by Sharon Sala
He placed his plate of cold cuts and crackers on the table beside his chair, opened the can of pop that he’d filched from the refrigerator and took a big swig.
“Aaah,” he said, burping loudly as the carbonated soft drink hit his empty stomach.
He put the binoculars to his eyes, adjusted them accordingly, then aimed them toward Sam Cochrane’s house just in time to see a pair of city police cruisers pulling into the driveway. He arched an eyebrow, then, without taking the binoculars away from his face, felt for the plate of cold cuts and got himself a bite. He chewed quietly with his mouth closed as his mother had taught him to do. When another car pulled in behind the patrol cars, he turned the binoculars to the license tag.
HEADDR.
It took him a few seconds to decipher it; then he realized that the latest arrival was a shrink. He grinned, laid the binoculars in his lap, and picked up the plate and polished off the rest of the meat and crackers.
“I guess somebody got a little spooked by her boyfriend’s recent demise. What a pity.”
He downed the rest of his pop, then crunched the empty can between his hands before tossing it into the ornamental urn in the corner of the room.
“Two points!” he shouted when the can dropped inside, then laid the binoculars on the floor and carried his dirty plate into the kitchen.
Finished with doing the dishes, he searched through the various bathrooms until he found some antiseptic cream and small bandages. Once he’d doctored the deep scratches on his hands and covered them up, he was in a much better mood. His belly was full, his wounds no longer causing him pain, and he was more than halfway through with the job he’d come to do.
Tonight he would find a way into the Cochrane house. It gave him a hard-on just thinking about the risks of walking into the enemy’s camp and taking out the woman without detection. This was what had been missing over the last few years. The risks. He’d gotten too damned good at what he did, and it had taken all the fun out of killing. Shooting Jade Cochrane from a hidden location and with a rifle fixed with a telescopic sight would be as boring as white bread. But entering her house, walking in the same places she walked, breathing the same air, touching the same things, then killing her in her own bed while her family slept only a short distance away, was a high he could only imagine. For Johnny, it was crossing a line from professionalism to personal pleasure.
He could hardly wait.
Earl Walters had been a street cop the year Jade Cochrane disappeared. Now, pushing thirty years on the job, he was the chief of police for the St. Louis Police Department and a personal friend of Sam Cochrane’s. Like everyone else in the city who remembered the desperation of a young father trying to find his family, he had rejoiced at Jade Cochrane’s return. He didn’t know the particulars of the man who’d come with her, but it hadn’t mattered. The little girl who’d been lost had come home.
But today he was outraged by the murders that had taken place in the hospital. That some son-of-a-bitch could waltz into a ward that was off limits to the general public, then commit such heinous crimes without being seen, was not to be tolerated. The mayor was on his ass, and the phones on his desk hadn’t stopped ringing since the bodies had been discovered. As if that wasn’t enough, the incident had caused a new feeding frenzy for the media. Speculation was high as to why someone attached to the prodigal daughter would have been murdered. Gossip abounded as to what they must have done in their past that would have made someone kill. Knowing Sam Cochrane the way he did, this was going to be touchy business, which was why he’d come out from behind his desk to ask the questions himself.
Velma was at her wits’ end and had abdicated answering the door for her duties in the kitchen. Luke had made a call to his office, and thirty minutes later two very large, very determined men were stationed at both entrances to Sam’s house, along with guards at the driveway leading up to the house and at the back gates. Now that they were confident no intruders could get through their defenses, all they had to do was ignore the phones, which meant they were also ignoring calls from the police, which accounted for the reason two city police cars were parked on their front lawn and Earl Walters was ringing their doorbell.
Earl ambled up to the front door and rang the bell. A very large man with a big head and no neck opened the door and basically told Earl to get lost, at which point Earl flashed his identification and told the man to go get Sam.
Earl waited in the foyer. He didn’t have long to wait.
Sam came down the stairs in a hurry.
“Earl! I expected the police, but not you. You’ve been riding that desk for so long I didn’t know you still knew how to dismount.”
Earl grinned. The references to his being more cowboy than cop was an old joke between them. “Wish I could say this was a personal visit, but we both know it’s not. We need to talk.”
“Of course,” Sam said. “Library okay?”
“Can your daughter join us?”
Sam’s expression darkened. “Right now my daughter is debating as to whether she’s still willing to join the human race.”
“Damn. I’m sorry,” Earl said. “But it’s important. Will you let me try to talk to her?”
Sam shrugged. “There’s a doctor with her now. If she says it’s okay, then you can try.”
“Thanks,” Earl said. “Lead the way.”
Sam went back up the stairs, with Earl right behind him. As they neared the second floor, Earl could hear someone crying. His stomach knotted. Now he remembered why he’d wanted off the streets and behind a desk. He hated facing the families of victims of crime.
Trying to regain some composure, he swiped a hand across his face and then popped a couple of breath mints in his mouth. The sobbing was louder now. He patted the pocket of his jacket, then cursed beneath his breath when he discovered he’d forgotten to get a handkerchief this morning. Already, beads of sweat were forming on his upper lip, a sure sign of anxiety.
