Out of the Dark (13 page)

She was silent for a moment, then took a slow, shuddering breath. She didn’t want to think of what it might be. Neither she nor Raphael had ever done drugs, but it was impossible to forget what Solomon had done to them—or ignore the fact that some sexually transmitted diseases were not only incurable but fatal.

She slid her hand beneath his shirt, felt the curvature of his rib cage and the shocking lack of flesh that normally covered it, and stifled an urge to scream.

Not Raphael! Please, not my Raphael.

Then she made herself calm. After all the years that he’d taken care of her, returning the favor was the least she could do. She rubbed her hand up and down the middle of his back in a gentle, caressing motion.

“It’s all right, Rafie. The doctor will come, and he’ll make you okay.”

She waited for Raphael to agree. She waited, and she waited, and then she started to cry.

Raphael felt her body shaking and struggled with tears of his own. In that moment, if he’d had the energy, he would have cursed God for giving him this fate. But he didn’t, and it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. His fate had been sealed from the day he was born.

“You are going to be all right,” he said softly.

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you.”

Raphael closed his eyes, willing away a feeling of nausea.

“Go meet Velma…have something to eat. When you come back, maybe you could bring me something cold to drink.”

The thought of being able to do anything for him brought Jade to her feet.

“I won’t be long,” she said. “Maybe they’ll have some soup. Rafie…would you like some soup?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “That would be nice.”

He felt her hand on his shoulder, then felt the mattress give as she got up. He held his breath until she was gone, then rolled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom.

The phone number was burning a hole in Big Frank’s pocket as he pulled into the underground parking garage beneath his apartment complex. He rolled his considerable girth out from behind the steering wheel and then ambled toward the elevator, nodding and waving to an attendant as he passed. It never hurt to be friendly to a potential voter.

He got on the elevator with a couple who lived on the floor above him and found himself forced into an amiable conversation when all he wanted to do was punch someone’s face. When he reached his floor, he strode off with a casual “Have a nice evening” and all but bolted into his apartment before closing and locking the door. Tossing his briefcase aside, he reached for the phone number, then headed for his bedroom. Although there were phones in other parts of his home, somehow the privacy that a bedroom represented seemed appropriate.

He took off his suit coat and loosened his tie, then dropped to the side of the bed and picked up the phone. As he did, he glanced at his watch. It was six o’clock in the evening here in Tennessee, which meant it would only be four o’clock in California. He took a deep breath and then made the call. It rang only twice before a woman’s voice chirped in Frank’s ear.

“Shooting Star Productions. How may I help you?”

“I’m trying to locate a man named Otis Jacks. Is he there?”

“No, I’m sorry, but Mr. Jacks has gone home for the day. Would you like to leave a message?”

Frank’s body went limp. At least the son-of-a-bitch was still in L.A. That was a positive.

“It’s imperative that I reach him as soon as possible. How about a cell phone number?”

The receptionist hesitated. She’d only been on the job a few weeks and wasn’t certain about the protocol of giving out the boss’s cell number. Then she shrugged. It wasn’t as if she was giving out a home phone number or address. She rattled off the number to Frank.

“Thank you,” he said, and hung up, then quickly called the new number.

It rang five times, and Frank was bracing himself for a voice mail when the call was suddenly answered.

“Hello…this is Jacks.”

“You used to call yourself Solomon. What was it before that, huh, Otis?”

Otis froze. To his knowledge, no one from his past had ever found out about this phase of his life. Obviously he’d been wrong.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“Let’s just say I was one of your clients and leave it at that.”

“Listen, you son-of-a-bitch. I don’t have time to fuck with you. State your business.”

“Have you been reading the papers? Do you know about the girl…the one you called Jade?”

Otis grunted. So he wasn’t the only one nervous about that little bit of news.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Frank asked.

“Nothing,” Otis said. “I’m going to do nothing, which is exactly what I suggest that you do, whoever the hell you are.”

