before I met you two. But working with you, getting to know you, watching the way things have gone in your life, even I’ve begun to believe that maybe there is a God out there. And if there is only one thing I’m sure I know about Him it’s that He seems to want the two of you together. The more you fight that, the more miserable it makes you.”

  “And what if she wakes up one day and realizes she made a mistake?” Jeremiah asked, fear in his voice.

  “Then by God you fight for her with everything you have in you, and if there’s one thing I know you know how to do it’s fight.”

  The corner of Jeremiah’s mouth turned up slightly. “You have no idea just how well I can fight.”

  “Then stop fighting against Cindy and start fighting for Cindy.”

  “I think it’s a bit more than that,” Jeremiah said.

  Mark cocked his head to the side. “How do you figure?”

  Jeremiah leaned back slightly. “When I came to California something struck me about the people here that was different than anywhere I’d ever been before.”

  “I can think of a number of ways that could be true. After all, we are the land of the fruits, the nuts, and the flakes so they say.”

  Jeremiah actually gave him a full smile for that one. “That aside, what struck me was that blood family is less important here than anywhere else I’ve ever been. People here choose the people they want in their lives and they make friends their family. Look at Cindy. She has parents and a brother and yet they’re not the ones she considers close to her.”

  Mark nodded. “There’s a saying here. You can’t choose your relatives, but you can choose your family.”

  “I never understood that. In Israel, in my brother’s house, I had my first moment of enlightenment about that and how it comes to be. But I can honestly say I didn’t truly understand it until you told me I was like your brother.”

  Mark nodded, not trusting himself to speak in that moment.

  “My first thought was that I had a brother and he and I aren’t close so it seemed somewhat absurd to me. Then, I realized that you truly have been more of a brother to me than my own. You have been there for me, you have fought and bled and broken oaths and laws for me. And when things were bad, when I knew I was being recalled in July, you were the one I turned to. I had spent so much time being wary of you, afraid to be myself around you because I was afraid you’d figure out who I had been in my past, or, at least, what I had been. Yet, when everything went wrong and fell apart, you were the one I turned to because you were the one I trusted to understand and to help. You were able to do for me what my own flesh and blood couldn’t. And when I came back broken, distant, you fought to stay close and to be a part of my life. That’s something my family wasn’t capable of.”

  Mark was struggling not to cry. He had definitely grown up in one of those households where it wasn’t seen as manly. It was hard, though, because Jeremiah’s words touched him. He’d been telling the truth. Making friends wasn’t easy for him. He walked around encased in a protective, sarcastic shell that very few had ever cracked.

  He cleared his throat. “If we were in the second grade this would be the part where we’d cut our palms, shake hands and declare ourselves blood brothers.”

  “I think there’s already been enough blood spilled between us,” Jeremiah said.

  “Agreed.” Mark stretched out his hand. Jeremiah took it and they shook solemnly.

  “Brothers,” Mark said.

  “Brothers,” Jeremiah affirmed.

  “Now, as your brother I think I need to tell you to go make nice with Cindy or I’ll be obliged to kick your ass.”

  Jeremiah laughed out loud and the sound clearly surprised him as much as it did Mark. “It would be amusing to watch you try.”

  “Well, just as a warning, I don’t fight fair,” Mark said.

  “And I don’t even comprehend the meaning of that,” Jeremiah countered.

  Mark saw the waitress over Jeremiah’s shoulder. She looked at him and he nodded. A few
seconds later she brought over his burger. It tasted like it had been sitting under a heat lamp the entire time, but it was worth it because he felt like they had made a breakthrough. Jeremiah might still have a lot of crap to work through, but at least he was on the road to being his old self.

  “Sure you don’t want something to eat?” he asked after his third bite.

  Jeremiah shook his head. “No. I figure I need to go talk to Cindy, get a few things straightened out.”

  “Smart move.”

  Jeremiah stood. “Thank you...Mark.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  “And for what it’s worth, I was wrong. Clearly I did need to talk.”

