Out of the Dark

by Sharon Sala

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, as he headed for the back of the house. But before he could get out the door, he saw an armed man climbing onto the top of the garage, then dropping out of sight. A sharpshooter. Johnny’s luck had run out.

  “Come on, Johnny boy…you’ve been in worse spots than this and come out smelling like a rose. Just think. Think. There’s got to be a way.”

  Then it hit him. There were a thousand places to hide in this old house. But he had to make them think he was gone. He dashed back through the rooms and then upstairs, threw everything he’d brought back into his suitcase, then ran back downstairs. They would probably check the attic, but once they found Mabel’s body—and they would find it, of that he was certain—they would never suspect he was hiding in the same place. Without hesitation, he headed for the kitchen. Just as he started down the stairs, he remembered the Vienna sausage can and ran back to the sink. He took it, and the lid, and then dug through the trash can, burying them deep within the depths.

  There was motion toward the front of the house, and he thought he could hear them running on the roof. It was time to go to ground.

  The moment Luke dropped through the window to the basement floor, he knew Mabel was dead. The heat of a Missouri summer and the dark, enclosed cellar had enhanced the putrefaction process. Stifling the need to gag, he took out his handkerchief and held it against his face as he started toward the stairs. Then, to his shock, the door above suddenly opened. He froze, highlighted by the sudden light, then grabbed his gun and took aim. To his surprise, the footsteps that had started his way suddenly stopped. He could hear someone moving around in the room above. It was all the break he needed to take cover. Hoping that Newton would be afraid to turn on any lights in the cellar, he ran for the stairs, then flattened himself in the corner against the wall.

  Johnny grabbed his suitcase and started down the stairs. Mabel’s stench hit him square in the face before he’d pulled the door shut.

  “Oh crap,” he muttered, then coughed and gagged as he stumbled down the stairs on the run.

  There was just enough light coming through the basement windows for him to see the outlines of the doors. He remembered where he’d put Mabel. He damned sure wasn’t opening that one. But there were dozens of cubbyholes. What he needed was a way to get between the walls. He’d seen old houses like this before. In fact, he’d grown up in one. Years of remodeling always left nooks and crannies that no one would suspect were there. All he had to do was find the right—

  “Newton! Drop your gun and don’t move!”

  Johnny squealed out in shock and dropped his suitcase. He spun toward the sound but saw nothing except darkness.

  “Who the hell are you?” he said, waving his gun in front of him as he continued to move back.

  Luke could see the faint outline of a gun and dropped to his knees. He stretched out on the floor until he was flat on his stomach and as far below the range of flying bullets as he could get.

  His finger was steady on the trigger as he waited for a clear shot. Seconds later, Newton silhouetted himself against one of the windows. Luke rose up on his elbow, judged the distance from Newton’s waist to where his knees should be and shot twice.

  Pain splintered Johnny’s mind as he fell. He heard someone screaming as he emptied his gun. But he was unaware that the screams were his own and that his shots had all gone into the ceiling. It wasn’t until he tried to get up and run that he realized he couldn’t move. He started beating his empty gun against the floor and screaming for help.

  Suddenly a long shadow separated itself from the space beneath the stairs and came toward him.

  “Who are you? What the hell have you done?”

  Luke could hear footsteps running through the rooms. They would have heard the shots. It was only a matter of time before they found them. But before they did, he wanted to pass on some good news to Johnny Newton.

  “You looked better in your mug shot,” Luke drawled, as he kicked aside Newton’s empty gun and then leaned over, so that Newton could more clearly see his face.

  “You!” Johnny groaned, and then arched off the floor as the pain from the shattered bones in his knees began to increase. “Fuck, oh, fuck, you sorry bastard. What have you done?”

  “I didn’t kill you,” Luke said; then he pointed his gun at Johnny’s hands. “Someone else has already done the job for me.”

  “Get me a doctor. I’m bleeding to death,” Johnny screamed.

  The footsteps were in the room above them. Luke walked to the foot of the stairs and yelled up.

  “We’re down here!” he called. “Newton is down. I’m unarmed.”

  Then he laid his gun on the stairs and hurried back to Johnny. There were things he wanted to say before they carted the man off.

  “Raphael didn’t die without a fight, did he?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Johnny said. “If you’re a cop, you gotta get me some help.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not a cop,” Luke said. “I’m a friend of Jade Cochrane’s. You killed someone she loved. Who hired you?”

  “Fuck you!” Johnny screamed.

  Luke kicked Johnny’s leg just above the knee. The man screamed at the same time that the cellar door flew open.

  “It’s me. Luke Kelly. Turn on the lights as you come down. My gun is on the last step.”

  Newton cursed as the room filled with cops.

  “He shot me!” he screamed. “Help me before I bleed to death!”

  Luke straightened, then looked at the SWAT team, along with at least a half-dozen cops, all with guns trained on him, as well as Newton.