Big Frank’s nostrils flared. No one talked to him like that and got away with it.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t have as much to lose.”

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Otis said. “So put your dick back in your pants where it belongs and lay low. It’ll all blow over. Or you could get a nose job or something and retire to the Bahamas. Hell, don’t blame me because you’re a sick fuck.”

Frank was livid, but there wasn’t much pressure he could put on Otis without putting his own dirty secrets in jeopardy of being revealed. Still, he couldn’t resist getting in a good dig.

“I know more about you than you think,” Frank whispered. “You stole babies…You pimped kids to sick fucks like me…. So what does that make you?”

He hung up in Otis Jacks’ ear. He should have known the sorry bastard would be of no use, but he’d had to try. And since Otis hadn’t recognized Frank’s voice, Frank considered himself still in the clear. Now he had to find out if the man who was with Jade when she was found was Raphael. If he was, then Frank would make sure he couldn’t give him away.

He looked around the room, eyeing the painting on the wall. It was just a print of an original Van Gogh, but he liked the fuzzy confusion of the colors and the paranoia he saw in the brush strokes. Then he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, cursing the fact that a voluptuous woman turned him off while the flat chest and thin body of a little girl turned him on.

He lay there in the quiet, his mind turning over all the possibilities and weighing the ramifications of ignoring what he’d learned. Finally he sat up with a sigh. The truth was, there was too much at stake for him to ignore.

This time, when he picked up the phone, he had a plan.

It was eight o’clock in the morning when Otis Jacks arrived at the doctor’s office. The man was one of the most skilled plastic surgeons in Los Angeles, but more than that, for the right amount of money, he could develop a perfect case of amnesia regarding the names of certain patients. In fact, it was rumored that he had worked on people without ever putting a name on paper. It was just what Otis intended.

Today he was going to start the ball rolling on getting a new look, including a nose job, cheek implants and maybe a few nips and tucks around his eyes and beneath his jaws to remove the excesses of his lifestyle. He knew someone who would buy his film company, although he could walk away from it without a backward glance and still be a very wealthy man. To hell with kids who wouldn’t forgive and forget, and to hell with the nervous bastard who’d called him. As soon as the doctor would let him travel, he was going to be going, going, gone.

Michael Tessler had been Sam Cochrane’s personal doctor for years, but he’d never been asked to make a house call. To say he was curious would have been putting it mildly, although when Luke Kelly had called, he had readily agreed. Like everyone else in St. Louis, he knew about Sam’s daughter being found and rejoiced for Sam’s good fortune. But now, as he drove through the melee of media parked along the street, he began to see the need for the house call. There would have been no way for anyone to leave the house without starting a riot. When the news crews saw him turn up the Cochrane driveway, the cameras began to roll. He averted his face as he hurried up the walk to the house. Velma opened the door to him before he had time to knock.

“Come in, Dr. Tessler. I’ll show you to the room upstairs.”

Tessler had started up the staircase when Sam suddenly appeared at the head of the stairs.

“Michael…I really appreciate you taking the time to do this for me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Tessler said. “And congratulations on finding your daughter. Is she my patient?”

“Yes, it’s a miracle she was found,” Sam said. “But she’s not the one who’s ill. Follow me.”

Sam opened the door. Jade was sitting in a chair near Raphael’s bed. The stricken look on her face hurt his heart, but he didn’t know how to comfort a stranger who wouldn’t let him near.

“Jade, this is Dr. Tessler. He’s a marvelous doctor as well as an old friend. He’ll take good care of Raphael.”

Jade stood, her hands clutched against her belly in a defensive gesture.

“He’s asleep,” she said.

“Not anymore,” Raphael said, and rolled over to the side of the bed and sat up. “Dr. Tessler, my name is Raphael. Thank you for coming.”

Michael Tessler had seen lots of patients during his career, and at first glance, this one didn’t look so good.

