The Esther Code Read online

  That explains the use of the name Simon W.

  She searches for the name. Apparently, Simon Wiesenthal was a Holocaust survivor who became famous as a Nazi hunter after the war. He died in 2005. His whole life, he worked to bring justice to war criminals. He had many notable successes. There is nothing to suggest that he ever promoted outright vengeance. The Simon Wiesenthal Center is a U.S.-based organization that fights for social justice and promotes Holocaust education. As she gathers more and more information, Jamie becomes convinced she is dealing with an individual. She cannot imagine any of the organizations she finds turning to outright murder as a means of justice. She especially does not think they would use Simon W. as a cover, thereby smearing the name of the most respected Nazi hunter.

  This is an individual who, in a distorted way, considers himself to be the next Simon Wiesenthal.

  The leaving of a note also points to an individual. She has thought that from the beginning. All of the cases are too uniform to consider this is a small band of vigilantes.

  Leaning back in her chair, Jamie sighs. But what is the Purim connection? Why leave notes with names from the book of Esther? And do those facts really point to the killer being Jewish? It could be a Jewish sympathizer. And, to add to the mix, what do the initials on the notes mean?

  Her cell phone buzzes, interrupting Jamie’s thoughts. She retrieves her phone off the desk and spares a glance for the text. It is from Chris. He just finished a really unusual case at work and promises to call her and tell her, after he gets the post-op orders done and does the surgical dictation.

  “Great! I can’t wait,” Jamie says sarcastically to the empty office, rolling her eyes.

  What do the book of Esther and the sons of Haman have to do with anything? I need a rabbi.

  Her phone rings. Jamie hits her Bluetooth. “Hello?”

  “Hey, guess what? I just finished a case involving necrotizing fasciitis,” Chris blurts excitedly.

  “That is...?” Jamie pauses, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

  “Oh, it’s a flesh-eating bacteria. Get this, the guy’s been getting ninety percent of his calories from beer. While at work one day, he accidentally drives a construction staple into the palm of his hand. It left some nice puncture wounds right below his middle finger. He does not get it cleaned out properly and throws a Band-Aid on it. Now, a week later, the bacteria has tracked via the fascia about three-fourths of the way up his arm. His arm is hideously swollen, red, and hot to the touch,” Chris continues rapidly.

  “Ew! Gross.”

  “The hand surgeon and I filleted his entire hand and arm, from the base of his middle finger, all the way to under his armpit. There were whole sections of tendons and parts of muscle bellies that were completely dead. We debrided everything and left the wound open. He will be coming back multiple times for us to clean it out and remove any dead tissue,” Chris delineates.

  “Wait, so is it really flesh-eating?”

  “Not actually. Flesh-eating bacteria do not eat human flesh, but they release toxins that kill human tissue. We are actually hoping to save his arm. It will take several wash-outs and high-dose antibiotics. The hope is that this first surgery will stop it from spreading up the arm.”

  “Ouch.”

  There is a long pause in the conversation.

  “How’s work going for you?” Chris inquires, almost as an afterthought.

  “Oy, this case is becoming bigger every day. I can’t believe how many places I’ve traveled to in the last week or so. Fredericks is really going to be on my back, and there is no letup in sight,” Jamie confesses, feeling the strain in her body. She rubs her neck, feeling the tight muscles and the knots in her shoulders.

  “So when can I sleep over again?” Chris asks. Jamie hears the doubt in his voice.

  Great, he just wants to sleep with me again. This whole relationship is nothing but sex anymore.

  Jamie replies, “Uh, probably not anytime soon, with this case.”

  “Right,” Chris replies, some resentment in his voice. “Well, you can take a break sometime, right? When you do, call me.”

  “Just like you squeeze me in between your cases,” Jamie retorts, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.

  In the background on Chris’s end, Jamie can hear some commotion. “I’ve gotta go,” he says, then immediately hangs up.

