Out of the Dark (32 page)

Suddenly Frank’s lunch was at the back of his throat, threatening to come up. Someone was whimpering. It took him a few moments to realize the sounds were coming out of him. If ever there was a time to play his hole card, this was it.

“I want to make a deal,” he mumbled, the handcuffs banging against the top of the table as he reached toward Detective Brewster.

“You don’t have anything I want,” Luke said.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Frank said. “I know Solomon. I know where he is.”

Luke’s expression sharpened. “Like hell.”

“It’s true! I swear!” Frank cried. Then he grabbed Paul Gorman’s arm. “Tell them! Tell them we’ll deal. I’ll give them Solomon if they’ll keep that part of my business out of the papers.”

Luke had his hands on Lawson before the detectives even knew he’d moved.

“You’ll tell me where he is, or you won’t live to go to trial,” Luke whispered.

“Not until we deal. Not until we deal!”

Both detectives grabbed Luke and pulled him back. He immediately turned Lawson loose.

“He’s fine,” Luke snapped, as he shrugged out of their grasp.

“He threatened me,” Lawson whined.

“That wasn’t a threat. It was a promise,” Luke said.

Frank looked wild-eyed from one man to the other. None of them were saying anything. Finally he threw up his cuffed hands in self-defense.

“Look! Jade wasn’t the only one he sold. There were dozens of kids in that cult. Boys and girls. And I wasn’t the only one who knew what was going on. Solomon had plenty of customers.”

Brewster was frowning as he looked at Luke.

“Who the hell is Solomon?”

Luke sighed, then shoved his hands through his hair in mute frustration. He didn’t want to make any kind of deal with Frank Lawson, but he could see one coming.

“Back in the seventies, there was a commune…a cult…call it what you want, but they called themselves the People of Joy. They were led by a man named Solomon. Margaret Cochrane, Jade’s mother, got involved and took her daughter with her when she ran away with them. Jade was four. Two years later, Margaret died of some drug overdose, leaving her little girl in the hands of those people. Instead of getting the child back to her father, Solomon took her, as well as the other children there, and repeatedly sold them to pedophiles. Jade said the children called them uncles. When she was twelve, a man she knew only as Uncle Frank cut her, damn near killing her. After that, she and another kid, a boy named Raphael, ran away. They’d been on the move until…well, the media took the story of her being reunited with her father and plastered it all over the national news. I’m guessing that when good old Uncle Frank, who had an agenda all his own, realized that same little girl was alive and all grown up, he panicked. It wouldn’t do to have skeletons like her rattling around in his closet this close to election day, right, Frank?”

Brewster eyed Frank.

“Is this true? Did this Solomon keep the children prisoners?”

“I don’t know what he did with them. I didn’t live there,” Frank said. “But I know where he is, and I know the name he’s living under.”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat, but he wouldn’t let himself hope. “If Solomon is as tuned in to current events as you were, there’s no guarantee he’s still there.”

“Mr. Kelly, we’re now looking at Federal kidnapping charges,” Brewster said. “I’m going to ask you to leave now. We need to question Mr. Lawson further regarding this turn of events.”

“Where is he?” Luke asked, completely ignoring Brewster’s demands.

Frank looked wildly from one cop to the other. “Do we have a deal?”

“Tell me,” Luke said. “Do it now, or I go to the papers with everything.”

Brewster was pushing Luke toward the door.

“Lawson, if I walk out of here, your days of breathing are numbered,” Luke warned.

“Los Angeles!” Frank yelled. “He owns a porn studio called Shooting Star or Rising Star or something like that. He goes by the name of Otis Jacks. And I know he’s going to leave the country.”

Luke groaned, wondering if it was already too late. “What country? Where was he going?”

Frank grabbed his lawyer’s arm again. “For God’s sake, speak up you son-of-a-bitch! What the hell am I paying you for if I’m the one who’s doing all the negotiations?”

“Good question,” Gorman said. “I cannot, in good faith, represent you anymore. I have three daughters, which biases me against giving you fair representation. And off the record, if you did what that man says you did, then I hope you rot in hell.”

Lawson gasped. He jumped up from his chair.

“You can’t do this!” he shrieked. “You’re all railroading me. I have a constitutional right to fair representation.”

