Out of the Dark (29 page)

At the same time, Jade’s climax grabbed Luke, pulling him under so fast that he forgot to hold on. One second he’d been riding the high. Then he fell without warning—without ropes or nets. He spilled himself in her until there was nothing left of him to give, and still he couldn’t break free.

Finally it was Jade who broke the spell. When she collapsed on his chest, her body limp and spent, he managed to roll over with her still in his arms. With his last ounce of strength, he reached down and pulled up the covers.

The peace that came afterward was a combination of silence and satisfaction. Luke was drifting between heaven and sleep when he realized Jade was crying.

“Talk to me,” he said softly.

“I never knew. All these years, and I never knew.”

“What?”

“That it didn’t have to hurt.”

He held her tighter. The words he was thinking were locked deep inside his heart. And that night, after she’d finally gone to sleep, he lay vigilant beside her, watching the shadows for the demons that had yet to be slain.

Earl Walters had a vested interest in closing the file on Jade Cochrane, and even though they had the man responsible for murdering Raphael, as well as the nurse and the Tyler woman, Earl knew he was just the gun. They wanted to know who’d aimed it.

He picked up the phone and put a call in to the captain of the homicide division.

“Charlie…it’s Earl. Bring me up to speed on what we know about the Newton case.”

Charlie Black reached for a file, then flipped it open as he leaned back in his chair.

“Myers is lead on this, so his file is probably more complete than what I have here, although we just finished an update. Newton came out of surgery around eleven last night. He’s in critical care but expected to make a full recovery. He’s not a happy camper, though. Seems he’s real indignant about his last victim. That Raphael fellow had AIDS. Mr. Newton would like to complain that his rights have been violated, but he can’t figure out how to make it work, considering the fact that he did go into an isolation ward without permission and off the two people in Room 342. He’s trying to make a case that someone should have ‘told’ him ahead of time that the guy he killed had AIDS. Now he’s almost certainly been infected, and he’s scared shitless.”

Earl chuckled. “Feels pretty good when the perp gets a dose of his own medicine, doesn’t it?”

“And then some,” Charlie said. “Myers said there wasn’t anything in Newton’s suitcase that would lead them in the direction of who’d hired him. However, someone happened to mention in the meeting this morning that since he was taken straight from the scene to E.R., we never had the chance to go through his clothes. So Myers and his partner are on their way to the hospital as we speak to take the clothing into evidence.”

“Let me know what you find,” Earl said. “I’ve got a personal interest in seeing this whole ugly thing resolved. Oh, one other thing…those drawings I gave you…the ones that Miss Cochrane drew of the men who’d molested her…what’s happening there?”

“We turned them over to Vice. Last I heard, they were running them through some national database, trying to match up the drawings with the mug shots of known molesters, but it’s gonna be tough. As I understand it, the drawings are the way the men looked fifteen to twenty years ago. Most of the mug shots will be more recent. It’s gonna be difficult to get matches. And even if we did, we’d need proof besides her word against his…and, we’re looking at different laws in different states. For some of them, the time has lapsed for charges to be filed.”

“Yeah,” Earl said; then he spun his swivel chair toward the window, squinting against the daylight. “You know…that damned bunch of newshounds has been plaguing us and the Cochranes ever since this mess came to light.”

Charlie frowned. “Yes, but don’t they always?”

“You also know it seems like someone’s always leaking info that we don’t want told. I’d hate to think what might happen if those drawings ever fell into the wrong hands.
We
might never be able to identify them, but I’ll bet there are some people out there across the nation who could. Before they started fucking children, they were someone’s sons and brothers and friends. Now, if they’re still alive and they’re not in jail, they’re probably someone’s husbands and fathers and bosses. It would be a crying shame if someone accidentally knocked over the rocks they’ve been hiding under.”

Charlie started to smile.

“It would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Of course, we can’t do that. Infringing on civil rights without proof, or something like that.”

“Yeah…civil rights,” Earl echoed, then turned his back to the window. “Keep me posted on what Myers and his partner find out.”

“Will do,” Charlie said.

Larry Myers had been a homicide detective for eight years. Before that, he’d been a uniformed street cop. He’d seen his share of neglected and abused children, but what he’d learned about Sam Cochrane’s daughter made him sick. He’d seen her twice in public. Once going into the morgue. Once coming out. It was his personal opinion that there should come a time in one’s life when your dues got paid in full—when the crap that comes with everyday living has come and gone and what’s left of your life is pure gravy. Except, of course, for the day that you die. That was something that comes to everyone. If ever a person deserved some happiness, it was Jade Cochrane. And he wanted to find the person who’d put out the hit more than he’d ever wanted to do anything in his life. Because of that, he had been saying prayers all the way to the hospital that they would get the break they’d been waiting on. If there was nothing in the clothes, maybe Newton would be ready to talk. Maybe he would give up the man who’d hired him. And maybe hell would freeze over before dark.

Myers flashed his badge at the nurses’ station. “We’ve come to pick up Johnny Newton’s personal belongings,” he said.

A few minutes later, a nurse came back with a plastic sack full of bloody clothes, a pair of equally bloody shoes, and a cell phone and watch. Myers put on latex gloves and grunted to himself as he sorted through the lot. If they were lucky, Newton might have some numbers stored in the cell phone’s memory that would take them in the right direction. He dug through the pockets, counting out a dollar and forty-three cents in change. There were several hundred dollars in his wallet, no credit cards, and a fake driver’s license. There was nothing in there that would give away his true identity, but that didn’t matter. They knew who he was, just not who’d sent him here.