“I’m happy to help,” he said, then set down his bag and took off his sports coat. Then he smiled at Sam and Jade. “If you two will excuse us now, I’d like to examine the patient.”

Jade frowned. “Oh, no, I think I should—”

“No, Jade. Go with Sam. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“I don’t want to,” she said.

“I know, but I’m asking just the same.”

Blinking away tears, Jade ducked her head and left the room, ignoring Sam’s outstretched hand.

As soon as the door was closed, Michael Tessler turned to Raphael.

“So, young man, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I have full-blown AIDS. I also have cancer of the liver, and I’m dying.”

T
he doctor was gone, but Jade had yet to go back upstairs. She’d seen him speaking to Sam, overheard him suggesting hospitalization, then shaking Sam’s hand before leaving. She’d watched the housekeeper come out of the kitchen carrying a tray and take the back stairs to the second floor. It was the soup and cold drink that she’d asked for earlier. She knew she should go up and see if Raphael needed any help, but her legs were too weak to move. So she sat on a chair in the foyer with her hands folded in her lap and waited for the strength of mind to get up.

Suddenly a shadow crossed her line of vision. She turned around and then frowned. It was Luke.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I thought I’d wait around a bit…see what the doctor told Raphael.”

“You know what’s wrong with him, don’t you?” she said.

“Don’t ask me that, Jade. Don’t ask me things I can’t answer.”

Anger brought her to her feet, but her voice was as shaky as her legs.

“I hate you for this. I hate you for coming between Raphael and me.”

She could have cut him with a knife and it wouldn’t hurt any worse than what she’d just said.

“Nobody could ever come between you and Raphael. You, above all, should know that.”

Her defiance wilted almost instantly. “Then why?” she whispered. “Why would he tell you something so personal and keep it from me?”

“Maybe because he has nothing invested in me. Sometimes it’s easier to face a stranger with bad news than someone you love.”

Bad news?
Jade’s vision blurred as she looked down at the floor, then back up at Luke.

“He’s not going to get better, is he?”

Luke wanted to hold her, to smooth that ink-black hair away from her perfect face and tell her it was going to be all right. But he couldn’t lie, and the truth wasn’t his to tell.

“You’re talking to the wrong man.”

Jade swallowed a sob, then staggered backward, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Damn you, Luke Kelly. Damn you straight to hell. We were fine until you came and messed everything up.”

Luke flinched, then fired back.

“Fine?
Fine?
What the hell was so fine that I messed up? You tell me! Was it the fact that you were stranded by a flood and sleeping in an abandoned YMCA? Yeah, that must have been a blast. Sorry I screwed up that party. Oh! I know…maybe it was the living from hand to mouth and so goddamned poor that your boyfriend didn’t want to tell you what was wrong with him because neither of you could afford the care he needed. Uh-huh…it really sucks that your father can put an end to that.”

Then he stopped. The stricken look on Jade’s face made him regret losing his temper, but at the same time, she had to face the reality of the situation.

“Damn it, Jade, I’m sorry I lost my temper, I’m sorry as hell that Raphael is not well, and I’m even sorrier that you distrust men so much that you’re blaming me for something that is obviously not my fault.”

Jade was stunned. She hadn’t expected his anger, and at the same time, she was ashamed. He was right, but she didn’t have the guts to admit it. A long moment of uncomfortable silence followed Luke’s outburst; then Raphael’s voice drifted down from upstairs.

“Jade, tell the man you’re sorry and then come up here. I want to talk to you.”

Both Luke and Jade jerked at the sound of the voice, then looked upward. Raphael was standing at the top of the staircase.

“I don’t need an apology,” Luke said shortly, nodding at Raphael. “Call me if you need me,” he said, and then walked away without looking back.

Jade was torn between the need to talk to Raphael and the knowledge that she should make it right with Luke, but he’d taken away her decision by leaving. And with Raphael waiting for her, she could not prolong their confrontation. She couldn’t remember ever saying a prayer and believing it would be answered, so she didn’t bother this time, either. Instead she looked up, focusing on the familiarity of Raphael’s face, and started up the stairs.

