Out of the Dark (5 page)

“Take somebody else,” she begged.

“I can’t,” he said softly, and kissed the tousle of curls on the top of her head. “He wants you, baby girl. They all want you. You know you’re special, don’t you, baby Jade?”

“I don’t want to be special,” she whispered.

“But you are,” Solomon said, and then opened the door.

Immediately, Jade closed her eyes as Solomon carried her across the room. She felt the silken fabric of the sheets as he laid her on the bed. She heard the murmur of men’s voices, then the sound of a lock turning in the door.

She held her breath as footsteps crossed the room, then stopped near where she was lying.

He touched her face, then her arms, then her legs, then tugged her nightgown over her head and put his hand between her legs.

“Open your eyes, honey. Look what I have for you to play with.”

Jade woke up with a gasp; her body was shaking, her face covered in sweat. Raphael was not in his seat. She stood up with a jerk and stumbled into the aisle. The woman in the seat behind her looked up, frowning slightly as Jade pointed to Raphael’s empty seat.

“Where did he go?”

“If you mean your boyfriend, he’s in the john.”

Jade looked toward the back of the bus and the closed bathroom door and then started to relax.

“Okay…yes, sure…the bathroom. Uh…thank you,” she added, and sat back down in her seat.

A few minutes later Raphael came out of the bathroom with a wet paper towel in his hands. He staggered to his seat and then sat down with a thump.

Jade’s relief at seeing him turned to concern when she realized he was pale and shaking.

“Rafie…are you all right? What’s wrong?”

He reached over and patted her hand, then leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

“Nothing, honey, just a little case of motion sickness.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think to pack anything for that.”

“It’s all right,” he mumbled. “I took something while I was in the bathroom. Maybe it will help.”

Jade frowned. She wasn’t aware of them having anything resembling medicine.

“What did you take?”

“I had some stuff in my shaving kit. I’ll be okay in a bit. I just need to rest.”

Jade frowned, but acknowledged his need for quiet by stifling her other questions. She took the handful of wet paper towels from him, folded them into a compress and then laid them across Raphael’s eyes.

Raphael’s lips curved upward into a gentle smile. He patted Jade’s hands, then reclined his seat and pretended to sleep. But his thoughts were troubled. It wasn’t motion sickness, and he knew it. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to hide his illness from Jade. He kept thinking of that woman in San Francisco who’d purchased the painting of Ivy and the fact that she’d known Margaret Cochrane was from St. Louis. As soon as they got settled in New Orleans, he was going to do a little investigating of his own. Jade always said she couldn’t remember anything of her life before, but maybe if he asked her just right, something would click. Especially since they had the name Margaret Cochrane for reference. Maybe he could get online at one of those Internet coffee shops and check out the phone listings for St. Louis, Missouri. If Jade really had been from St. Louis and her last name was Cochrane, then there was the possibility that she might still have family living in the area.

He took a deep breath, willing the nausea in his belly to settle. He needed a miracle, and he needed it fast.

Two days had passed since Luke had taken the painting to the crime lab, and he was just about to give them a call to see if they’d gotten a hit when he got a phone call from his friend, the detective.

Almost at the same time, Shelly Hudson was seated in her living room, going through a packet of photos that her friend, Deb, had just sent her from their day at the street fair. Shelly had called Deb the same day she and Luke had lunch together, but Deb had been as lost as Shelly when it came to remembering any names. However, she’d mentioned the photos and promised to send copies. Shelly hadn’t mentioned them to Luke, since there was no guarantee that they would be any use to him, but these were wonderful. There was even a close-up of the artist herself, talking one-on-one to Shelly.

Shelly stared intently at the photo, once again struck by the woman’s beauty. Then a tiny bell rang in the back of the house, and she realized the timer on her stove had gone off. She laid down the photos and went to get her muffins out of the oven.

As Shelly was tending to kitchen duties, Luke was hurrying to answer his phone.

“Hello.”

“Kelly, this is Marsh. We got a hit on your fingerprint.”

“I had a feeling the artist might be a fly-by-night kind of painter. What kind of rap sheet does she have?”

There was a moment of silence; then Luke heard papers shuffling.

“Marsh?”

“Where did you say you got this painting?” the detective asked.

“San Francisco. Why?”

“Can you meet me at Sam Cochrane’s home in about thirty minutes?” he asked.

“Yes, but why? Sam hired me to find the artist. Whatever you need to tell Sam, you can tell me first. I’ll pass on the information.”

“Look, Kelly, in good conscience, I can’t really do that, because in effect, we were looking for her first.”

Luke frowned. “I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

“This fingerprint belongs to his daughter, Jade.”

Luke stifled a gasp. “Holy…Are you sure?”

“You know the drill. Fingerprints don’t lie.”

“Oh man, this is going to knock Sam off his feet.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured, which is why I was wondering if you’d mind being there when we tell him. I know you two are pretty good friends.”

“I’m on my way,” Luke said. “Don’t announce yourself until I get there.”

Luke’s hands were shaking when he hung up the phone; then he turned and stared at the painting he had leaned against the wall. He picked it up, grabbing his car keys on the way out the door. His heart was pounding, his thoughts in a whirl. All this time without a word of his family and now this. It was almost too good to be true.

He was stopped at a light when his cell phone rang. He answered quickly, thinking it might be Marsh.

“Kelly,” he said shortly, then realized it was Shelly.

