CHAPTER 4
Daniel shoved the terrified child into the front seat, climbed in next to her, then slammed the door; he inserted the keys into the ignition, gunned the motor, and sped down the street. “I’ll tell you why I’m doing this shortly, Rachel,” he said.
Sitting frozen in the passenger seat, Rachel couldn’t believe what was happening. Mr. Rosen had seemed so nice; it was so hard to believe he would kidnap her! Please, God, she silently prayed, help me! She pressed her fingers into the soft, cushioned passenger seat till her fingertips formed dents in its surface.
Half an hour later, her kidnapper parked in front of an abandoned warehouse on a deserted street. Before Rachel had a chance to escape out the passenger side, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out. Clutching her from behind, Daniel shoved her through the front door, through a huge storeroom, and into a closet; he then jerked her down a flight of stairs into a darkened cellar.
“Please let me go!” Rachel pleaded. “My mommy and daddy are worried about me! Please, let me go back to them!” She tried to pry his arms from around her chest as she spoke.
Sliding his arms down to her waist, Daniel pinned her arms against her sides. His muscular arms imprisoned her in a viselike grip. “Rachel, if you don’t be still, I’ll be forced to tie you up.” Defeated, shoulders slumped, Rachel let her arms drop to her sides. “You’re going to become my daughter. When I leave Israel, I’m taking you with me. You can have Heather’s room and all her toys and books.” He turned her loose and stepped back.
Rachel shook her head. “I’m not a Jew. I don’t want to be one.” She gazed up at her captor pleadingly. All she could see was a faint outline of his face and his body; it was too dark to see anything else.
Daniel smiled. “You won’t have to. I’m not going to make you.” Pushing a button on his watch, he made its face glow; he peered intently at its face. “I’ve got some things to do, so I’m going upstairs. I’m going to lock the cellar door so you can’t get out.” He turned and climbed the stairs leading up to the entrance, muttering to himself; pausing to flip on the light switch. Soft light flooded the cellar; a few seconds later, the door slammed behind him.
Rachel slowly turned around, staring at her prison. The cellar was mostly empty; only a few wooden crates and a few chairs and benches lay spread out in it. Dust lay caked on the stone floor, punctuated by footprints of bare stone created by her shoes and Daniel’s. Dropping into a hard-backed chair next to her, Rachel pushed her bangs out of her eyes, leaned sideways against the stone cold wall, and wept. Suddenly, a tap on her shoulder startled her.
Whirling around, Rachel saw Monica standing beside her, glowing. “Monica!” With a sob, she leaped to her feet and wrapped her arms around Monica’s chest as the angel hugged her. Rachel leaned back to look up at her. “Did you come to get me out?”
With a sad look in her eyes, Monica shook her head. “God didn’t send me to do that, Rachel, but He did send me to stay with you until you’re found. Your parents are looking for you even now, and they will have God’s assistance to find you.” She wiped the tears off Rachel’s cheeks and smiled. “Come over here. Let’s sit on this bench, and I’ll tell you some stories while we wait; how’s that?”
Nodding acquiescence, Rachel followed the caseworker toward a wooden bench that leaned against the wall, and perched on it beside Monica. For the next hour, as Rachel sat on its unyielding surface, shoes planted on the cellar’s dusty floor, and shoulders pressed against the cold stone wall, Monica told her stories of some of her old assignments. She told the child about the first time God had sent her and Tess to minister to Wayne and Joey Machulis, whom Daniel had talked about during supper earlier.
“When Tess and I first met them, shortly before Christmas, 1994, Wayne resented his brother,” Monica explained. “Their parents had died some time before, so Wayne was stuck with the job of looking after Joey. Joey felt hated by his older brother, but he had a good friend in a little girl named Serena. She made friends with him and helped him to cope with his fear of the dark.” She paused. "This was several years before Wayne and Joey moved to Ascension."
Rachel scratched her left arm. “Joey was afraid of the dark?”
Monica nodded. “His parents were killed one night, after they’d gone out, and that filled Joey with the fear that he would also die if he went out at night. It made Wayne very irritable, having to live with that, and with Joey’s mental challenges. As long as Joey had Serena, he could cope, but the day was rapidly approaching when he was going to lose her.”