“She’s in here,” Sam said. “Luke’s with her.”
Earl frowned. “Luke Kelly of Kelly Securities?”
“The same.”
“He’s the guy you hired to find her, right?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Sam said.
“Still on the payroll, I see. So what are you and those guys outside protecting her from?”
Sam turned around. The congenial expression on his face was gone.
“The goddamned television crews…the reporters who won’t take no for an answer. You name it. We haven’t been able to show our faces in public without causing a stir.”
Earl flushed. Sam was defensive. He should have expected it.
“Sorry. But we’re trying to find a reason for the murders. She’s the logical place to start.”
“You’re sure that the killer was after Raphael and not the nurse? Maybe Raphael was just a witness who the killer needed to shut up. Did you check that angle?”
Earl frowned. “You know we did, and I can promise you that the man was the target.”
“How do you know that?” Sam snapped.
“Because the woman’s kill was neat, quick and quiet. Raphael was all doped up. He wouldn’t even have known she was dead if the killer had walked out then. But his death was brutal. He fought back. We have DNA beneath his fingernails, hemorrhaging beneath the skin and in his eyes. He was strangled, and it was not an easy way to die. He was the target.”
“Oh Lord,” Sam whispered, then laid the flat of his hand on the door to Jade’s room, as if holding off the hell that had followed her here. Then he looked at Earl. “Don’t tell her the details. She can’t know. Not now. Maybe never.”
Earl nodded.
Sam opened the door.
Earl saw a slim, dark-haired woman curled into fetal position in the middle of the bed. The man at the window was nothing but a dark silhouette against the sunlight until he moved. Earl recognized Luke Kelly.
“What’s he doing here?” Luke asked.
“He wants t
o talk to Jade.”
Luke lowered his voice. “Are you crazy? She’s in no shape to talk to anyone.”
“Look, the sooner I can get some answers, the better off we’ll all be. Right now, we don’t have anything except a faint image of some guy in a lab coat who nobody knows, walking down a hall toward the isolation ward.”
Luke shook his head. “That’s not true. You’ve got my car. Check underneath for fingerprints.”
Earl frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They had a wreck at the same time the incident was happening at the hospital,” Sam said.
“So what’s one got to do with the other?” Earl asked.
“I think someone messed with my brakes. Whether it was just to slow us down or in the hope of killing Jade, too, I don’t know.”
Earl dug in his pocket, popped another breath mint and wished it was an antacid instead.
“I didn’t know about this,” he said. “I’ll look into it. In the meantime, I really need to talk to her. So where’s the doctor?”
At that point the bathroom door opened and a woman came out with a towel in her hands. She was short and dark, just like her hair. Her olive-green business suit was expensive, her makeup flawless. Earl Walters recognized her and nodded a hello.
“Antonia.”
She glanced at Jade, then frowned.
“This isn’t a good time,” she said.
His opinion of her was less than favorable after she’d once told him he needed his head examined. He’d taken it personally, and they’d been at odds ever since.
“Murder never is,” he said, and stood his ground.
Jade rolled over on her side, then sat up on the side of the bed. Her eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears.
Luke sat down beside her, then bent and whispered something in her ear that Earl couldn’t hear. But whatever Kelly said, it captured her attention. She fixed him with a stare that made him wish he’d sent the homicide detectives, instead.
“Miss Cochrane, I am sorry for your loss.”
Jade took a slow, shuddering breath and then covered her face with her hands.
Earl’s stomach lurched. If she started crying again, he was going to make his apologies and get the hell out. To his surprise, she was trying to pull herself together.
“Thank you,” she said.
Antonia DiMatto sat down on the other side of Jade and handed her the damp towel she’d brought from the bathroom.
“Here, dear. Wipe your face. It will make you feel better.”
“No, it won’t,” Jade muttered.
“Do it anyway,” Antonia said.
Jade wiped the damp towel over her hot, tearstained face, and to her surprise, it felt good.
Earl leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’ve got some things I’d like to talk to you about.”
Jade looked horrified. “Are you a reporter?”
“Hell no!” Earl blurted, then flushed. “Sorry. That just slipped out.” He pulled his badge. “Earl Walters, Chief of Police. Your daddy and I are old friends.”
Jade looked to Sam for assurance. Sam nodded.
“I don’t know who killed my Rafie,” she said; then her voice broke.
Earl pulled his chair closer to the bed. “Is there anything from your past that you can think of that would set someone off…? Maybe someone who might want either of you dead?”
“Yes.”
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. He pulled out a notebook and pen.
“Can you give me a name?”
She sat for a moment, staring down at the carpet. Then she took a deep breath, as if she’d just made up her mind about something important, and looked up at Luke.
“There’s an old shirt box in the bottom of the last dresser drawer. Would you bring it to me?”
“Sure, honey,” he said softly, and did as she asked.