  “Later,” Jamie bitterly tells no one. She clenches and unclenches her jaw. It is hardly fair that he should be pissed about her having to work. She always plans around his schedule, and, now that she needs him to be flexible, he is acting like a spoiled brat. Before Jamie can fester any further over Chris, her phone rings again.

  “Hello?” Jamie spits, unable to hide her irritation.

  “Whoa! You alright, Jamie?” Even though he sounds taken aback, Seth’s voice is warm.

  “Oh, I’ll tell you later,” Jamie mutters with a sigh, relaxing a bit.

  “So what time are you working ‘til?”

  “Not much longer, I’m about spent.”

  “How’d your presentation go?”

  “As well as could be expected. I laid out everything that we know this morning and then we had a press conference. Now the whole world knows about this insane case, and everyone is looking to me to solve it.”

  “Sounds stressful. How about I bring you by some takeout when I get off of work, so you can have one less thing to worry about tonight,” Seth offers kindly. “I won’t stay long, I promise.”

  “That would be great,” Jamie accepts.

  “I’ve got something to tell you as well,” Seth hints, but Jamie’s head is already back in her work.

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  As she focuses back on the case, Jamie is bothered by one piece of evidence—the footprints. Why would the killer leave obvious tread marks? It appears he had time to clean up after himself, since the body was not found for several hours. All of the other cases had no such evidence. Of course, none of the other victims had such pristine carpet that had also been recently vacuumed. Jamie starts to wonder if this is the break she has been looking for in the case. Maybe, for once, the killer made a mistake. Criminals have been caught before with as little as a good footprint, especially since Forensics said he has an identifiable weight bearing.

  Once at her apartment, Jamie thinks that, after her stressful day, she needs nothing more than to unwind and get comfortable. She takes a long, hot bath, then puts on a loose black tank top and a pair of comfortable, green pajama shorts. She wanders to the kitchen and makes some tea.

  Sitting on her couch with her tablet and her tea, Jamie begins her search for a rabbi. Her first order of business is to look online for nearby synagogues. To her surprise, she discovers that there are a lot of them close to her. Jamie looks over a few of their websites, to see if any strike her as the best to call. Nothing stands out, so Jamie decides to email several of them.

  Should she say she is a special agent for the FBI? Disclosing that fact might also get her paired up with someone who is only interested in the FBI angle, and who is not interested in her questions. It is safer to not to divulge that information, Jamie thinks, until she knows if it will help.

  She begins typing her email.

  Hi,

  My name is Jamie Golding, and I would like to set up an appointment to meet and discuss some matters of Jewish significance. I am specifically interested in the book of Esther, Purim, and how those things relate to the Holocaust. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.

  Thanks,

  Jamie Golding

  703-555-7662

  To save time, Jamie cuts and pastes her email, sending it out to as many rabbis as she can. She figures she will meet with whoever responds first. Rabbis are probably pretty busy, and they may not have time for a non-congregant. Either way, she has to try.

  While she has her account pulled up, Jamie tries to catch up on personal emails that came in while she was gone. It never ceases to amaze her
that she can receive so many emails in such a short time. After reading a few of them and deleting the junk, Jamie notices that she already has a response. That is much quicker than she had expected. She eagerly opens the email and scans it.

  Dear Jamie,

  There have been many attempts of late to link the ancient Purim story with the recent Holocaust. The connection is supposedly through mysterious hidden codes and coincidences within the book of Esther. This is nothing more than science fiction. If you would like to learn more about each one individually, I recommend going to the library and getting books on each subject separately.

  Please drop in on a Shabbat so I can meet you.

  Sincerely,

  Rabbi Judy Lankowitz

  That is a bizarre response. Many attempts to link the Purim story and the Holocaust. What? Regardless of what it means, this rabbi does not seem to have any time for her. I am definitely not going on a Saturday. When could I speak to her then, with a bunch of people at services?

  She checks her email again, hoping to hear from another rabbi.