Down the hall, Luke stepped out of the library where he’d taken shelter and listened to Jade’s hesitant footsteps as she moved to join Raphael. His heart hurt for her in a way she would never believe. Even he was hard-pressed to understand how the woman had gotten under his skin so easily. He’d witnessed how fragile she was. It should have turned him off. Instead he’d wanted to take her in his arms and shelter her from everything ugly that was left in the world.

Luke was anything but a green, untried male, yet when he stood in her presence, he felt like a fourteen-year-old teenager without a brain. What he knew about her made him afraid he would offend her even more than he already had, but he couldn’t seem to stay away. So he walked to the foot of the stairs and waited, listening for what he knew would be the death knell of her small, fragile world. The silence lengthened, and the only thing Luke heard was the solid, steady beat of his heart.

And then a sound sliced through the silence—a high-pitched, keening wail that made the hair stand up on the back of Luke’s neck. He closed his eyes, letting the pain in the sound filter through him until he thought he was the one who might die.

She knew. God in heaven, now she knew.

He turned away from the staircase and stumbled toward the library, swallowing past a knot in the back of his throat. The way he felt right now, he was in no shape to drive.

“Luke?”

Sam was standing in the hall.

“I need to use your phone to call a cab,” Luke said.

“I’ll drive you,” Sam said.

Luke shook his head. “No. You heard her, what the news did to her. You need to stay here.”

Sam sighed. “She doesn’t want me. You know that.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Luke said. “So go show her what she’s been missing all these years.”

Sam’s voice cracked, and for the first time, he looked all of his sixty years.

“Dear God, Luke…I want to, but I don’t know how. Damn it…I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening. Your daughter is going to lose her best and only friend. Raphael is dying. Now go up those stairs, walk into that room, and help both of them grieve for what they’re about to lose. From what they’ve told me, neither one of them remembers having a father. Go show them what it means before it’s too late.”

“Lord help me,” Sam whispered.

“He will,” Luke said. “Now go.”

Sam straightened his shoulders and headed for the stairs, leaving Luke to call the cab and make his own way home.

Late that same night, Jade lay curled up beside Raphael, holding him close as he usually held her. His sleep was restless. She now knew it was from pain. The cancer was eating him alive from the inside out, and according to the doctor, was directly related to the fact that he had full-blown AIDS. Jade didn’t know exactly what that meant, other than that he was dying, and didn’t care. What mattered to her was that Raphael had known of his condition for more than a year without telling her. And, up until they’d left San Francisco, he had been getting pain medication from a free health clinic. She kept thinking about what he must have felt when she’d announced they needed to move. Had he been afraid? Had he known that it was already the beginning of the end? If only he’d told her then. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. The hard thing to accept was that it wouldn’t have mattered.

Jade shifted a little closer, needing to hear the inhale and exhale of his breath to assure herself that he was still here. They were admitting him to the hospital tomorrow, to a ward for HIV patients only. The injustice of that alone was enough to make her furious. Even in death, he was being separated from society, just as he had been in life.

Raphael moaned. Jade rose up on one elbow, checking to see if he was awake and needing medicine. He was still asleep, though, and she wasn’t going to wake him up just to give him something to help him sleep. She pulled the covers up around their shoulders, then inhaled softly, savoring the clean, fresh scent of the soft cotton sheets.

It was there, in the quiet of the darkened room, that she finally admitted what a blessing Luke Kelly had been. Were it not for his persistence on behalf of Sam Cochrane, she and Raphael would probably still be at the mercy of the Louisiana flood waters and depending upon the help of the Red Cross. He would be sick and suffering. She stifled a sob. She didn’t want him to hurt. She didn’t want him to die. But she wasn’t going to get what she wanted.

