Out of the Dark

by Sharon Sala

  “Sorry. She doesn’t like to be touched,” Raphael said.

  Charlie sighed. “I understand,” he said softly. “However, if either of you need any medication, just let me know. There’s a doctor up at the office who’ll be here at least until morning.”

  “She’s fine,” Raphael said. “We’ll try not to cause any more disturbance.”

  Charlie grinned as he looked around. “Are you kidding? It sounds like a buzz-saw convention in here already. Try to get some rest, okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Raphael said.

  Jade looked at Raphael and then shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a scene. I was—”

  “Shh,” Raphael said, and then brushed a tangled lock of her hair away from her face. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except that we’re no longer in danger of winding up at the bottom of the Mississippi.”

  “I’m sorry we came here,” Jade said. “This is all my fault.”

  “No. It’s no one’s fault. I wanted to come here, too, remember?”

  Jade frowned. “No you didn’t. You just let me have my way.” Then she shoved her hands through her hair and scooted closer so that their conversation wouldn’t disturb their nearby neighbors. “I’m sorry, Rafie. I’m sorry about everything. All I do is cause you trouble.” Her voice started to shatter, but she made herself focus. What she had to say should have been said years ago. “I am a grown woman. I will get past this…this…crap, so help me God.”

  Raphael leaned forward until their foreheads were touching.

  “It wasn’t crap, baby, it was criminal. Don’t ever belittle yourself. I damn sure don’t, okay?”

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  He smiled. “Good girl. Think you can go back to sleep?”

  “I don’t want to sleep,” she said.

  Raphael frowned. “You were dreaming about one of them, weren’t you?”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “Who?”

  “The one who called himself Uncle Sugar.”

  “Is his face in the box?”

  “No,” Jade said.

  “Then in the morning, you draw it and put it with the others. Remember, if you put it on paper, then you don’t have to remember what he looks like anymore.”

  “Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll draw his face tomorrow,” Jade said, then lay back down on the cot and tried to relax.

  Drawing the faces was a mental exercise in exorcising the ghosts. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

  She watched as Raphael lay back down on his cot and then scooted as far back toward her as he could. She slid her arm across his waist and then spooned herself against his backside. Despite her fears that the nightmare would return, she slept dreamlessly through the rest of the night.

  It was five minutes after nine o’clock when Luke turned his rental car toward the building at the end of the block. He’d been told it was the old YMCA, which was another temporary shelter for flood victims. The only thing good about the day so far was that his suitcase had arrived sometime during the night, so he had been able to shave and put on clean clothes.

  But now this was the third shelter he’d been to since daybreak, and he was beginning to panic. According to the man he’d spoken to at the civil defense office, the city had set up only this one other shelter besides the ones that he’d already visited, and the people there were already being released to go back to their homes. He could only imagine what disasters they would go home to, and he empathized with them. However, there was an old injustice that he needed to solve, and the faster things changed, the more difficult his job became.

  He parked as close as he could get, then got out. His stride was long, his steps hurried, as he crossed the street and entered the front door. Immediately he was struck by the sea of moving bodies spread out before him. Some were still reclining on cots, while others were up eating the breakfast the Red Cross was providing. Some children were crying, while others were quietly devouring sweet rolls and oranges.

  “Sir, can I help you?”

  Luke turned around to find himself face-to-face with a weary, middle-aged woman.

  “I’m looking for someone,” he said. “Do you have a list of names?”

  “Somewhere,” she said, and then sidestepped a toddler with a dripping, half-peeled orange as she moved into a small office to their right.

  Luke glanced toward the sleeping area, then followed her into the office. The woman shuffled through the same stack of papers three times before she found it.

  “Ah, here it is,” she said. “What’s the name of the person you’re looking for?”

  “Jade Cochrane. She’s in her twenties. Very beautiful woman with long black hair. She might be with a—”

  The woman suddenly looked up. “A tall, dark-haired man who looks as if he could have posed for Michelangelo?”

  Luke’s pulse kicked. The man who’d been photographed with Jade could easily have been described in such a manner.

  “Is she here?”

  “She was, or at least she should be,” the woman said. “We haven’t checked anyone out, although the place is such a madhouse, I can’t swear to anything.”

  “It’s imperative that I find her.”

  The woman hesitated, then looked him square in the eye.

  “I need to see some identification.”

  Luke pulled out his wallet. “Yeah, sure. Name’s Luke Kelly, and among other things, I’m a private investigator. I was hired by a man named Sam Cochrane to find his daughter.”

  “Is she a runaway? Because if the woman I’m thinking of is the one you’re looking for, she’s already of age, which means she can’t be forced to go anywhere she doesn’t want to go.”

  “She’s not a runaway,” Luke said. “She was kidnapped by her mother when she was four. He hasn’t seen her since.”

  “Oh dear Lord!” the woman said. “Poor man, but how did you come to think she would be here?”

  “I’d already been hired to find her when I saw her…or at least I thought it was her…on the national news during some of the taped flood coverage.”