  A knock at the door heralds Seth’s arrival. She opens the door to find him standing in the hallway, two take-out boxes in one hand and a jug of 100% white grape juice in the other. His black hair is messy in an attractive way, Jamie notes. He is still wearing his work attire, along with his quirky, lovable smile. “Hungry?” He asks, holding up the takeout boxes.

  Seth can see that all of the traveling and late nights on the job are wearing on Jamie. Her eyes are droopy from lack of sleep and look bruised underneath. Her straight black hair is pulled up and held in place by a single pencil. Some strands of hair have escaped the updo, and now fall about her face. The effect is flattering. But what really catch Seth’s attention are Jamie’s long, slender legs and low top.

  “Very,” Jamie answers, opening the door and extending her arm. The motion knocks the shirt strap off her shoulder, revealing an inch more cleavage.

  Seth tries valiantly to keep his mind on the conversation, striding past Jamie and to the kitchen, saying “Good, I hope you’re in the mood for a veggie burger with French fries. And, yes, ‘veggie’ means ‘tofu’,” he teases her playfully.

  “Please tell me that’s for you,” Jamie quips with a grimace, following Seth into the kitchen.

  He laughs. “Okay, that’s mine. I got you your favorite. Curried orange chicken salad.” Seth opens one of the takeout boxes and shows her the contents.

  “Yes!” Jamie exclaims. She takes the box out of his hands and grabs a fork from the kitchen drawer. She does not wait for Seth, but starts eating. She had hardly noticed her hunger until the smell of the food overtook her.

  “Are you going to eat? Or is this all for me?” Jamie jests, pointing her fork to the other takeout box.

  “I’m getting there. You want some?” Seth inquires, holding up the jug.

  “Yes, please...I love white grape juice.”

  Seth pours two glasses of juice. He opens his own box, revealing chicken salad without cheese, and begins to eat.

  Jamie bursts out in actual laughter. “You’re such a tease!”

  “Tofu is amazing, but I prefer a chicken salad.” He gets himself a fork and starts eating slowly. He directs his full attention to Jamie. “So how were all of your trips?”

  “Pretty worthless. Except for Atlanta,” Jamie states baldly, then takes another bite of lettuce and tomato.

  “What’s in Atlanta? I thought your last stop was in Michigan or something.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t believe this, but while I was out visiting all the crime scenes, the perp struck again.” Jamie shares excitedly, leaving her fork in the salad.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I cut my trip to Flint short and headed out to Atlanta as soon as I could,” Jamie tells him enthusiastically. “Nothing is better than having a fresh crime scene to investigate.”

  “That’s wonderful!…Well, I mean, not for the victim, but awesome for you,” Seth amends with an awkward grin.

  “So how’s it going with you?” Jamie asks, moving the subject away from her case.

  “It’s going okay. I broke things off with Margie. It wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “Oh man, sorry to hear that. I’m sure it’s for the best, but it still sucks.”

  “Eh. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll have to start keeping my eyes out for another girl for you.”

  My eyes are working just fine. It’s you who can’t see what I see.

  “I’m hopefully going to be meeting with a rabbi soon. Maybe I can ask him if he knows anyone.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “Hey, I’m kidding. You know I would never do a thing like that!”

  “Maybe ask him what he thinks about you dating Chris!” A joking simper accompanies this statement.

  “Very funny.” Jamie rolls her eyes. “But touché. Point well-made.”

  Seth throws his empty takeout box in the trash and puts Jamie’s leftovers in the fridge, along with the juice. Retrieving his own glass of juice, Seth joins Jamie where she has retired to the couch. She is sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest. He sits as close as he dares. As usual, Jamie does not seem to notice.

  “You’re more helpful than Chris today. I couldn’t believe his snide remark to me,” Jamie blurts angrily, remembering the conversation.

  “What did he say?”

  “About how I am not available when he has time off,” Jamie recounts, venting the bitterness she had felt earlier.

  “Wow, that’s uncalled for.”

  “I know, really! I have always worked around his schedule, and suddenly, when I am busy at work, I’m never available to him.”