The strange thing was, Raphael seemed at peace. Once he’d told her the truth, it was as if a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders. He kept telling her how lucky they were that her father had found them, and that he could tell Sam Cochrane was a good man. He had scolded her for fighting with Luke Kelly, warning her not to make an enemy of a man who wanted to be her friend.

Jade hadn’t argued with him, but she wasn’t going to agree until the men had proved themselves worthy of her trust. She closed her eyes just to give them a rest and, despite her best efforts to the contrary, finally fell asleep.

Luke lay on his back with his hands pillowed under his head, replaying the events of the past few days in his head. The earth had shifted beneath his feet the day he’d seen Jade Cochrane face to face, and he hadn’t been the same since. He was angry with himself for dwelling on a woman who so obviously hated his guts and wished that he could turn off the growing feelings in his heart. But he knew himself well enough to know that what was happening to him was out of his control. Despite the fact that he’d been warned, he was falling in love with a woman who was deathly afraid of men. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. With a groan, he rolled over on his belly, punched his pillow a couple of times to rearrange the feathers, then resettled into a different spot on the bed. He needed to sleep and to forget, but he didn’t think he was going to get what he needed—at least not tonight.

Frank Lawson had spent all night mapping out a plan. By daylight the next morning, he’d set it in motion. There was a man he knew from the old days—a three-time loser who would kill his own mother just for the chance to watch her bleed. He was a crazy bastard, with a hard-on for violence. Add a bundle of money to the pot and he was relentless. His name was Johnny Newton, and he was already on his way to St. Louis to find out if Raphael was the man with Jade Cochrane. If he was, his orders were to kill them both.

The plan was a good one. The way Frank figured it, it couldn’t fail. No one would ever suspect that their lives would be in danger, so no one would be watching their tails. And Johnny Newton had a phobia when it came to being jailed again, so even if he was caught in the act, he would choose death before he would let himself be incarcerated again. Now all Frank had to do was wait for the next news flash announcing the tragedy to the world.

He smiled at himself in the mirror as he finished his shave. Damned if he wasn’t about the smartest son-of-a-bitch walking. He almost wished he could tell the world just so it would be known how really smart he was. Once all of the clutter of his past was swept away, he could concentrate on the governor’s race.

He leaned over the sink, peering closely at his image in the steam-shrouded mirror, then thumbed away a tiny droplet of blood just below his chin.

“Drew a little blood myself,” he said, and then chuckled at his own wit, slapped aftershave lotion on his face and cursed the burn.

Johnny Newton’s daddy always told him that he wouldn’t amount to a damn thing. Johnny had reminded him of that right before he’d slipped the rope around the old man’s neck and hanged him. Of course, everyone in town had assumed that Arnold Newton had committed suicide after having filed bankruptcy. Johnny had stayed long enough to play the grieving son, then lit out for Washington, D.C. It had taken him exactly six months to establish himself as a man who would do anything for money.

Fifteen years later, his fee had gone up, but it was getting harder and harder to get any kind of joy out of the work. Every new job was just an echo of the last. He wanted some diversion in his work and was determined to make this job a landmark.

He’d been in Denver when he’d gotten the call. Once the priorities had been dealt with, which included wiring a fee of one hundred thousand dollars into one of Johnny’s special accounts, he’d begun to pack. Later, he’d replayed what he knew as he boarded the plane. He knew the target’s name and basic location. The target, a man named Raphael, was associated with some prodigal daughter thing that the news had picked up on, which meant that when he snuffed this guy and then the woman, it was going to be news again, which meant he needed to have a solid way in and a solid way out. He was going to take a couple of days to scope out the location, figure out the best way to do the job, and, as always, make sure he had a Plan B that was as workable as Plan A.

Within a half hour, his flight would be landing in St. Louis. All he had to do was catch a cab and get a room at some out of the way motel, pay cash and disappear into the proverbial woodwork.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent into the St. Louis airport. Please turn off all electronic equipment, return your trays and seats to their upright positions, and buckle your seat belts.”