  “As you can tell from the smell down here, our friend Newton has done away with his hostess before the party was over. I don’t know where she is, but the body you find down here is what’s left of Mabel Tyler, the owner of this property. She was a nice old lady and didn’t deserve to die like this. Also, when you compare DNA, I’m quite certain you will discover that this is the man who murdered Raphael and his nurse at St. Louis Memorial.”

  “To hell with you!” Newton shrieked. “To hell with all of you. I need medical attention.”

  One of the cops got on his radio and told the paramedics, who were waiting above, that the scene had been secured and where to come to find their patient, while the others began a search for Mabel Tyler’s body.

  A couple of cops stood guard over Newton. But Luke wasn’t through with the man yet. He was going to give him something to think about before he left.

  He squatted down beside Newton and pointed to his hands.

  “Raphael got a piece of you before he died, didn’t he?”

  Newton was half out of his head with pain.

  “You mean my hands? Fuck my hands! I’m bleeding here,” he moaned.

  “You’re also dying,” Luke said.

  Newton moaned. “Damn you.”

  “Oh, not from the gunshots. They’ll fix you up. I don’t know whether they can save your legs or not, but they’ll probably save your life…so you can die later.”

  Johnny began to claw at his legs as the paramedics arrived and began mopping up the mess Luke had made of Newton’s body.

  “Shut him up. Make him stop. I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Newton moaned.

  “Sorry, I thought I’d made myself clear,” Luke said. “Those cuts on your hands…they’re from Raphael’s fingernails, right? Well, remember the blood that was all over his body when you were through choking the life out of him? I’d bet my life that a good portion of it got on you…and in those scratches he left on your hands.”

  “So what? So what? The bastard was dying of cancer. I just hurried the process along. Now shut up and leave me alone!”

  “Johnny, Johnny…you’re still missing the point. Yes, Raphael had cancer, and yes, he was dying. But the cancer was just a sidebar to the real reason he was sick. He had full-blown AIDS. Remember all that blood? I’d lay odds it’s now in you, too.”


  The shock of what he’d been told was enough to momentarily block out all Johnny’s pain. In that moment, time seemed to stand still. He thought back to the hospital and the look on that sick bastard’s face as he’d dug his fingernails through the surgical gloves into Johnny’s flesh. Now Johnny knew why he’d been smiling.

  He closed his eyes and started to scream.

  Eighteen

  Sam was sitting quietly, still savoring the joy of hearing his daughter call him Dad. Then he glanced down at Jade. Despite her insistence that she was too worried to sleep, her eyes were closed and she’d gone very still.

  He was thinking about the best way to lay her down without waking her up when suddenly he heard the sounds of what appeared to be a car backfiring. But he knew better. Before he could move, Jade was on her feet. She’d heard it, too.

  She grabbed his arms, her eyes wide with sudden fear.

  “Did you hear that? Were those gunshots?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “It’s Luke,” she said, and then bolted from the room.

  Sam caught her in the hall and pulled her back against his chest.

  “Wait! You have to wait, remember? We have no way of knowing who’s firing at whom. It’s safer up here, away from the possibility of stray bullets.”

  “What if the police didn’t come? What if—”

  “We can see if they’re there from my bedroom window.”

  “Show me,” she begged.

  They both ran to the other wing, uncertain of what they might see.

  “No! Look! It’s okay,” Sam said, as he peered through the drapes. “There are police cars everywhere…and look, there’s the SWAT team van. Luke is certainly not alone. They have everything under control.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered.

  “Come away from the windows,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

  She did as he asked and followed him back to the head of the stairs. When he would have urged her back to her room, she refused.

  “I’ll just wait here,” she said, and sat down on the top step. “That way we can see him when he comes through the door.”

  Sam sat down beside her without comment. He’d already seen through her act. Jade cared more for Luke Kelly than she was ready to admit. All they needed now was for Luke to come back through that door.

  Luke watched the paramedics as they started an IV in Johnny Newton’s wrist, then did what they could to stop the bleeding before they loaded him on a stretcher and carried him up the basement stairs.

  Newton screamed and cursed all the way up and then out of the house, while the officers and detectives who’d stayed behind continued searching for the source of the foul odor in the basement. Luke kept remembering the last time he’d talked to Mabel Tyler. It had been just after Easter, and she’d been telling him a story about the egg hunt they’d had for the children at her church. She’d gotten so much fun out of the children’s antics, which had sent her into a state of reminiscing about her own childhood days, and her regrets that she and Edward had never been able to have children of their own.

  Now, because of Johnny Newton, she was rotting away in some corner of her own basement. It was enough to make Luke regret not killing the sorry bastard.

  Thomas Haley was a homicide detective who’d known Luke for years. He walked over to the steps where Luke was sitting and then thumped him roughly on the back.

  “Damn, Kelly, you did a number on him, didn’t you?”

  “I’m thinking I should have killed him.”

  “But you couldn’t, because he’s not the end of this, is he?”

