Wendy Lindstrom

by Kissing in the Dark

  She felt her own razor-sharp grief that was always near the surface, and it made her eyes tear.

  “Come. Sit.” He pushed the door closed and turned the lock, then directed her to a chair. The leather furniture and mahogany walls of the plush office suited his dark, good looks. He leaned his narrow hips against his desk, and looked at Duke, who continued to stand. “I have business with your wife, but first, tell me how I can help you.”

  As though Duke were presenting his case to a judge and jury, Faith listened to him state the crime of Cora’s abduction and his suspicion about the judge, then listed the facts and events of the case. “I need any information you may have on Faith’s mother and Judge Stone, and where I might be able to find Cora,” he said.

  But the lawyer’s dark-skinned face had turned a sickly gray. “My God . . . Rose was telling the truth,” he said, gazing trance like into the middle distance. “The bastard duped me. Rose and I were nothing but pawns to him.”

  Faith exchanged a look with Duke, who was scowling at the lawyer’s odd behavior.

  “He was after the property” The lawyer’s half-insane laugh unnerved Faith. “The dirty bastard orchestrated this whole thing!”

  “What does this have to do with us?” Faith asked.

  The man propelled himself off the desk and across the room, then back to his desk, his dark eyes flashing with fury. “Stone cautioned me to think of my career, and warned that I would be ruined if anyone saw me in the badlands. But like a jealous dog, he was guarding his bone.”

  Duke’s scowl deepened. “Cuvier, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but my daughter is missing, and I need any information I can use to get her back.”

  The lawyer stopped pacing. “Are you or Mrs. Grayson aware of a project by the city of Syracuse to change the badlands section into a theater district?”

  “No.” Duke looked at Faith, but she shook her head. Her mother hadn’t bothered with the newspaper because she, and women like her, weren’t welcome to participate in social events.

  “I suspected as much.” The lawyer began pacing again. “Judge Stone started a renewal project over twenty years ago. It evolved slowly, and was nearly lost on several occasions. But the judge pressed on for years, insisting our city needed to clean up the badlands and build an area that would attract investors and new business. I admired him for being so civic-minded, and even did the legal work for several properties he purchased in that area.”

  “Why would he want my mother’s house if he owned so many properties?” Faith asked, suspecting the lawyer was unaware it was a brothel.

  “Because your mother’s property sits in the middle of the proposed theater district, and it’s one of the last properties still owned by the resident.”

  “Which makes the property more valuable and of interest to Stone,” Duke said.

  “Exactly” The lawyer gave him a curt nod. “A bank or investor looking to build a business in the area would offer a good bit of money for the property.”

  “Are you saying my mother could have sold the broth— property for a lot of money?”

  The lawyer nodded. “She could have made a small fortune. I assumed she was waiting to sell in order to gain an advantage.”

  “Are you in possession of the deed then?” Duke asked.

  “Rose kept a safe deposit box at the bank and gave me a key,” he said. “To my knowledge she kept the deed there.”

  Finally Faith new the location of the elusive deed and what the key in her mother’s guestbook was for, but all she could think about was how close her mother had been to owning that little house with the porch and rose garden. Had she known about the city’s renewal plan? Or had she died never realizing she was so close to gaining her freedom?

  It sickened Faith, and it broke her heart that one powerful and corrupt man could hurt so many people.

  “Give it to him,” she said to the lawyer, wanting nothing more than to get Cora back. “I’ll sign the deed over to him.”

  “The hell you will.” Duke’s fierce scowl made her heart trip.

  “Duke, I want to get Cora back and go home.”

  “We’re not giving in to that greedy bastard. I’ll find Cora, and we’ll sell the property, but not to the judge.”

  “But he’ll come after us again.”

  “And he’ll deal with me this time.”

  “He’s heartless and conniving. My mother tried to stand up to him and it caused her death.”

  “What?” Shock and rage filled the lawyer’s dark eyes. “Did you witness this?”

  “My aunt Iris did. Mama was arguing with Stone over the brothel, and it enraged her when he threatened to take Cora. She attacked him. Maybe Stone didn’t mean for her to go over the railing, but she did, and Iris said he didn’t try to stop her fall.”