Brewster’s partner grabbed Lawson by the arm and yanked him back toward the chair.

“Sit down, Mr. Lawson, before I put you down.”

“I can get a phone number.” Luke said. “I want more.”

Frank moaned. “You can’t do this to me. It’s not fair.”

It took every ounce of control Luke had not to put his hands around Lawson’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.

“You had your chance,” Luke said. “And just so you know, there’s a rumor that someone has already leaked the faces to the media.”

“What faces?” Frank asked.

Luke grinned. “Oh. Didn’t anyone tell you? Jade Cochrane grew up to be quite an artist. She has a formidable file of drawings of the men who defiled her. They’re very good. Close to photographic in quality.” Then he stuck his hand in his pocket. “Here, want to see yours?”

He tossed the picture down on the table.

Frank took one look at it and started to cry. “You don’t understand. I don’t do that sort of thing anymore. I was into drugs back then. I did things I don’t even remember. It was the drugs. Not me. I would never—”

Luke opened the door and walked out.

Frank started yelling.

“323-555-2390. It’s Jacks’ cell phone number. Call it. You’ll see. Just don’t let them put me in prison with…I don’t want to die.”

Luke kept on walking. The two detectives were right behind him.

“Listen, Kelly. This has become a federal investigation. Sounds like the kid was held hostage after her mother’s death. If so, that becomes kidnapping, which is a federal offense. Stay out of it. It’s none of your business.”

Luke just kept walking.

“Where are you going?”

“And that is none of
your
business,” Luke said, then he took out his cell phone, glanced at his watch, and called the pilot of Sam’s jet. If they were lucky, they should arrive at LAX before dark.

As soon as they were in the air, Luke made a call to Earl Walters, filling him in on everything that had taken place. Earl quickly transferred Luke to Detective Myers of the St. Louis P.D., who was heading the Newton investigation.

“Detective, I’d really appreciate any help you can give me. If Frank Lawson is telling the truth, then we probably have a very narrow window of time in which to get Otis Jacks before he disappears. From what Lawson said, he must be a master at reinventing himself.”

“Happy to oblige,” Myers said. “How can we help?”

“I’m on my way to L.A. now. Call the LAPD, tell them the situation, maybe fax them a copy of the drawing Jade did of Jacks, the man she calls Solomon. He runs some porn studio by the name of Rising Star or Shooting Star…. Law son wasn’t clear on that. See if they can get an address for his home or office and pick him up. If you would keep me posted as to their progress, I would appreciate it.”

“Will do,” Myers said. “And good luck.”

“Oh, by the way,” Luke said. “How is Johnny Newton?”

“He’ll live to go to prison.”

“Pity,” Luke drawled.

Myers grinned. Normally he wouldn’t have appreciated someone outside the precinct involving himself in their business like this, but Kelly had been a cop. And this was a personal mission. He understood that.

“Yeah, a real pity,” Myers said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

They disconnected quickly, after which Luke promptly made a call to Jade.

Jade hadn’t intended to do anything more than look through the art supplies in her new studio. But the moment she’d picked up some of the brushes and felt the soft, perfect sable bristles, she’d been lost. She’d gone back to her room, found the sketch pad with the drawing she’d done of Luke asleep by her bed and hurried back upstairs.

Within the hour, she’d started a portrait of him. Just the simple act of recreating his face was comforting. The scent of oil paint filled the air. The only sounds that could be heard were the sweep of brush to canvas and the occasional squeak of a loose board beneath Jade’s feet as she moved around the easel. It was her habit to study a work from every angle as she painted, making sure that no matter where a person stood, it seemed the subject was looking straight at him. It was a trick of light and shadow and had to do with the eyes, but it was something in which she took pride.

As the face began to take shape, Jade would occasionally speak to Luke, as if he were sitting for the portrait. They were nothing but small, offhand remarks that required no answers but were soothing to her just the same.

It wasn’t until her head began to hurt that she realized she’d been squinting. She looked up and then around, surprised to see that the sun was close to setting. Stretching her back, she gave the unfinished portrait a judgmental look, then began to clean her brushes.

She was on her way downstairs to clean up before dinner with Sam when she heard him calling up to her. She leaned over the landing.