  “We don’t think so,” Luke said. “Until we know who hired him, Sam Cochrane’s daughter is still not safe.”

  “The chief has been circulating the drawings in the department,” Haley said, and then glanced at Luke to gauge his reaction. “It’s a damn shame what happened to her. It’s a lot worse to think that when all of that comes out, the media is going to have a field day with her.”

  “They already are,” Luke said.

  “Still, it’s damned gutsy of her—and smart, too. Those are almost as good as snapshots. Problem we’re gonna have is that so much time has elapsed. Way I understand it, this happened to her in the span of about six years…from the age of six to about twelve. Is that right?”

  Luke nodded.

  “So we’re looking at almost a twenty-year difference, in some cases. Our problem is going to be that these men will have aged tremendously. Hell, some will have died, others gone bald, gotten fat. You name it.”

  “We can hope that some of them have already been incarcerated.”

  “Yeah,” Haley said. “There’s that. Still, she must be quite a woman to be willing to tell the world.”

  “She’s that and then some,” Luke said.

  Before Haley could say more, one of the officers suddenly gave out a shout.

  “Over here,” he yelled.

  Luke looked up. The officer had opened a small closet door. From where he was sitting, Luke could see the toe of a shoe.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, and then went up the stairs.

  He walked through the rooms, his stride lengthening as he neared the front door. By the time he was outside, he was jogging. As he started across the street, he started to run. He’d dealt with enough death for today. He needed to see Jade, and to tell Sam about Mabel. Damn Johnny Newton. Damn him to hell.

  When Jade heard the front door open, she jumped to her feet.

  Luke was coming through the door as she started down the steps. When he looked up and saw her, the expression on his face made her stumble. But then she caught herself and kept moving toward him.

  Luke took the stairs two at a time. He met Jade halfway and then stopped. She began touching his shoulders, then his chest, running the flat of her hands along his body to assure herself that he was unharmed.

  “We heard shots,” she said softly.

  Luke nodded.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Jade sighed, then leaned forward and put her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

  Luke was stunned. For a moment he was afraid to move for fear of messing up a good thing, but when she didn’t pull back, he took it as a positive sign and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Luke heard footsteps on the stairs. He looked up. Sam was coming toward them.

  “Mabel?” he asked.

  “Sorry, Sam. My best guess is that he killed her within minutes of entering her house.”

  “Poor Mabel,” Sam said. “She was probably scared out of her mind.” He passed Luke and Jade on the stairs as he descended. “I’ve got to call Brooks Bentley. I think he’s still her lawyer. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Dad?”

  The word lifted Sam’s sorrow. “Yes, honey?”

  “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  He touched her briefly, stroking her hair, then the side of her face.

  “And I’m sorry about yours,” he said, then continued down the stairs.

  As soon as they were alone, Luke shifted so that he could see Jade’s face.

  “You called him Dad.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good for you,” he said softly, then kissed the side of her cheek. “At the risk of getting my face slapped, I’m going to remind you that you need to be in bed.”

  “Surely you didn’t expect me to sleep while you were being a hero?”

  Luke shook his head, then ran his finger down the curve of her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin and the startled expression in her eyes.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wanted to kill him. I’ve never had that feeling before. For what he did to Raphael and his nurse, and what he did to Mabel, he deserved to die.”

  “But you didn’t do it.”

  “No…because we n
eed to know who hired him.”

  “He didn’t say?”

  Luke thought about Raphael and the wounds he’d inflicted on Newton’s hands. He’d been fighting back the only way he’d known how. He admired him for that. And he remembered the satisfaction he’d felt in giving Johnny Newton the news about Raphael’s parting gift.

  “We talked about other things,” Luke said. “If the police find out anything, they’ll let us know.”

  “What if he won’t talk? What if whoever hired him finds out he failed and then sends someone else to finish the job?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Luke said.

  Jade looked startled. “Is Sam paying you?”

  “In the beginning, he offered. I turned it down.”

  “And now?”

  Luke slipped a thumb across the inside of her wrist. Her pulse was rapid and irregular. He didn’t like that any more than he did the dark, haunted shadows in her eyes.

  “I’m here because I want to be,” he said gently, then picked her up. “Honey, you’re about to pass out from exhaustion.”

  “I know.”

  “You have to sleep.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “Yes…I know that, too.”

  “Are you afraid?” Luke asked.

  When she answered, her voice was so soft he had to lean over to hear what she said.

  “I don’t think I can sleep without Raphael.”

  Luke started up the stairs with her head bobbing limply against his arm.

  “First time for everything,” he said, and toed the door of her room open, then carried her to the bed.

  Jade rolled over onto her side. Her eyes were closed before Luke finished pulling up the covers.

  Then he leaned over, brushed the hair from her face and kissed the side of her cheek.

  “Luke?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “Will you stay…at least until I go to sleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay then,” she said, and fell through the hole in her mind.

  A few minutes later, Sam tapped lightly on the door. Luke got up from the chair and hurried to answer.