Rachel winced. “Why?” She twisted her necklace around her index finger.
Monica folded her arms in her lap. Sadness filled her eyes. “Serena had a serious heart condition--it was caused by a virus. It was going to kill her, very shortly. And just before Christmas, it did.”
Rachel bit her lip. “That’s awful!” She wiped her face. “Is Serena in Heaven?”
Monica smiled. “Oh, yes. And with a new body, too. She and Joey have been spending much time together since the Rapture, exchanging stories about their lives and praising God.” Rachel smiled back, then brushed her bangs out of her eyes.
“Is Joey still retarded?” She tilted her head, leaning it against the frigid stone wall.
Monica shook her head. “Not anymore. He’s as smart as anyone, now. When God gave him a new glorified body, He gave Joey a new, glorified mind to go with it.” Rachel smiled again.
Monica leaned against the wall, her own shoulder flattening somewhat as it pressed against the wall’s frigid, unyielding surface. As Rachel listened, Monica told her about the yearly Christmas pageant that was scheduled to be held at the church on Christmas Eve; how Joey had assisted with the preparations, how she had finally persuaded Wayne to love and appreciate his brother, and how another angel of death, named Adam, had escorted Serena to her Heavenly home on the evening of the Christmas pageant. She also explained how Joey, who had been terrified of the dark since the death of his parents, had finally been persuaded to overcome his fear and go to the pageant, where Monica had revealed herself as an angel to the whole congregation, much to the joy and astonishment of everyone present.
“Whoa!” Rachel gazed at her admiringly. “That must have been something! I wish I could have seen that.”
Monica chuckled. “The whole community needed God to revive them. And He did. And then, the next day and in the days that followed, God had to send us back, to deliver the community from a con man--Wayne and Joey’s other brother--who used the miracle for his own greed.” She shook her head, frowning.
“That’s mean!“ Rachel bit her lower lip.
“It certainly was. Fortunately, God dealt with that man.” Monica paused, shifting position. Her shoes clicked as she repositioned them on the floor. “Then, three years later--shortly before Christmas, 1997, God sent us back to Wayne and Joey. Wayne went out into a snowstorm to purchase an angel for the top of the Christmas tree. Unfortunately, that storm was turning into a blizzard, so Tess went out to look for him. A blackout turned the whole neighborhood dark, so I stayed with Joey, to comfort him and tell him a story.”
“About what?”
Monica smiled. “About Mark Twain. The man who wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.”
“I‘ve read that book.” Rachel smiled, then frowned. “Uh, Mr. Rosen--he needs God to revive him, too, doesn’t he?”
Monica nodded. “Yes, he does, and you’re a wise girl to see that. Let us pray for him, you and me.” As she bent her head downward, Rachel did the same.
“Father,” Monica prayed, “there is a grief-stricken, angry, troubled man upstairs. Please heal him, and help us know how to help him.” She paused. “And please lead Rachel’s parents to her, and persuade Daniel Rosen to release her to them. Amen.”
“Amen.” Rachel cleared her throat. With a comforting smile, Monica put an arm around the child and drew her against her own waist.
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Upstairs, Daniel rummaged through the materials he had bought that afternoon. After locking Rachel in the cellar, he had moved the materials he’d purchased from the back of the storeroom into one of the abandoned office rooms; now he checked to make sure he had everything he needed. He had purchased the ingredients needed to make a bomb, each ingredient from a different shop. During the night, he intended to set it up in the spot where the two witnesses preached; before dawn, he would return to the spot and set the timer. Hopefully, the device would kill the witnesses before any crowds began to form.
With a sigh, he pulled his smooth leather wallet out of his jeans pocket. Pulling a picture out, he gazed at it for a long moment. Heather’s smiling face gazed at him.
With a sigh, Daniel kissed the photo. “I’ll keep my promise. I won’t try to make Rachel a Jew. But, you, Heather--if only you’d kept the faith!” He sighed.