“Luke, I have something you need to see,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Photos. My friend Deb got some great photos of both the man and the woman from the street fair.”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat. “Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m home.”

“Can you meet me at Sam’s?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“Just do it, Shelly, and hurry, okay?”

“Luke, you’re scaring me. Is anything wrong?”

Luke started to grin. “On the contrary, Shelly. Everything is right…very, very, right.”

He disconnected just as the light turned green and shot through the intersection. A few minutes later he was at Sam’s. Detective Marsh pulled up the driveway, parking directly behind Luke’s car.

Luke got out, then reached back into the car to retrieve Sam’s painting.

“Hell of a deal, isn’t it?” Marsh said.

“I can hardly believe it,” Luke said, then glanced toward the house. “Maybe we should have called. Sam might not be home.”

“He’s home and expecting us,” Marsh said.

“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“No, but he’s plenty curious.”

“I can only imagine,” Luke muttered, and then rang the bell.

As he did, another car pulled up in front of the house. It was Shelly.

She got out on the run, carrying a manila envelope clutched close to her chest. Sam opened the door as she reached the front step. He’d been expecting the detective, but not Luke and Shelly.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Shelly said. “I was asked to meet Luke here.”

Luke glanced at Marsh, then handed Sam the painting that he’d borrowed.

“Just let us in and we’ll tell you what we know.”

Sam took the painting, then stepped aside to let them enter.

“When is Velma coming back to work?” Shelly asked, as they followed Sam back to the library.

“Tomorrow,” Sam said, as he hung the painting of Margaret back on the wall. Then he turned around. His expression was grim as he faced the trio. “Somebody start talking.”

“We got a hit on the fingerprint,” Marsh said.

Sam’s expression didn’t change. “That’s great, but Luke could have told me that. Didn’t he tell you that I hired him to find the artist?”

“Yes, sir,” Marsh said, “but you don’t understand. The identification of the artist turned out to be a clue in one of our cold case files.”

Sam grimaced. “Are you telling me that the artist is a criminal?”

“No, sir,” Marsh said. “A missing person.”

Sam shrugged, then sighed. “Oh, well, I certainly don’t begrudge that. Some family’s life will take a change for the better.” Then he looked at Luke. “So who are we looking for?”

“Your daughter.”

Sam’s expression froze. He staggered slightly, then steadied himself on the sideboard behind him. Luke took him by the arm.

“Come on, my friend. Let’s sit down, okay?”

Sam let himself be led to a nearby chair. Shelly followed and sat down, too. She stared at the men, then laid the envelope in her lap and started to cry.

“Are you telling me that the woman I talked to was Jade?”

“If she is the one who put the thumbprint on the painting, then, yes,” Marsh said.

“I was such a fool. If only I’d asked about Margaret’s daughter.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, then leaned back in the chair, unable to grasp all she’d been told. “What I don’t understand is why she didn’t say that the painting was of her mother? She just called the woman Ivy.”

Luke knew there were several reasons why someone who’d been missing didn’t volunteer information, but none of them were encouraging. He chose his words carefully so as not to upset Sam.

“There are all kinds of reasons,” he said. “And you shouldn’t blame yourself. Jade was so young when Margaret left that what you said may have meant nothing to her. Also, we have no way of knowing what she was told. For all we know, she may not remember enough of her childhood to make any connections to what you said. Lots of times children who are stolen from one parent are told by the other one that the parent is dead…or, in some cases, that the parent doesn’t love them anymore.”

“Dear God,” Sam said. “What are we going to do? This is Margaret all over again. She didn’t want to be found and stayed lost for all these years. If Jade doesn’t want to be found, what’s to stop this from happening all over again?”

“Me,” Luke said, and then pointed to the envelope in Shelly’s lap. “Are those the pictures?”

She nodded, then handed them to him.

Luke opened the envelope and dumped them out onto the coffee table between them. Almost immediately, his gaze fell on a close-up of the woman in the booth. He knew he should say something, but there were no words for what was going through his mind.

At thirty-seven years old, he’d seen his share of attractive women, but the face in the photo was beyond attractive. She was, without doubt, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life. He picked up another, then another and another, staring in disbelief at the delicate curve of her cheek and the thick, black hair falling in waves over her shoulder and down her back. When he finally let himself look at the man with her, his stomach knotted. The man was, in his way, as physically beautiful as a man could be.

“Let me see,” Sam said.

“Keep in mind, it still has to be determined if this woman is truly the artist. We only have her word that she put the fingerprint on the canvas.”

“I saw her doing caricatures,” Shelly said. “And the shirt she was wearing had some tiny paint stains. I remember seeing them and thinking how perfectly bohemian.”

Luke handed him the photos, watching his friend’s expression for signs of distress. But he need not have worried. The moment Sam’s gaze fell on the woman in the photo, he exhaled a deep sigh.

“Oh God…dear God…she looks like my mother.”

“Are you sure?” Marsh asked. “You’re not just seeing something in her that you want to see?”

Sam looked up, his eyes lit with joy, tears rolling down his face.

“Wait here,” he said, and hurried out of the room. A couple of minutes later he was back with a small framed photo. “This is a picture of my mother and father on their wedding day. You judge for yourself.”

They crowded around the photo. Marsh and Shelly murmured to each other about the similarity in likenesses, but Luke remained silent. Finally Sam noticed.