“I’m here.”

“Darling…Luke is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

“I’ll take it in my room,” she said, and then dashed back down the hall. Her heart was pounding as she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

Luke began to smile. “Hello, honey. I miss you.”

She hugged herself as she crawled up on the bed. “I miss you, too,” she said shyly. “What’s happening? Are you on the way home?”

“No, but I wish I was. I’m on my way to L.A.”

“You didn’t go to Nashville?”

“I did.”

There was a catch in her breath, then Luke heard her ask, “Did you see the man…the man named Frank Lawson?”

“Yes.”

“Was it…is he…?”

“Yes.”

Without thinking, she laid her hand over the top of her scar.

“Oh my God.” Her voice started to shake. “All these years, and I thought maybe Raphael had killed him. He beat him so bad. We never talked about it, but we thought it just the same. Is he…did he hire that man to kill us?”

“Yes, but he’s locked up, baby, and he’s not going anywhere.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She started breathing a little easier. Luke hadn’t lied to her yet, and she had no reason to think he would start now.

“So why aren’t you coming home?”

“It’s a little complicated. Frank Lawson had some information we hadn’t expected.”

“Like what?”

“He says he knows where Solomon is.”

Luke heard her gasp, then nothing.

“Jade? Honey?”

“I’m here.” Then she shuddered. “I feel like every nightmare I ever had is coming to life.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you through this. But this is important. There’s a chance he’s trying to get out of the country and I can’t let that happen.”

“I just want you to come home.”

“I know, honey, and so do I. We have lots of things to talk about.”

“I’m painting again…and I asked Daddy to call Dr. DiMatto. I thought maybe I should…you know.”

Luke sighed. He knew how hard it was for her to talk about her past. But it was going to be the key to her recovery.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“I want to be well.”

“And you will be. Tell Sam I’ll call him when I know something more.”

“Yes. All right.”

“Jade…honey?”

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

She closed her eyes, hugging the words close to her heart.

“I love you, too,” she said softly.

The line hummed in her ear.

O
tis was watching the departure board when the signs began to change. He stared at the words in disbelief as, one by one, the post next to all flights changed to read Canceled. Canceled. Canceled. Canceled.

He jumped to his feet in disbelief.

“No,” he moaned, and dashed toward the gate. “What’s happening? You can’t do this! You don’t understand! I’ve got to leave for Switzerland today!”

The attendant pointed to the television screen.

“Sir, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

Otis turned around and then dashed toward the set, standing close enough so that he heard the news anchor’s voice.

“A major storm front is moving down out of the mountains and into L.A. All flights in and out of L.A., as well as the surrounding areas, have been delayed.”

Otis shook his head in disbelief, then started to curse. He beat his fists against his legs, then threw his carry-on as far as it would go. He was still cursing when airport security grabbed him from behind.

“Sir. You need to come with us.”

Otis jerked, then started to struggle. “No, no, I can’t. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

“No, sir. You’re not going anywhere right now.”

As they began to lead him through the airport, he remembered his bag—the one he’d thrown.

“My bag! My bag! I need to get my bag!”

“We have it,” the guard said, and held up Otis’s carry-on.

Otis stumbled. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? I was upset because my flight was canceled. I just lost my temper, you know?” Then he tried to laugh. “You guys know how it is. You have a bad day…you let off a little steam…and it’s over, right? Well that’s all it was…just letting off a little steam.”

They didn’t answer, but they took his identification, and they didn’t let him go.

He muttered to himself all the way through the terminal, but when they took him through a door that was off limits to everyone but security, he knew he was in trouble.

“I’m calling my lawyer,” he threatened. “You can’t treat people like this and get away with it.”

One of the guards pushed him through a pair of double doors and then unlocked another door to a small room, while another got on a call phone, verifying his ID.

“Actually, sir, yes we can. At the least, you disturbed the peace. At the most, your rampage frightened passengers and gave us reason to suspect that you may be unstable and a danger to others.”

Then the other guard spoke. “Sir, there seems to be a question about your identity. You will be detained here until the arrival of Federal agents, at which time, they will question you further. Apparently, ‘Mr. Handleman,’ you’ve been dead for six years.”

At that moment, Otis knew he was fucked.