He slipped the photo back into his wallet, then slipped the wallet into his pocket. As he leaned against the plaster-coated wall, resting his face on his hands, he began to reminisce...
"You what?!" Daniel gaped at his daughter in shocked disbelief. "You’ve accepted a Christian Savior? How could you do that to me, Heather?" Shock and rage collided in his heart as he stared at her, his mouth dropped open.
Heather gazed at her father pleadingly. "Not a Christian Savior. A Jewish Messiah. The one we’ve been waiting for!" She touched his arm. "He’s your Messiah, too, Daddy!" She tried to put her arms around him, but he pushed her away. "He is! Really!"
Daniel glared at her. "How could you do this to me, Heather? You have shamed me, your own father! You have betrayed our faith!" He clenched his hands into tight balls; his knuckles turned white.
For the next several minutes, Heather tried vainly to reason with him; in response, he cut her off at every turn and shouted at her. "Go to your room!" he finally hollered. "We will talk about this later." Head lowered, tears streaming down her face, Heather trudged out of the living room...
Raising his head, Daniel took a deep, shuddering breath. That had been an awful day, to be sure, but not half as awful as the day she had been killed in that boiler explosion! He dropped his hands to his sides.
His vision clouded with tears; Daniel blinked his eyes to clear them. He could not afford to give into his grief, not at that moment. He had all the time in the world to think and to grieve about his daughter; just then, he had work to do. With a sigh, he began to assemble the materials. Opening a smooth tin container of nitroglycerin, he poured some of it into a vial.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Christina trudged into the room she and her husband had rented. Her husband had re-entered their hotel room just a few minutes before; he sat slumped on the queen-sized bed they shared. The mattress sagged and creaked under him as he leaned forward to acknowledge his wife. With a weary sigh, Christina set her purse on the desk, then straightened her blouse.
“No sign of Rachel?” Richard rose to his feet as he spoke. Christina shook her head. “I never found her, either. Looks as if we’re going to have to call the police!” He rubbed his hair, front to back.
Christina was frantic. What could have happened to Rachel? She had never once disappeared on them since they’d taken her in; in fact, during her early days in their home, she had been afraid to let her adoptive mother out of her sight. Her disappearance now could only mean an accident or foul play.
“Where could she be?” Christina moaned. “What if something’s happened to her?” She took a deep, shuddering breath; she pressed her left hand against the cool, unyielding surface of the bureau against the wall. She gazed at the lamp emitting its soft glow throughout the room.
Approaching his wife, Richard put a comforting arm around her. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find her.” A thin line of determination spread across his lips.
The door swung open; Ryan and Kristen trudged in, followed by Tess. Their shoes softly thudded on the carpet as they entered the room; Ryan’s back jeans pocket bulged with his cell phone. He had changed into a plain cotton shirt and a pair of jeans before joining the search for Rachel. “We haven’t found her.” Ryan rubbed his right hand on his jeans, then folded his arms across his chest. “Gonna call the police?”
“Yes.” As Richard strode toward the desk phone, Tess spoke.
“Before you do, why don’t we go downstairs and ask if anyone has seen Rachel?” Tess looked from Richard to Christina. “Or perhaps you’ve already done that.”
Chagrined, Richard shook his head. “I never even thought to do that! I only hope it’s not too late. Come on, everyone!”
Downstairs in the lobby, Christina approached the man who stood behind the reception desk. “Excuse me,” she said, “have you seen our daughter?” She showed him a picture of Rachel as she spoke.
The man gazed at the photograph, then furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, I did.” He looked past Christina toward the front entrance. “She stopped over there to tie her shoelaces as you went upstairs.” He nodded toward the side lobby entrance. “Then a gentleman went up to her and asked her to do him a favor. She followed him outside.”
Richard and Christina exchanged glances. “What did the man look like?” Richard asked.
As the man described the stranger, the Dalys looked at each other in shock. “Th--thank you,” Christina said, her voice shaking, as her husband drew her away. At the other end of the lobby, Christina covered her face and took a deep breath.
“Daniel!” Richard’s face turned beet-red. Before he could say anything more, Ryan’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and pushed the “on” button.
END OF CHAPTER 4