The Lord Is My Shepherd Read Free Page A

said.
    Mark gave him the ghost of a smile. “Thanks, Samaritan.”
    Jeremiah just nodded. He refused to let the detective bait him.

    As she walked out of the sanctuary, Cindy took a deep breath of fresh air, which seemed to clear her head. A crowd of strangers stared and whispered as she passed by. She had never felt so on display. Pastor Roy was talking with a detective, but he smiled at her and gave a reassuring nod. She'd call him later. What a sight she must be! She still wore Jeremiah's coat, and he had his arm around her shoulders, half-pushing her toward the parking lot.
    Only a short hedge separated the parking lots of the church and the synagogue. A small gap in the bushes close to the buildings allowed people to cross from one parking lot to the other. The dirt pathway was a testament to the unspoken accord the two congregations had shared for nearly thirty years. On Sunday mornings the church used the synagogue's lot for overflow parking. On Saturday mornings the synagogue did the same.
    Jeremiah steered Cindy toward his car, an older black Mustang. She hesitated a moment. Was it safe to leave with him? After all, he was really a stranger to her. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one looked their way. Her coworkers would be occupied by the police for quite a while. Jeremiah opened the car door, and she allowed him to help her inside. Moments later they drove out of the lot.
    “Right or left?” he asked.
    “Right. Then right on Stanton,” she said.
    She looked at Jeremiah sideways. “I thought you were the murderer when I first saw you.”
    “Lucky for you I wasn't.” He glanced at her and smiled.
    “Yeah, lucky.”
    “It explains why you tried to get away from me, though.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Don't be. You were terrified, and I came out of nowhere. You seem better now.”
    “It helped to leave.”
    “Not surprising,” he said. “Sometimes a little sunshine can chase the shadows away.”
    “I like that.”
    He turned onto Stanton Street. “Now where?”
    “Turn right at the signal,” she told him, forcing her eyes back to the road.
    He nodded and slowed as he made the turn. “You're the church secretary?”
    “Yes.”
    “So basically you run the church?”
    She laughed, and the sound surprised her. “I'm not sure that the pastor would agree with you.”
    “Then he's an idiot.”
    “I wouldn't say that,” she said.
    “I would. Marie, the secretary at the synagogue, is like the field marshal. She schedules meetings and events, makes sure everyone knows what they're doing every day, keeps the staff informed of what's going on, listens to everybody's problems and tries to solve them all.”
    “That pretty much sums up my job. So, what is it you do at the synagogue? I think you probably said, but I don't remember much of the last hour.”
    “I'm the rabbi.”
    “Oh!”
    He laughed. “It's really not that impressive. I just try to help people like you do. Then once a week or so I get up and make a speech.”
    “You're being modest.”
    “Am I?”
    She nodded. “I've attended synagogue a couple of times, and I know there's a lot more to it than that.”
    “Really? You better tell me so I can expand my job description.”
    Cindy wished she had a witty response, but at the moment, she felt as if her brain were fogged like a windshield on a cold day. Instead, she just stared out the front window.
    “It's left on this next street, second house on the right,” she said.
    He pulled up outside her tiny yellow house with white trim. She stepped out of the car and felt a chill run up her spine. For a moment she had an image of walking into her home and tripping over another dead body.
    Cindy jumped as Jeremiah's hand descended on her shoulder. She hadn't even realized that he had gotten out of the car.
    “I'll walk you inside,” he said matter-of-factly.
    “Thank you.” She took a deep breath and walked up to the front door, pulling her keys from her purse.
    “Wait!” he whispered.
    She