  “Nailed it,” Mark said before taking another bite.

  Jeremiah turned and left the bar. After he had gone the waitress came over. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Mark nodded. “Just had to work some stuff out with my brother,” he said before he could stop himself.

  She nodded and wandered off, leaving Mark alone with his thoughts. Clearly fatherhood has made me all kinds of sentimental, he reflected. Maybe Traci’s not the only one having crazy hormone fluctuations. But, having lived without that kind of sentiment for much of his life, he was pretty sure this was a good thing. At least whatever mistakes he made with his family would be his and not someone else’s.

  He had just finished his meal and was paying when his phone rang. A minute later he was up and heading for the door. Just when he was reflecting on brotherly love and getting ready to do something ridiculous like break into a chorus of kumbaya he was brought crashing back to the real world by being sent out to a crime scene. Someone had been murdered. The sad truth was that about fifteen percent of people murdered were murdered by a spouse or close family member. It helped put the whole brotherly love thing in perspective.

  The location of the body was on a little league baseball field of all places. Apparently it had been discovered and called in by the groundskeeper. More than that Mark didn’t know, but he wished they’d called in someone else. He already had his hands full.

  When he arrived on the scene there were already three patrol cars there and officers were busy cordoning off the area. Sitting on one of the bottom benches in the stands was a man with graying hair who looked to be in his fifties. He was sitting with his head buried in his hands. Mark guessed that he was the groundskeeper who had called it in. He’d talk to him after he took a look at the body.

  He walked out onto the field. A couple of officers were busy setting up some portable lights. He could see a dark shape lying on the ground halfway between the pitcher’s mound and home plate and he felt a flicker of disgust. Was nothing sacred anymore?

  He recognized a couple of officers from the day before who glanced at him then hurriedly glanced away. It struck him as odd and he wondered what was going on that they were acting so skittish.

  A few moments later he was standing next to the body and he suddenly understood. He looked down and thought that he was going to be sick. A girl was staked out on a pentagram in an identical pose to the one Cheyenne had been in. She, too, was dead, her eyes locked wide in terror.

  The only difference was this time it was someone he knew.

  8

  The dead girl was Lizzie’s roommate, Michelle. Less than twenty-four hours ago she had been alive, talking to him in her apartment and now she was dead, murdered by some psychopath. But why? It couldn’t be random. She had to have been chosen. It was too crazy to actually be a coincidence. Was it because of something she was into, or something Lizzie was involved with, or just because he had gone to see her and he was the detective investigating the first murder?

  A chill danced up his spine. If it was because of him then no one he knew was safe. If it was because of Lizzie then Traci and the kids could still be in danger. He started to feel a little dizzy and he bent over, hands braced on his knees, and tried to get his head lower to increase the oxygen flow.

  “You alright, Detective?”

  He turned to see a woman in a black suit standing behind him. She had a sleek blond ponytail and piercing eyes.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Trina Mills, F.B.I..” She pulled out her badge and showed it to him.

  “What is the F.B.I. doing here?” he asked, startled.

  “We caught wind of this case earlier today. I hopped a plane and your boss was kind enough to tell me where I could find you. I see I’m just in time for the party.”

  “That’s how you got here, but it still doesn’t answer why,” he said.

  “Let’s just say that some of the details of this case match up with others I’ve investigated.”

  “Serial killer,” Mark said, feeling his chest tighten even more. That was the last thing they needed. The town had barely recovered from its last serial killer.

  “Perhaps, but let’s just say there is a greater pattern, a greater concern.”

  There was something she clearly didn’t want to tell him. That was not particularly surprising. In his experience the F.B.I. usually kept their cards close to their vest.

  He forced himself to straighten slowly as the dizziness finally faded away. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really. This girl was my sister-in-law’s roommate. And I was talking to her last night about her concerns that my sister-in-law hadn’t been home in a week and she had a bad feeling something had happened to her.”

