by Sharon Sala
“Wait here,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“No, but it’s something I have to do.”
He nodded, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched her disappear into the adjoining room.
A few moments later the medical examiner returned. He looked at Luke and then shrugged.
“She asked me to leave, too.”
“This is really hard for her,” Luke said.
“Sooner or later, death comes to all of us.”
“Yeah, but we usually have some family left to fall back on. The man lying in there on that slab was the only family Miss Cochrane had for most of her life. In effect, his death is the death of all she’s ever known.”
The ME whistled beneath his breath. “That’s tough.”
“Tough doesn’t cover it,” Luke said, and wished she had not shut him out.
Jade stood beside the slab, trying not to think of the body beneath the sheet. Finally she laid her hand on his head.
“Oh, Rafie…why did it have to come to this?”
He didn’t answer. That was the moment when she accepted that she would never hear his voice again. But even if he couldn’t answer, there were things she needed to say. She straightened a slight wrinkle in the sheet, then laid her hand on his shoulder.
“I wanted you to know that you were right. I am going to get some counseling. The doctor’s name is Antonia DiMatto. You would like her.” She choked on a sob, then patted his arm. “Oh, Rafie…I never told you how much you meant to me. I never said the words that were always in my heart, but I’m saying them now. I just hope you can hear me. You saved my life, over and over, without ever asking for anything for yourself. Before I started painting…before I knew I could draw…I never asked you where the money came from that kept us fed and in warm shelters during the winters. I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to know. I told myself you didn’t—but you did, didn’t you? You did, and it killed you didn’t it?”
Jade lowered her head. “You were always the strong one…always the one with the level head. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, but I’m going to try.”
Then she grabbed the edge of the sheet covering his head and started peeling it back. Inch by painful inch, she pulled until the whole of his face had been revealed. When she saw him, her legs went weak with relief.
Even in death, his face—the chiseled perfection of his features, which had always turned women’s heads—was just as it had been in life. Unblemished.
She kissed him then, one last bittersweet goodbye. Her lips barely brushed the pale, cold skin of his brow; then she pulled the sheet back over his head and walked away.
Sixteen
Sam was in the living room, watching for Luke and Jade to return, when he happened to look across the street. He stared for a moment, then moved closer to the window. Something was different at Mabel Tyler’s house, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. The yard had been freshly mowed. The flowers in the large urns on her front porch were blooming nicely. Mabel always did have a green thumb. As he looked, it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen her in days. Of course, he’d been so preoccupied with everything else, it stood to reason. And Mabel was a very private person. She would never have insinuated herself into the trauma that was going on in Sam’s life. Still, he made a mental note to give her a call tomorrow, after everything settled down here. She and her husband had been good friends and neighbors, and even though Edward had been dead for years, he felt a responsibility to make sure Mabel was all right.
Before he could follow up his thoughts, a black Lexus turned the corner at the end of the street. That would be Luke and Jade! Breathing a sigh of relief, he headed for the door.
Someone had tipped off the media that Jade Cochrane had been to the morgue. As a result, they were once more gathering in the vicinity of the Cochrane home.
“Looks like the vultures are back,” Luke said, as he turned the corner near Sam’s property.
Jade was only vaguely aware of the camera crews lined up on both sides of the street. Suddenly someone aimed a camera in her direction, and she flinched, as if they had pointed a gun.
Luke saw her jump. “Honey…you okay?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Sorry. That was a stupid question.”
She looked down at her hands, staring at the length and shape of them in the patch of sunlight coming through the windows.
“He used to tell me they were magic.”
“What was magic?”
Jade blinked, a little startled. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked.
“You said they were magic. I asked you what you were talking about.
“I didn’t know I’d said that aloud,” she said, then leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. For a moment there was silence, then a quick, indrawn breath. “My hands. Raphael always said they were magic because I could draw.”
“It’s a gift,” Luke said.
She shrugged off the compliment. “It kept us fed.”
“It’s more than that. It was also the impetus that enabled your father to find you.”
“I suppose, but that gift also got people killed. I can’t forget that.”
“God forbid,” he muttered.
Jade frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You aren’t responsible.”
“Yes, I am. Raphael is dead. So is the poor nurse we hired to tend him. They’re dead because of me.”
“Unless you’re the person who hired the killer, you are in no way responsible.”
“If you hadn’t found us, then—”
“Oh…so now it’s my fault? Why? Because I found you, or because I talked you into coming back to St. Louis? No wait. I know. It’s all of the above.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jade said.
“Yes, it is, just like your reasons. Why do you always take responsibility for whatever’s happening, even when it’s out of your control?”
“I don’t always do that,” Jade said.
“Bullshit,” Luke said.
Jade gasped, then glared.
He ignored her.