  “It’s not like you are flying around the country that often,” Seth points out sympathetically.

  “Exactly. For once I have a hard case to work on, but if I’m not around for Chris when he has time for me, then I’m selfish?” She stands up from the couch and starts pacing the floor.

  Seth stares surreptitiously as the muscles in her legs flex and relax. “I hardly think you are selfish,” he says encouragingly, making every effort to focus on Jamie’s problem, and not on her body.

  “I know. You’d think it would be my turn to be busy and for him to be understanding, like I always am for him. I don’t know. I’m really starting to doubt this relationship. I’m starting to see how one-sided it is—how one-sided it has always been,” she fumes, still pacing the floor.

  “You’ve got a point there. In a relationship, both parties have to give it their all; otherwise it won’t work. That’s why I broke it off with Margie. And I think maybe Chris is asking a little too much of you,” Seth adds reasonably, watching Jamie’s face for a reaction.

  “It’s so true! I have given plenty, and he’s still not satisfied.” Jamie is almost shouting. At this moment, she realizes she is overwrought. She stops pacing and breathes slowly for a couple of seconds, trying not to let herself lose control.

  “Sorry, I got lost there for a moment,” Jamie apologizes. “I just want things to be different with Chris, but whatever. I’ll give him some time to think about it, or even talk this over with him.”

  “Just wait until you cool off a bit before approaching him. It’s better to be calm then to be angry and say words you can never take back again,” Seth advises her cautiously.

  “You’re right,” Jamie sighs again, plopping on the couch right next to Seth. It feels good to be close to him. She turns to look him full in the face. “I really do appreciate you Seth. You have always been there for me, no matter what.…” Her heart seems to be beating slightly faster. His face is so close to hers that she can see the flecks in his eyes. Jamie feels an electric thrill pulse in her veins.

  Jamie is so close to Seth that her soft skin brushes his own. Her hazel eyes, staring straight into his own, make Seth’s heart skip a beat. He slowly moves in to put his arm around her, his lips coming closer to hers. Seth notices that Jamie is also leaning in, read
y to receive him.

  This is it.

  A ringing breaks the moment. Jamie looks down and answers her phone, her mind still swirling with anticipation and thrill.

  “H-hello,” she stutters.

  “Hello, is this Jamie Golding?” a gentle male voice asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, this is Rabbi Daniel Silverman. I received your email today and wanted to arrange a meeting, with me or with one of the other kollel rabbis, either tomorrow or another day this week. Will that work for you?” the man explains respectfully.

  “Tomorrow would be fine. What time?” Jamie asks, shaking her head clear.

  “I actually have some time around one tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Perfect. Where are you located?” Jamie stands up. She retrieves a pencil and notepad from the kitchen. Rabbi Silverman gives her the address—a synagogue not far from D.C. “Thanks, I look forward to the meeting.”

  “No problem. I hope we can find what you are searching for,” Rabbi Silverman replies sincerely.

  “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jamie hangs up the phone. She is standing at the kitchen counter with the paper in front of her.

  “Hey, Seth, do you know what a kollel is?” Jamie calls as she returns to the living room.

  “Nope, never heard of it,” Seth tells her with a shrug. “Why? What is it?”

  “No idea. I’m just going to meet with one tomorrow,” Jamie informs him, sitting on the couch again. This time she puts a cautious distance between them.

  “Well, I better be going,” Seth announces, noticing her distance.

  “You’ve got some work to do tonight?” A part of her does not want him to leave.

  “We’ve been overwhelmed lately, so I’m trying to do some damage control,” Seth expounds with a look of distaste. “The worst part is that I have to check up on Shap; he was behind again on some reports. I’m worried about him. I can’t let him slack off just because we are friends. It’s just a hard dynamic.”

  “I meant to call him, but I haven’t had the time. Tell him I said to shape up! Not really, though.” She pauses and looks at Seth wistfully. “Thanks again for dinner, and for your help. I really appreciate it.”