Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

The park across from the synagogue echoed with the sounds of mourning. A woman on her knees was screaming, pulling at her hair, lost in a storm of despair. When anyone tried to touch her she violently shoved their hands away and doubled over, her sobs renewing louder than before.

"Someone get that woman out of here!" Chief Williamson yelled.

A number of cops stepped forward and hauled the woman up to her feet. One officer leaned in and whispered something in her ear as he gently stroked her hair.

"What is he? The Vic Whisperer?" Williamson said sarcastically to another detective standing next to him.

"Whatever works, sir," the shocked man mumbled, stepping away from the Chief with an embarrassed nod. Williamson noticed and coughed nervously.

"Right, sorry. Carry on," he muttered as he shuffled out of the way towards a line of reporters waiting just outside of the police line.

The sympathetic cop ignored their loud exchange and kept whispering soothing things in the distraught woman's ear. This calmed her down and she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be carried away towards a cruiser and away from the crime scene. And what a crime scene it was. Another dismembered body lay strewn in a rough circle around a park bench -- the torso propped against one of the footings, the head stacked on the bench seat above.

It was just after dawn, so the pulsing lights from the patrol cars strobed an eerie blue and red that gave the gore soaked grass an ethereal glow. Detective John Bergenson stood outside the crime scene tape, opposite the mob of reporters, and stared at the corpse's dull, lifeless eyes. The same sickly smell from the priest's crime scene wafted over to him, making his eyes water, and he put his hand up over his mouth.

"Should you be here?" A familiar voice broke his reverie and he looked up to see Rodriguez standing next to him.

"Hey, Roddy. Should you?" John noticed Rodriguez's cigarette. "When did you start smoking?" he asked, reaching for it. John popped the smoldering stub between his lips and drew the smoke deeply into his lungs.

"The dead priest, two days ago," Roddy answered as he took the cigarette back. "You?"

John exhaled and coughed. "Just now," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah, I needed that." He sighed. "This place reeks."

Rodriguez lit another smoke and handed it to him. "I hear that. Meaty, eh? Perforated bowel. So, are you back?"

"What else am I gonna do? Duty calls and all that bullshit. Dave would understand." John took another drag, this time without coughing. "Williamson sent me home twice already and he doesn't want me here, but he wants me active. You do the math: third time's a charm," he said smugly.

"I saw him strutting around earlier, getting in the real cops' way. You sure you wanna poke at that bear with a short stick?"

"I don't know anymore. I think I need to be here, there's something weird going on." John clenched his hands together.

"This is all getting hinky, John. That's a rabbi," Roddy said, pointing at the body. "Looks like the same butcher job as the priest, but I'll have to take a closer look back at the morgue."

"He was a Marker of Faith," John's voice trailed off.

"Christ that's creepy, John."

"I just remembered it. That's what Dave said before he --"

"Let's not go there. I remember, okay?" Roddy dropped his cigarette and lit another one.

"Have you done Dave yet?"