The moment the box was in Jade’s hands, she felt the burden of it numbing her soul. If she kept this secret, Raphael’s killer might get away, but Sam wouldn’t have to know. But if she told, Sam wasn’t going to want her anymore. She tried to think of how she would survive back on the streets without Raphael, and then knew it couldn’t matter. Raphael had died trying to protect her—of that she was certain. Humiliating herself was the least she could do if it brought the killer to justice.
Her hands were shaking as she handed Earl the box.
He opened it, expecting almost anything except the dozens and dozens of drawings. He fingered through them, absently noting the skill of the artist but missing her intent.
“These are really nice,” he said. “Are they your work?”
She frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“Your work? Are you the artist?”
She glanced up at Sam and then quickly looked away.
“Yes, but I’m also the victim.”
Earl leaned forward. Now they were getting somewhere. “Victim” was a word he understood.
“How so, Miss Cochrane?”
“The faces…they’re of some of the…uncles…but not all of them, you understand. Only the ones that I remember.” Her finger was shaking as she pointed to the stack in Earl Walters’ hand. “They’re the ones who smiled. They’re the ones who liked to inflict pain.”
Antonia DiMatto quickly hid her shock. Now the blank spaces in Jade Cochrane’s life were beginning to make sense, as was her reticence to trust.
Earl stared down at the drawings, then back up at Jade.
“I’m not following you.”
Jade sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s difficult to talk about.”
“Tell it anyway,” Antonia said. “If you want to get well, tell it anyway.”
Sam sat on the bed behind her. Now Jade was surrounded. Luke on one side, the psychiatrist on the other, and Sam at her back. Instead of feeling crowded, it made her feel safe. Then Sam touched the back of her head.
“Honey, look at me,” he said.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I know.”
She gasped, then looked at Luke as if he’d betrayed her.
“I didn’t tell him until they killed Raphael,” he said. “He had to know, honey, and you were in no shape for me to ask permission.”
She turned around, unsure of what she would see.
Sam took her hands in his, then lifted them to his lips.
“Don’t ever be afraid to tell me anything. I love you. Nothing is going to change that.”
Jade sagged with relief. “I tried to get away,” she said. “I kicked and begged for them to stop. They never did.”
“I know, darling, I know. It wasn’t your fault…ever.”
Earl cleared his throat. “Hey, people. I’m still here, and I’d like to know what the hell is going on.”
“Tell him, honey,” Luke said. “The more you talk about it, the easier it’s going to get.”
“Everyone is going to know,” Jade said.
“Everyone doesn’t matter,” Luke said. “The people who know you…the people who love you, will never judge you. Understand?”
She sighed, nodded, then looked at Earl and pointed to the pictures.
“A man named Solomon was the leader of the People of Joy. I lived with them from the time my mother took me away until I was twelve, only mother died about two years after we left here. I guess I was about six when it happened, but I’m not sure. The years all sort of ran together.”
Earl nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“About a week after my mother left…I didn’t know she was dead for several years until one of the women let it slip, because I thought she’d just run away again, only this time, leaving me behind like she had Sam. Anyway, one night Solomon got me out of my bed and carried me down the hall to the purple room. He laid me down on this bed. There weren’t any lights in the room. Only candles. I thought that was where I was supposed to sleep now and told him that I wanted to go back to the other bed, that
it smelled funny in there.”
A muscle in Earl’s jaw jerked. It was the only sign of any emotion. Antonia DiMatto was watching Sam’s daughter for signs of a mental breakdown. What she saw was a very troubled, but a very strong woman who’d endured and prevailed.
“Go on,” Earl said.
Jade nodded.
“Solomon got mad and told me that since my mother was gone, I was going to have to earn my keep. I told him that if I stood on a chair, I could reach the sink to wash dishes. He stroked my face, then pulled my gown up above my waist, put his hand between my legs and told me it wasn’t enough.”
“Christ,” Earl muttered.
“The man came out of the shadows. I hadn’t known anyone else was there. I cried to go back to my room. Solomon pushed me back down on the bed and then left. I…uh, he…”
Jade started to hyperventilate as she struggled for breath.
Luke cupped Jade’s face.
“Look at me, honey. Look at me.”
Jade’s gaze focused.
“Now breathe,” he whispered.
Antonia DiMatto moved closer now. “Jade. It’s in the past. You are not in the purple room. You are in your own room with your father and with Luke. Do as he says, dear. Breathe.”
Slowly the panic Jade felt began to subside. She shuddered, then moaned.
“I prayed to God. He didn’t answer.”
Luke cursed.
Sam was crying.
Antonia DiMatto knew Jade had a lot of work to do to get beyond the past.
Earl Walters stared at the drawings.
“These drawings…”
Jade shuddered. “The faces. They haunt my dreams. Maybe I haunt theirs, as well.”
Suddenly Earl understood.
“Are you saying that the killer is one of these men?”
She shrugged. “It could be any of them…or someone I don’t remember…or even Solomon.”
“Is his picture in here, too?” Earl asked.