  “Oh, yes, that,” the woman said. “The media has been all over the place, taking up a whole lot of rooms that we could use for the flood victims, instead. However, that’s another story altogether. As for your search, feel free to go look. She’s not a child, and she’s not alone.”

  “I still don’t want to cause her concern. The less fuss, the better off we’ll be. If Jade Cochrane is here, then it’s doubtful she remembers much of anything about the first four years of her life.”

  “Of course,” she said, and then clasped her hands to her breast and tried not to cry. “This is just so…so moving.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Luke said, as he left her at the desk.

  His heart was pounding as he started down the aisles, focusing on young women with pretty faces and long, dark hair. Twice he thought he’d found her, only to realize at the last moment that he was mistaken. The number of people he had left to see was growing smaller by the minute, and then he stopped to pick up a ball of yarn that an old woman had dropped. When he handed it to her, she started to cry.

  “It’s all I have left,” she said softly, then clutched it close to her chest as she stared off into space. “I can’t finish the sweater now, you know. I don’t know what to do. I always finish what I start.”

  Luke’s heart went out to her, but he needed to find Jade. Going back to St. Louis and facing Sam empty-handed wasn’t something he wanted to do. He took a couple of twenty-dollar bills out of his wallet, then put them in the old woman’s hand.

  “Here,” he said gently, making her look at what he was giving her. “It’s forty dollars. Now you can buy some more pink yarn to finish your sweater.”

  For a few seconds she stared at the money, then looked up at Luke.

  “More yarn?” she said, as if the thought had not occurred to her.

  He nodded, then closed her fingers over the money.


  “Yes, more pink yarn,” he said.

  “To finish the sweater.”

  Luke touched the back of her head, a little startled that he could feel the rapid and irregular beat of her pulse against his palm.

  “Yes, darlin’ to finish your sweater.”

  She shuddered, then curled her fingers tightly around the money.

  “Why, yes, I can do that,” she said, and then looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, young man. Your mother must be proud of you.”

  Luke didn’t bother to tell her that his mother was dead. It was immaterial to the fact that the old woman’s confusion was beginning to subside.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and then looked up.

  It was then he realized there was a group of children gathering at the far end of the room. He moved closer, then closer still, until he saw that they were gathering around a young, dark-haired woman.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a handful of colored markers near her knee. There was a small girl sitting motionless beside her, seemingly enthralled by the fact that a butterfly was being painted on her cheek. Another child with a tiny green turtle on his forehead was running away from the crowd to show his parents, while yet another sat looking in a mirror, mesmerized by the black nose and cat whiskers she’d painted on his face.

  At that moment, someone said something that made her look up. When she laughed, the breath caught in the back of Luke’s throat. It was the woman from the photograph. There was no mistake about it.

  He took a step forward and then caution made him stop. Barging in without explanation could be a big mistake. He needed her cooperation to make Sam’s dreams come true, and he had no way of knowing how she would react. So he stayed where he was, watching her work her magic to calm the frantic children and, in turn, give weary parents a moment’s rest.

  Raphael came out of the bathroom, as always looking for Jade to make sure she was all right, then tossed a handful of wet paper towels into the trash. He patted his pocket, checking to see if the paper with Clarence’s phone number was still there, then headed for the makeshift kitchen to see if there was any more coffee. He’d heard on the radio a few minutes ago that the flood waters had crested during the night and were now starting to subside. As far as he was concerned, it would be none too soon. Considering the damage the flood had done and the amount of rebuilding that would have to take place, their best bet would be to move on. Their livelihood depended largely upon the tourist trade and carnival-style gatherings, and the disaster of this flood couldn’t help but impact that in a negative way.

  He called out to Jade in passing, asking her if she wanted some coffee. Too intent on the little mermaid she was painting on a small child’s hand to look up, she just shook her head.

  The moment Luke had seen the man coming out of the bathroom, his last doubts as to whether he’d found Jade Cochrane disappeared. It was the same man from the photographs, right down to his Hollywood good-looks and shoulder-length black hair. But there was something in the way his gaze swept the room and the set of his shoulders that told Luke they might be on the run from more than a flood. When he walked away, Luke moved closer to Jade.

  The first thing Raphael noticed when he came back with his coffee was the man watching Jade, and not with the abstract attention one might expect from a stranger. He was staring at Jade as if he’d just seen a ghost, and it made Raphael nervous. He discarded his coffee and started across the room, unaware that his fingers had curled into fists. When he was close enough to see a mole on the back of the man’s neck, he spoke softly.

  “She’s none of your business.”

  Luke jumped, then turned around, surprised that he’d been caught so unaware and by one of the people he’d been looking for. It wasn’t the introduction he’d envisioned, but it was too late to change it now.

  “I’m Luke Kelly.”

  The man didn’t budge, nor did he return the gesture of introduction, but it didn’t dissuade Luke from what he’d come to do. He took out his wallet and flashed his ID.

  “Look, I mean her no harm. I’m a private investigator from St. Louis, Missouri.”