“Hey, Bradley, you go through the pants and shirt pockets,” Myers said.

Wearing a pair of surgical gloves, Harry Bradley searched Newton’s pockets with careful precision. He didn’t want to make contact with any of the contaminated blood any more than Newton had.

“Whatcha’ got?” Myers asked.

“An unused toothpick, still encased in the cellophane. A half a pack of sugarless chewing gum. A receipt for gas…and some trash. Wait. There’s a name and phone number on the back of this one.”

Myers’ interest was piqued. “What’s it say?”

“It ain’t talkin’,” Bradley drawled.

Myers frowned. “Damn it, Harry, you know what I mean. Whose name and number is on the paper?”

Harry Bradley grinned, then turned his attention to the paper.

“The name is Frank Lawson. Ever hear of him?”

Myers thought for a minute, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. What’s the number?”

Bradley repeated it.

Myers’ frown increased. “That’s a Tennessee area code.”

“How do you know something like that?” Bradley asked.

“I have an aunt and uncle who live outside of Nashville. Same area code.”

“I’ll be damned,” Bradley muttered. “Wonder what that could mean?”

“I need to make a couple of calls,” Myers said.

“To who?” Bradley asked.

“First call is to Nashville. Think I’ll give the chief a little call. See what he can tell us.”

He got information, and within a minute or so was being connected to Nashville’s chief of police.

“Chief Randall, my name is Larry Myers. I’m a homicide detective with the St. Louis P.D.”

“Hello, Detective. Is old Earl still behind the desk over there?”

“Yes, sir, that he is.”

“So, what can I do for you?”

Myers quickly explained the situation about the murders and taking Newton down.

“Good work,” Randall said. “We’ve been hearing about that on the news. Nasty piece of business.”

“Yes, sir, and that’s why I’m calling. We found a name and a phone number in the pocket of the man we took into custody yesterday. I was wondering if it might ring a bell.”

“What’s the name?” Randall asked.

“Frank Lawson.”

The congenial smile on Chief Randall’s face disappeared as his feet hit the floor.

“Big Frank?”

Myers frowned. “I don’t know who that is. All we have is Frank Lawson and then a phone number. It’s within the Nashville area code is why I called.”

“Hell yes, I know him. He’s running for governor.”

Myers’ heart rate accelerated as his body went still.

“He’s what?”

“Big Frank is quite a popular guy. It’s common knowledge that he’s pretty much a shoo-in come election day.”

“What do you know about his past?” Myers asked.

Randall frowned. “There was talk that he lived pretty rough in his younger days, but he’s been a household name for years. A few years back, he single-handedly saved a woman and her kids from a killer. Took the shooter down by himself and then called 911. He’s pretty much a hero around here.”

“Well, my instincts tell me there’s a good chance that your hero might have some big flaws. Do you know where Lawson is?”

“At this moment?” Randall asked.

“Yes, sir…at this moment.”

“I’d hazard a guess that if he’s not home, he’s on the road campaigning.”

“Want to do me a favor?” Myers asked.

“Always happy to help a fellow officer in a murder investigation.”

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t thank me yet. What is it that you need, boy?”

“I’m going to give Mr. Lawson a call, but I’d like to think I had some long-distance backup on the premises, just in case he decides to run before we can question him.”

“Give me thirty minutes,” Randall said. “I’ll find out where he is and give you a call to see if we can make this happen.”

“Yes, sir, and thank you,” Myers said, and then gave the chief the number of his cell phone.

“Let’s head back to headquarters,” Myers said. “I’m thinking the captain needs in on this.”

With only thirty minutes to spare, they jumped in their car and headed back to the station.

Charlie Black was finishing off a tuna melt when Myers and Bradley knocked on his door. He motioned them in as he wiped his mouth, then eyed the plastic bag and the bloody clothes with distaste.

“Damn, Myers, shouldn’t that be logged into evidence?”

“Sir, I think we may have found the break we’ve been looking for.”

Charlie’s disgust turned to glee, imagining how pleased Earl Walters was going to be if they broke this case.

“Tell me,” he said.

“We found a piece of paper in Newton’s pocket with a name and phone number. It’s a Tennessee phone number…the same area code as Nashville. I know because I have family in the area. Anyway, I called the chief of police, told him the name in question, and he nearly blew a fuse.”

“So who’s the guy…some country music star?”

“Better. A big shot of some kind who’s running for governor. Frank Lawson.”

“Big Frank Lawson?”

“You know him?” Myers asked.

“I know of him,” Charlie said. “Are you saying that Lawson is the man who wanted Raphael and Jade Cochrane dead?”

“Don’t know yet, but I didn’t want to call this number until we had some backup in place. Chief Randall is supposed to call back in just a few minutes. Once he’s got men posted in Lawson’s location, I thought I’d give him a ring…just to see what he has to say.”

“Good idea,” Charlie said.

A couple of minutes later, Myers’ phone rang. It was Randall.

“He’s still at his home,” the chief said. “I have three patrol cars parked in the vicinity of his house. If he decides to take an unexpected vacation, we’ll be detaining him for a few more questions. How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Myers said. “And, sir, if he gets hinky while we’re talking, my captain will let you know. You can relay the message to your patrolmen so they’ll know he’s likely to go on the run.”

“Good luck,” Randall said.

“Yes, sir,” Myers said. “Same to you.”

“Is it going down?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, sir. Now for the final touch.”

Myers took out his handkerchief and carefully picked up Newton’s phone with it, then took the paper from his partner, Bradley.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked, when Myers used Newton’s phone to call Frank Lawson.