“We’re here,” he said, and wheeled into the driveway leading to Sam’s house, then parked. He hurried around to Jade’s door, but she was already getting out of the car. Luke knew he’d made her mad. He didn’t care. At least it was an emotion he could deal with. Constantly blaming herself for the bad stuff that happened in her life was nothing more than a symptom of someone who’d been repeatedly abused.
She stalked toward the house without looking back at Luke. The pain in her gut was so fierce that she thought she might die, and he’d cursed at her. If she’d had something in her hand, she would have thrown it at him. How dare he belittle her part in this horror? How dare he belittle her?
Her hand was on the doorknob when Sam opened it. She hurried inside.
“Glad you’re home,” Sam said. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Are you all right?”
Jade stopped. Home? All right? She looked at him then, and the sympathy on his face was too much. It was either hysterics or anger. When Sam continued to talk, she opted for the anger.
“Is there anything I can do? We can talk about a funeral service when—”
She held up her hand, instantly silencing him.
“There will be no funeral service. It would be nothing but more fodder for those vultures out there in their vans, capturing grief with their cameras from people they don’t even know, then delivering it up to the country as they eat their evening meals. I will not be someone’s entertainment! No one knew Raphael but me, and I will not see him put in a box and buried in the ground. He hated small spaces.”
Luke walked into the foyer just as Jade delivered her ultimatum.
“Hey!”
She pivoted angrily, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Don’t take your anger out on your father just because you’re pisse
d off at me,” Luke said. “He offered help. Tell him what you want.”
“What I want? What do I want? Since you know so much, then you tell me. What is it that I want, Luke Kelly?”
He stood for a moment, letting his own anger cool and, for the first time, seeing the barely hidden panic in her eyes. She was scared half out of her mind, but he couldn’t help her if she wouldn’t let him.
With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the car keys back to Sam.
“Thanks for the loan of the car. Call me if you need me.”
“But how are you getting home?” Sam asked.
“That’s my problem,” he said, and then pointed at Jade. “She’s yours.”
He strode out of the house, slamming the door behind him as he went.
When the door slammed, Jade felt as if she’d just been slapped. It brought her back to her senses, but not in time to apologize to all concerned. She would start with Sam and deal with Luke Kelly later.
“Sam…I’m sorry. Luke was right.”
“About what?” Sam said.
“I don’t know why, but I keep shutting out the very people who keep trying to help me.”
Sam shook his head. “No need to apologize, dear. I know you’re hurting. If you need anything, will you let me know?”
She nodded, then impulsively hugged him. As soon as his arms enfolded her, her panic began to fade. And because the fear was lessening, she felt comfortable enough to explain.
“Once, when we were much younger, Raphael and I were in L.A. We had no money, and we were camping out in the hills above the canyons. It was late summer, and everything was hot and really dry. Somehow a brush fire got started. I smelled the smoke and ran to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The fire was eating through the brush down in those valleys like crazy. I was so scared and certain we would die in it. But Raphael got me out of harm’s way, then made me sit and watch it, pointing out the power of the blaze and then the aftermath of what was left behind. He said that fire wasn’t always bad, that sometimes it was necessary to clean up things that had gone untended.”
She pulled out of his embrace, then looked up, searching his face for understanding.
Sam recognized her anger as nothing more than a shield to hide how she really felt, and he understood what she was trying to say.
“Yes, fire can be cleansing. You want to have him cremated, don’t you?” he asked.
She closed her eyes against the thought, then finally nodded.
“Then it will be done.”
“I need to be alone. Can you understand?”
“Yes.”
She started toward the stairs, then stopped and turned around. She’d forgotten something.
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She was halfway up the stairs when this time Sam called out to her.
“Jade?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not going anywhere, so if you need me, just let me know.”
Her eyelids felt so heavy that she could barely keep them open. All the sounds around her mingled into a roar, until the only thing she could recognize was the erratic thump of her heartbeat in her ears. She tried to answer, then finally managed a nod. It took everything she had to get herself the rest of the way up the stairs and into her room. Once there, she wanted to undress. She needed to wash the smell of the morgue from her hair and her skin. Maybe then she could forget where she’d left Raphael. If so, then she could pretend this hell hadn’t happened.
She got as far as stepping out of her shoes; then she moaned. The sound shattered what was left of her control, and she fell to her knees on the floor. The image of Raphael’s face was haunting her as badly as the faces from her dreams, only this time for a different reason. Before, he had urged her to put the faces on paper so that she could forget about them. But this time she was afraid that, with the passage of time, Raphael’s face would blur in her memory.
“Oh…oh…I cannot bear this.”
She laid the palms of her hands against her breasts, but the pressure did nothing to stifle the pain. Slowly understanding came, and she knew what she had to do.
Draw him. Draw him so you never forget.
She crawled to the table, pulled her drawing pad and a charcoal pencil from off the top, and then sat cross-legged on the floor.