  Trina whistled. “Well that puts you smack dab in the middle of this mess, especially when you consider that you’re the detective assigned to the first pentagram murder.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said with a grunt. “And please, let’s not call them the pentagram murders. That’s just the sort of name the press loves to get wind of and run with making all our jobs so much harder.”

  “It’s your turf, I’ve no desire to make things harder on you,” Trina said with a shrug.

  There was something about her that was slightly off. He totally believed that she was a Fed. She had that vibe to her, but there was something else. Before he could stop himself he asked her bluntly, “So, are you with the unit that investigates occult crimes?”

  “Among other things,” she said.

  He blinked in surprise, shocked that she hadn’t bothered to deny it. He decided to press his luck further. “You ever seen some of these symbols that she’s got written all over her?”

  “A few,” Trina admitted. “Though certainly not all of them.”

  “Care to share?”

  She pointed to a marking on the girl’s left hand. “That one is an ancient symbol representing immortality.”

  “Not that it did Michelle any good,” he said morbidly. Truth be told he was struggling to keep it together and not let worry for Traci or her sister overtake him completely. The more he stared at Michelle’s body the harder that was getting.

  “Tell you what, you take a look around, and I’ll do the same. Then we’ll question the man who found the body together. After that we’ll have a sitdown and you can fill me in on everything I need to know.”

  “You’re the boss,” he said.

  “Think of me more as a willing partner with a bigger computer database and a lot more experience with...this type...of case.”

  And there was something about the way she said those last few words that made him wish he’d never encountered this type of case, whatever it was.

  The crime scene reminded him of the last one. The location was completely different, but everything else was the same, right down to the markings on the body and the fact that both women had been wearing similar white nightgowns. He told Trina that. She had nodded and taken it all in. The groundskeeper had no information to share other than that he’d been there to check on a couple of things, saw her, and called the police.

  “So, what did you see?” he finally asked Trina as they were standing out by his car.

  “Pretty much what you did. I’ll be interested to
know what the coroner finds, for both bodies.”

  “You and me both.”

  She shook her head. “Look, I’m jetlagged, you look tired, let’s regroup in the morning, okay?”

  “That works for me.”

  She nodded, then headed for her car. Once there she turned and looked at him. “Detective, it’s a nice clear night, the moon is bright. Good night for a coven meeting, don’t you think?”

  Before he could say anything she got in the car and drove off, but she had given him an idea. He pulled out his phone and called Liam. To his surprise his partner picked up.

  “Why are you answering your phone, you’re on vacation,” he growled.

  “Why are you calling me when you know I’m on vacation?” Liam countered.

  Mark sighed. “Because I need your help with something. It’s so potentially dangerous that even I’m not stupid enough to go it alone.”

  “That’s saying something,” Liam said.

  “Yeah. So, where did you end up going?”

  “I’m home right now. Just been doing a lot of day trips, doing all the touristy things I’ve never done. Did an overnight trip to San Francisco, but that’s the farthest away I’ve gone.”

  “I hate to ask, but-”

  “I can be dressed in five minutes. Where do you want me to meet you?”

  “The park downtown. Meet me in the parking area on the south side.”

  “Done.”

  Liam hung up and Mark got into his car. He hoped that Trina was right and that it was a good night for a coven meeting because he had questions and he hoped some wiccan somewhere had answers. Before he could find out, though, he had to make sure Traci was okay.

  Cindy had made it through the rest of the day and as soon as she got home she changed into her fluffiest, fuzziest fleece pajamas which sported cavorting cats. She was standing in front of the refrigerator unenthusiastically taking inventory of her leftover options when the doorbell rang.

  She closed the refrigerator and headed to the front door debating whether it was a get out the vote volunteer or Jehovah’s Witnesses at the door. She’d had visits from both groups a lot lately. When she looked through the peephole, though, she was surprised to see Jeremiah standing there with a large bag in his arms.