  “Dear God . . .” The lawyer’s throat worked, and he turned his back. The room was dead silent for several long seconds.

  Without a word, the lawyer strode to a file cabinet and pulled out a large envelope. He spread the contents on his desk, and picked through several papers before finding what he was looking for. His eyes were misty when he handed the paper to Duke. “This is the address for Stone’s mistress. I handled all his personal business, so I’m aware that he supports this woman. It’s the only place I can think he’d be able to take your daughter without answering a lot of uncomfortable questions. His mistress could easily keep the girl for him. Stone has court this afternoon. I would suggest you pay a call now while I have a long overdue talk with your wife.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Faith, I think . . . I’m fairly certain you’re my daughter.”

  His words sucked all the oxygen from the room, and Faith gripped the upholstered arms of her chair, fighting a dizzying rush of disbelief. She stared at Steven Cuvier, at his bronze skin and his almond shaped eyes and lanky body, and knew this man was her father. And the reason he looked familiar was because Adam resembled him.

  A sudden pounding, then the rattle of the doorknob broke the silence in the room and startled a gasp from Faith.

  “Steven! Are you in there?”

  Faith recognized Stone’s grating voice, and was glad Cuvier had locked the door. “It’s the judge,” she whispered.

  Rage flared in Duke’s eyes and he started across the room.

  Cuvier caught his arm. “Wait,” he whispered.

  Duke stopped and gave him curt nod.

  Another knock. Another rattle of the knob. “Cuvier?” A second later, they heard the judge’s heavy footfalls echoing through the lobby then up the stairs.

  “The judge’s chambers are at the front of the building, but he could be anywhere upstairs,” Cuvier said. “Let’s go out the back exit. I’ll take Faith to my house, then come back here and detain the judge as long as I can while you go for Cora.”

  “We have lodgings near the station,” Duke said.

  “You’re registered under Grayson?” At Duke’s nod, the lawyer shook his head. “Now that I know what the judge is up to, neither of you are safe. Keep the room, but don’t stay there. I’ll take Faith by to get your bags, then drop her at my home. She’ll be safest there.” He scratched his address on a piece of paper and handed it to Duke. “Meet us there as soon as you can.”

  The lawyer peeked out his door, then rushed them out a back exit and across a brown lawn raked clean of dried leaves. They crossed a brick street, and cut between Horton’s Mercantile store and a bank. A block away from the courthouse, they parted company. Faith and her father headed toward the hotel near the train depot.

  Duke jogged several blocks in the opposite direction, following the lawyer’s hastily scribbled map, until he came to a row of brick houses near the canal. At house number forty-seven, he stopped to catch his breath. When all remained quiet outside, he casually peered in the windows, acting as if he were heading to the back entrance.

  He spied Cora sitting on the floor beside a huge dining room table, playing with a book, and his hear
t jumped with relief, then pounded with uncontrollable anger. He would kill the judge if he’d hurt her.

  At the back door, Duke wrestled his anger under control, then gave a sharp rap with the brass knocker. “Delivery!” he yelled in a disguised voice he hoped Cora wouldn’t recognize. He didn’t want her alerting the mistress, because it would be much easier to walk through an open door than to break through a solid slab of oak. And it would draw less attention from the neighbors.

  “Who’s delivering?” a male voice asked from the other side of the door.

  Damn! He’d hoped the mistress was alone. Now it was a guessing game of how many people were inside guarding Cora. He scrambled for a name, then remembered the store behind the courthouse. “Horton’s Mercantile!” he hollered to whoever was on the other side of the door.

  “What do you have?”

  “Don’t know, sir. The package is sealed.”

  A grumble came through the door, then the rattle of a key, and twisting of the door knob.

  The second the door started to open, Duke slammed his shoulder into the solid oak and shoved the man back several steps. The man was short, stocky, and half asleep by the look of his eyes, but Duke’s abrupt entrance into the kitchen snapped him to attention. He lunged for a cast iron frying pan on the stove, but left his jaw exposed to Duke’s fist. The first blow spun him away from the stove and into the sink. The second blow rolled his eyes back in his head. He crashed to the floor, and Duke bolted into the next room.