  Raphael’s heart skipped a beat. The woman who’d bought the painting of Ivy had claimed to be from St. Louis, too. This couldn’t be a coincidence, but he needed to know for sure.

  “What are you doing here?” Raphael asked.

  “Sam Cochrane hired me to find his daughter.”

  Raphael tensed. Oh my God…can this be true? “Who’s Sam Cochrane?”

  Luke turned and pointed toward Jade. “Is her name Jade?”

  Raphael hesitated, then nodded.

  “Was the woman in the painting her mother?”

  Raphael’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away. “Yes.”

  “What happened to her?” Luke asked.

  “She died when we were kids.”

  “What are you to her?” Luke asked, pointing at Jade.

  Raphael looked at Jade, unaware that every fiber of the love he felt for her was mirrored in his eyes.

  “We’re family,” he finally said.

  It wasn’t the exact answer Luke wanted, but he figured it was all he would get.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  Raphael’s chin jutted as he met Luke’s gaze. “Raphael.”

  “So, Raphael, do you have a last name?”

  “No.”

  “Look, I’m not out to cause either of you any trouble. If you’re running from something, it’s none of my concern. I’m just trying to find a lost daughter for a friend of mine.”

  Raphael thought of the years separating them from Solomon and his people and wondered if it would ever be enough. But that wasn’t what this Luke Kelly meant.

  “We’re not ‘on the run’ from the law, if that’s what you’re implying,” Raphael said. “And I’m not hiding my identity. I never knew my mother or my father. My earliest memories are of the People of Joy. They called me Raphael.”

  “People of Joy? Are you still, uh, involved with them?” Luke asked.

  “No,” Raphael said shortly. “If the world is lucky, they no longer exist.” He felt out of control—afraid of what was coming, but aware that if this panned out, it could be the answer to his prayers. “Is this Sam Cochrane a good man?”

  Luke smiled. “Oh, yeah. The best.”

  Raphael sighed. “So’s she,” he said softly.

  Suddenly sensing that she was being watched, Jade looked up, then saw Raphael talking to a stranger and frowned. They weren’t in the habit of chitchatting with people, especially ones they didn’t know. She arched an eyebrow at Raphael in a questioning manner.

  He shrugged and smiled, then waved her over. “Got a minute?”

  Jade nodded and stood. As she did, the children around her began to scatter.

  Raphael held out his hand. “Then come with me, baby. There’s someone I think you should meet.”

  Jade’s eyes widened as her gaze suddenly moved from Raphael to the man beside him. His expression was fixed, his chin jutting slightly, as if bracing himself for unseen blows. All of a sudden she could hear the old cabdriver’s voice telling her not to be afraid and to trust the big man. But she didn’t trust anyone except—

  “Raphael?”

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  Jade’s expression darkened.

  Luke felt her distrust as vividly as if it was physical, but he said what had to be said.

  “Jade Cochrane, my name is Luke Kelly. I was hired by your father, Sam Cochrane, to find you and bring you home.”

  Six

  “I don’t believe you,” Jade said, then gave Raphael a panicked look. “How can you? We don’t know anything about him. What if Solomon sent him?”

  Again Luke removed his wallet and held it toward her.

  “I don’t know anyone named Solomon. These are my credentials. I’m an ex-cop. I have a private investigation company in St. Louis, Missouri. Twenty-some years ago, a woman name
d Margaret Cochrane took her four-year-old daughter, Jade, and disappeared. Her husband, Sam, spent every spare penny he had for more than ten years hiring people to try to find them, but with no luck. Years later, Sam Cochrane is still alone and growing old. Then the wife of one of his good friends brings home a painting that she purchased at a San Francisco street fair.”

  Jade paled.

  “The painting was of his wife, Margaret, only the artist called her Ivy. Can you imagine what this did to Sam?”

  Jade felt rooted to the spot as she listened with growing disbelief.

  “His hopes went from high to low within seconds. Whatever dreams he might have entertained ended the moment he learned she was dead. It was like losing her all over again.”

  “Oh,” Jade whispered, and exhaled a sigh.

  The room was starting to spin, and she was beginning to shake. She wanted this to stop and the man to go away, but it was like witnessing an accident and not being able to look away. As frightening as this was, she had to know the rest.

  Luke could tell this was tough on her, but not as tough as it had been on Sam, and it had to be said.

  “Initially, Sam just wanted me to find the artist. He figured that since the artist had known Margaret well enough to paint her, she might have known her daughter, too. Never in a million years did he imagine that they were one and the same.”

  “How did you know?” Raphael asked.

  “We ran a fingerprint on the painting through the national registry. No one was more surprised than we were when we learned it belonged to Sam’s little girl.”

  Jade’s heart skipped a beat. What made this even more frightening than Solomon was that she was beginning to believe him. But what did this mean to her world? Could she go back and live with a stranger? Even if he was her father, he was still a man—a man she didn’t know.

  “Oh dear Lord,” Jade muttered, then grabbed Raphael’s hand. “Raphael?”

  “What, baby?”

  “What do we do?”

  “This isn’t about me,” he said gently.