He sat down in the only chair in the room, leaned his head back against the wall and started to laugh. He had to. It was either that or off himself. And since his hands were cuffed behind his back and his natural instinct for survival precluded him from holding his breath long enough to die, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Captain Warren, there’s a call for you from a Captain Myers with the St. Louis P.D.”

“I’ll take it in my office,” Warren said, and hurried inside. He tossed a stack of paperwork on his desk and then leaned across a lamp to reach the phone. “Captain Myers, this is Joe Warren. How can I help you?”

“Captain Warren, I’ll be brief, because we have reason to believe that time in this situation is at a minimum. We have information that a man living in your city under the name of Otis Jacks is connected to a case we’re working, which includes three murders, kidnapping and pimping children to child molesters.”

“Good God,” Warren muttered. “Is that all?”

“We’re not sure. Our information is sketchy, but we believe he’s trying to leave the country. He supposedly was running a porn studio named Shooting Star or Rising Star. During the late seventies and early eighties, he headed a cult that called themselves the People of Joy. This is where the kidnapping and pimping took place. Are you familiar with the Jade Cochrane case out here in St. Louis?”

“Is that the prodigal daughter story…some kid returned after twenty years?”

“Yes. From the age of six until twelve, when she finally escaped, Jade Cochrane was at the mercy of this man who called himself Solomon. We’ve already arrested a man in Tennessee for hiring a hit man to kill both Jade and the friend who helped her run away. He allegedly molested her over a period of time, and when he heard that she’d been returned to the fold, so to speak, he was afraid she’d ruin his career. If you can believe it, the bastard was running for governor. The hit man, a man named Johnny Newton, got to Jade’s friend. Newton killed him and his nurse, as well as an elderly woman whose home he used for a stakeout.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“There’s a man named Luke Kelly who’s flying in on a private jet. He should be landing at LAX within an hour or so. Once he arrives, he will corroborate what I’m telling you. He’s an ex-cop with a personal interest in Miss Cochrane. However, if you could locate Otis Jacks and pick him up for questioning, it would save us all a lot of time and worry. If this bastard gets out of the country, it will be a terrible injustice to all the children he helped to destroy.”

“I’ll put my best men on it,” Warren said. “In the meantime, fax me everything you have.”

“Pictures of Solomon are already being faxed as we speak. They’re of the man as he looked twenty years ago, but they’re all we have.”

“I’ll let you know what we find out,” Warren said, then hung up the phone, walked out of his office and pointed to two of his best detectives.

“Ruiz. Drury. We need to talk.”

Amelia Ruiz and Fred Drury got up from their desks and followed the captain into his office. Within minutes, they were on their way out with the fax of Jade’s drawing of Solomon.

Amelia Ruiz was a short, slim Latino with a body that wouldn’t quit. She had worked vice before she’d transferred to homicide and knew of Otis Jacks by reputation. She also knew where Shooting Star Productions was located, so she and her partner headed toward the Hollywood hills.

Drury was fond of teasing Ruiz about her previous work. He knew that she’d often gone undercover as a prostitute. She ignored his teasing, just like she’d ignored the remarks about her looks and her body. It wasn’t easy being a cop when you looked like a miniature centerfold.

“So, do you know this Jacks by sight?” Drury asked.

“No.”

“That drawing is good, but a man’s looks can change after all those years.”

“I’d sure like to take him down,” Ruiz said. “I know the seventies were all about free love and drugs, but what this Solomon did to those kids is disgusting. Do we know for sure that Otis Jacks is Solomon?”

“The captain said their information came from a man who’s already been arrested for murder. I’m thinking maybe he wanted to make a deal just to lighten his sentence.”

“Maybe, but then how would he have known about Solomon’s existence?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Captain did say that he brought that up himself, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, so let’s see what we see and hope for the best,” Drury said.

A short while later, they pulled up to the iron security gates at Shooting Star Productions and buzzed the intercom.

“Shooting Star Productions. Do you have an appointment?” a woman asked.

Drury leaned out the window and flashed his badge toward the security camera.

“LAPD. We need to talk to Otis Jacks.”

“Oh, Mr. Jacks isn’t here anymore,” she said. “He put the studio up for sale about three days ago. McAfee and Sons are handling the sale. I don’t know where Mr. Jacks went.”