  A tall, striking woman spun to face him, her eyes filled with fear.

  “Daddy!” Cora scrambled to her feet, but the woman caught Cora’s arm and held her back. “Daddy!” Cora cried again, her fear slicing through him.

  “Whoever you are, get out of my house,” the woman said, pulling Cora toward a doorway that led to another room.

  “I’m that little girl’s father,” Duke said, striding across the room. “And I’m taking her home.”

  He reached for Cora, but the woman screeched and raked his face with her fingernails. “Get out!” She pummeled him with her fists, as if she were fighting for her life. And maybe she was. Maybe Stone would punish the woman if she let Duke take Cora, but he didn’t give a damn. Until now, he had never once considered hitting a female, but it was all he could do to hold himself back when this woman jerked Cora’s arm and hauled her toward the open doorway.

  He wrenched her crazed grip off Cora’s elbow, then swept Cora into his arms. The woman came at him again, but he used a straight arm to her chest to knock her back three steps. He headed for the door, feeling every blow she rained across his back, thanking God she hadn’t picked up the candelabra from her table. Her friend was awake and waiting in the kitchen doorway with that damned frying pan, bleeding from the mouth and huffing from his nostrils. With Cora in his arms, Duke was unable to push past without risking injury to her.

  Pivoting on his heel, he grabbed the clawing, fist-swinging witch by her arm, and shoved her into her pan-wielding friend. The pair fell against the kitchen door, giving Duke the opportunity to dash for the front exit. He yanked open the door just as the frying pan bonged off the wall beside him. The crack of a gunshot, and sound of splintering wood, drove him out the door at a dead run.

  With Cora clutched in his arms, he bolted between houses and across yards, over shrubs and through clusters of trees, until he was certain they weren’t being followed. Gasping for breath, he leaned against a dilapidated building and hugged Cora to his pounding chest. Hard sobs shook her body and she gripped his neck.

  “It’s okay, princess. You’re safe now. Daddy’s got you.”

  He stroked her back and let her cry, knowing she needed the comfort, and that he needed the time to catch his breath. His shoulder was killing him, and he had no idea where the hell he was.

  “I don’t want to go b-back there,” she cried.

  “You won’t, princess. Not ever. Daddy’s taking you home.”

  “Is Mama there?”

  “No, she’s waiting for you at a friend’s house.”

  Cora’s face was covered in tears. “Can we see her now?”

  His throat closed and he could only nod, unable to bear the devastation in her eyes.

  She looked at his cheek. “That woman s-scratched you.”

  “It doesn’t hurt.” Nothing hurt but his heart. He pulled out his handkerchief and cleaned her face, and helped her blow her nose. Then he pulled his coat around her and held her against his chest to keep her warm in the cold night.

  “Ready to go?” he asked cheerfully, but inside he raged, wanting to wrap his fingers around Stone’s neck and kill the bastard.

  Duke stayed to the alleys and backyards, trying to avoid walking the streets as he navigated in a northeasterly direction. The neighborhood could only be called dilapidated, the people destitute and desperate, and he wanted to get out of it as soon as possible.

  But Cora’s squeal brought him to a stop. “There’s grandma’s house!” she said, her face lit with wonder as she pointed at a big house on the corner. “Is Mama there?”

  Shocked, Duke looked again at the enormous two-story house. It wasn’t as shoddy as the surrounding homes, several of which were being torn down and the lots cleared, but it was far from what he would want to live in.

  “Can we go there?” Cora asked.

  He nodded, feeling a deep need to see the root of all his troubles.

  They scared off two young boys who were playing on the front stoop. Duke forced the back door, then went through the big house where Faith’s mother and aunts had sold their bodies, and where Faith had used her beautiful hands to give other men pleasure.

  “This is pretty,” Cora said, ogling the gaudy parlor. “Grandma only let me and Adam come in the kitchen.”

  Thank God.