Within minutes, the face she was drawing became recognizable. She wouldn’t draw him the way she’d last seen him—lying still and cold on that metal table. She would draw him alive…full of life. She started with the beginning of a twinkle in his eyes and a tilt to the corner of his mouth, just the way he always looked at her when she’d done something foolish. That was the Raphael she wanted to remember. That was the man she would never forget.
Johnny Newton walked through the darkened rooms of Mabel Tyler’s house, turning on lights as he went. It was just after nine o’clock in the evening, and he was hungry. He thought about getting in his car and going out to have something to eat, but instinct told him to lie low.
Still riding on the high of a successful hit, he dug through Mabel’s freezer, wanting something sweet. And he found it. A small carton of Chunky Monkey ice cream. He grabbed it and a spoon, then went back through the house, turning off lights, just as he’d turned them on before.
Once upstairs, he settled down in front of the television, opened the carton of ice cream and took his first bite. There was a bit of freezer burn on the surface, but he quickly ate past that. So the old lady didn’t use up her food as quickly as she should. So what. He would do it for her.
He aimed the remote between bites, channel surfing for something interesting to watch, and finally settled for old game shows from the seventies and eighties.
“Those were the days,” Johnny said to himself, then took another bite of ice cream.
He was almost through eating when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned. It was that damned Frank Lawson again. Didn’t he watch the news? But the phone continued to ring, and finally he answered it with a curse.
“What the hell do you want?”
Big Frank was taken aback and for a moment couldn’t think what to say.
“Look, I know it’s you, so start talking before you totally piss me off,” Johnny muttered.
Big Frank got a little pissed himself. “Look, you little asshole. I don’t know what’s got your tail in a knot, but it damned sure isn’t me.”
“Don’t you watch the news?” Johnny snapped. “Your man is dead…just like you wanted.”
“Yes, I watch the news, and yes, I already knew that. It’s not why I’m calling.”
“I’ll do the woman by tomorrow,” Johnny said. “Then I’m out of here.”
“Fine,” Frank said. “But the reason I called is to ask you how much it would cost me to add one more name to the list.”
Johnny sat up straight and set the empty ice-cream carton aside.
“What’s the name and where’s the location?”
“Los Angeles. There’s a man going by the name of Otis Jacks. Owns a film studio that makes porn. I want him gone.”
Johnny smiled to himself. “It’s gonna cost you.”
“How much?”
“One hundred thousand.”
“Fine.”
Johnny frowned. From the sound of it, he could have asked for more and gotten it. Still, it was a nice chunk of change for the price of a bullet.
“Got an address on this Jacks fellow?” He reached for a pen.
A few minutes later, he hung up, then tossed the phone aside and took the ice-cream carton to the kitchen and dumped it in the trash. Tonight was going to be busy. He figured he’d better get some sleep now.
It had been hours since Luke had seen or heard anything from the Cochrane home, and he’d spent them in misery, wishing he and Jade hadn’t parted company in anger, yet knowing that he could not, in good conscience, have responded any other way.
> But now he had an excuse to go over there. He had just gotten a call from Earl Walters, telling him that he could pick up a copy of Johnny Newton’s mug shot. They needed to know if he was someone Jade knew. If not, then he’d been hired by someone else, which meant she needed to see the picture.
He reached for the phone and dialed Sam’s number. The moment Sam answered, Luke could tell something was wrong.
“Luke…thank God. I’ve been on the verge of calling you, but I hated to bother you with family problems.”
Luke’s fingers tightened around the receiver.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jade. She won’t come out of her room. Every time I got up to check on her, I could hear her pacing…and talking to herself. A couple of hours ago, Velma tried to take her some food, but she didn’t respond. I don’t know when she last ate or slept, and I’m at my wits’ end.”
“Did you call Antonia DiMatto?”
“Yes. She says it’s grief and to let Jade work it out her own way. But I’m afraid.”
Luke frowned. “Are you saying you’re afraid Jade will hurt herself?”
Sam’s hesitation before responding was answer enough for Luke.
“Look,” Luke said. “If I know one thing about your daughter, it’s that she’s a survivor. She hasn’t quit on herself once, despite all that she’s been through. Don’t sell her short, Sam. She’s grieving, not plotting suicide.”
“Yes, I think I knew that, I just needed to hear someone else say it. Sorry to burden you with our troubles. Why did you call?”
“It’s not a burden, Sam. I care, probably more than I should.” Then he sighed and blurted it out, knowing what he’d been feeling had to be said. “I’m doing something Raphael told me not to do,” he said.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“Falling for your daughter.”
Sam frowned. “Why on earth would he say something like that? I would be overjoyed.”
“I think because he knew what a challenge it would be for Jade ever to trust, let alone be intimate with, another man. He didn’t want her hurt. Neither do I.”
Sam sighed. “Thank you for being so frank with me. I’m not doing so well as a father, so I’m hardly in a position to criticize.”