“Do you have a home address or phone number for him?” Drury asked.

“Is he in trouble?” she asked.

“Are you?” Drury countered. “I can get a search warrant and put everyone in there out of a job pretty quick if I want to.”

There was a brief shuffling of papers, then the woman answered.

“His address is 15582 Canyon Drive in Encino.”

“How about a phone number?”

She rattled that out quickly, then clicked off.

Drury glanced at Ruiz and then shrugged. “Well, we can hope she doesn’t call him and warn him we’re coming, or we can call this in and see if the local P.D. will do a drive by and see if he’s home.”

“I vote for the drive by. I’d really hate to lose this character.”

“Me too. Call it in.”

Ruiz made the call as Drury started back down the hillside from the studio. While Ruiz was on the radio, Drury got on his cell phone and had the office pull all the records on Otis Jacks’ phones. It would be interesting to see who he had called in the past few days.

They were on the freeway and heading to Encino when they got the word that Otis Jacks’ apartment was vacant. Some of his belongings were still there, but a large portion of his clothes looked to be gone. They had also found a scratch pad with the phone number of LAX.

Ruiz quickly began making calls, trying to find out if there was a man named Otis Jacks scheduled to go out on any flights. When she learned the flights had been delayed, she grinned.

“We just got ourselves a break,” she said. “Look at the sky.”

Drury glanced up, then out the window. “Storm is coming. So what?”

“Flights have been delayed, but there’s no Otis Jacks scheduled to travel. Gives us time to follow up on something else.”

“Like what?” Drury asked.

“Like maybe he’s using another identity,” Ruiz said. “He used to call himself Solomon. Then Otis Jacks. Maybe he’s branching out again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Drury agreed. “So who do we know who’s capable of forging prime IDs to get someone overseas?”

“I know of one or two,” Ruiz said. “Let’s get copies of those phone records and see if we come up with a match.”

“Good idea,” Drury said, and took the exit off of the freeway and headed back to the station.

Sam was on his way up to his room to change for dinner when he noticed the door to Jade’s old room was ajar. He started to close it; then something told him to look inside. She was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed and her old pink blanket clutched under her chin. She jumped when the door moved, then relaxed when she saw it was him.

“Hello, darling,” Sam said. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Want some company?”

She nodded.

He sat down at the foot of the bed, then turned to face her.

“Luke told you about Solomon and Frank, didn’t he?” she asked.

“Yes. Is that what’s bothering you?”

She laid the small blanket aside, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“I’m overwhelmed. I’ve spent most of life in hiding, only to have most of my ghosts show up all at once.”

“I can only imagine how you feel. I don’t think I can grasp the immensity of what it means to you.”

She looked down at the tiny print on the coverlet, absently rubbing her fingers over the slightly raised designs.

“You used to do that when you were little,” Sam said.

She looked up. “Do what?”

“Feel textures and shapes. Your mother had a pale blue chenille robe that you used to love. She wore it most nights when she was putting you to bed. You used to run your fingers over and over it.”

Jade smiled. Even though she didn’t remember doing that, it was comforting to think she had a history with this man. Then her thoughts shifted as she sat up straight and looked—really looked—at her dad.

“You know something, Daddy? You’re very handsome.”

Sam was a bit taken aback. “Why, thank you, honey.”

“I’ll bet you had lots of opportunities over the years to remarry. Why didn’t you?”

He took her hand then, unaware that his smile was as sad as, if not sadder than the expression in his eyes.

“I guess because I loved your mother.”

“Do you still?”

He thought about it, then frowned. “I love the memories of the times we had, but since your return, my feelings for her have certainly gone through a transformation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sam said. “All those years, I consoled myself with the thought that you two were alive and well and, if not living together, were in constant contact as parents and children should be. What she did to you was so careless…so thoughtless…and brought you to such unimaginable harm, that I can never think of her the same way again.” Then he patted her hand to soften the blow. “Having said that, I must congratulate you on growing into such a marvelous woman. She would have been proud of you, as I am.”

“Oh, Daddy, I wish I was as proud of myself as you are.”

“You will be,” Sam said.

She glanced at him quickly, then looked away. The silence grew between them until she finally spoke.