  Other than the loud decor, the house was unremarkable. Still, Duke couldn’t help wondering which room Faith had worked in—and where she’d lost her virginity to Jarvis.

  “Our house is out back,” Cora said, tugging his hand as if she were giving him a tour.

  She showed him a ramshackle greenhouse where Faith had grown her herbs, and where her mother had tended roses. Then Cora showed him the house where she, Adam, and Faith had lived.

  It was a shack.

  A one-room, one-bed, miserable little shack.

  But Cora trotted to the bed like it was her favorite place in the world. “I slept here,” she said importantly. “And Mama and Adam did too.”

  He’d suspected that. Their spare existence outraged him, but Cora seemed to think she’d had a fine house. With a cry of joy, she scrambled off the mattress and dove for something beside the bed. “My book!”

  She lifted the book, and a brush fell to the floor with a clunk, but she was too absorbed with the book to notice. But Duke noticed. He knelt beside Cora, picked up the brush with the silver handle and painted porcelain back, and tucked it into his coat pocket.

  How on earth had Faith survived this?

  Knowing she had spent twenty-five years living in this barren little room sickened him. It must have been a prison. No wonder she had spent her time in the greenhouse. How easy it would have been for a well-traveled man like Jarvis to mislead a desperate girl into believing she was finally getting an opportunity to escape this life.

  “We need to go, princess,” he said.

  “Can I take my book?”

  “Of course. Take whatever you’d like.”

  She rooted between the wall and the mattress like a dog digging for a bone. She found another book and proudly hugged it to her chest as she headed for the door.

  Duke lifted Cora and her two precious books into his arms. He peered out the window to make sure they hadn’t been followed, then stepped outside and closed the door on a place he never wanted Faith, Adam, or Cora to see again.

  “Bye, Grandma.” Cora’s comment confused him, until he saw her waving at a small rosebush behind the shack. “Mama says grandma’s sleeping beneath the rosebus
h now.”

  As much as he wanted to remain indifferent, or silently curse the woman who’d allowed her children to live in such sordid conditions, he couldn’t bring himself to walk past the grave marker. Faith, Adam, and Cora loved her. Even their crazy aunts loved the woman. She must have had some saving graces.

  With Cora tucked inside his coat, Duke knelt by the bush. “I’ll take care of your children for you,” he said, speaking his first words to his mother-in-law.

  Cora reached out and plucked a dried, withered rose from a thorny stem. “Mama will like this,” she said, closing her fingers around the ugly brown flower.

  It was nearly dark when Duke found the lawyer’s house. And not a minute too soon. His shoulder hurt like hell, the scratch marks on his cheek stung, and he was starving.

  Cuvier opened the door before Duke could knock. “I was preparing to come look for you,” he said, hurrying them inside.

  Faith rushed into the foyer, but when she saw Duke holding Cora, she burst into tears and threw her arms around them both.

  “Thank God. Oh . . . thank you, Jesus.”

  “Mama, I got my books!” Cora said, but Faith sobbed too hard to respond. She pulled Cora into her arms and rocked her.

  “Oh, baby, I missed you.”

  Cora buried her face in Faith’s neck. “Daddy says I won’t go back there no more.”

  “You won’t, sweetie. Never again.”

  “I got this for you.” Cora opened her hand to show her the crushed rose that was falling apart. “It was on Grandma’s rosebush.”

  Faith frowned and raised wet eyes to Duke. He nodded to say that Cora wasn’t confused, that they had been to the brothel and he finally understood.

  “Oh, no.” Her lashes swooped down to cover her eyes, but he’d seen the shame in them.

  “Don’t you like it?” Cora asked.

  “Yes, baby. I like it very much.”

  As they clung to each other, Duke began to understand that they were never sisters. From the moment of Cora’s birth, this little girl had been Faith’s daughter.

  And now she was Duke’s daughter.

  He felt small for having judged Faith, for condemning her for keeping secrets and marrying him to secure Adam’s and Cora’s future. She’d chosen that path out of necessity. He couldn’t blame her for that. But still knowing she’d had to marry him, left a hollow hole in his chest.