Sharon Sala - Out Of The Dark

Out Of The Dark

Book Jacket

Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author SHARON SALA

"Once again, does a first-rate job at blending richly developed characters and inspired plotting into an unforgettable read." -Romantic Times on Dark Water

"Well-developed secondary characters and a surprising ending spice up Sala's latest romantic intrigue." -Publishers Weekly on Snowfall

"Ms. Sala draws you in from the very beginning. She delivers main characters who will touch your hearts and quirky secondary characters who will intrigue you as you try to figure out whodunit." -Romantic Times on Butterfly

"Spellbinding narrativeSala lives up to her reputation with this well-crafted thriller." -Publishers Weekly on Remember Me

Sharon Sala has a "rare ability to bring powerful and emotionally wrenching stories to life." -Romantic Times

Also by Sharon Sala

DARK WATER

SNOWFALL

BUTTERFLY

REMEMBER ME

REUNION

SWEET BABY

Watch for Sharon Sola's next romantic suspense Coming November 2004 from MIRA Books

MIRA Books is also proud to publish Sharon Sala under the pseudonym DINAH McCALL

Watch for MIMOSA GROVE Coming April 2004

SHARON SALA

Out Of The Dark

CONTENTS

MIRA

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

MIRA

ISBN 1-55166740-1

Copyright 2003 by.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction of utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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Printed in U.S.A.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I struggled through the writing of this book in a way that I've never done before. The tragedies of incurable illnesses and child abuse seem impossible to comprehend, let alone to find a way to acknowledge. But acknowledge them we must, because they come to us despite every good intention we have.

Once having acknowledged them, we must then strive to find answers, and after answers, solutions. All the money, all the research and all the commitment in the world will not solve a thing until we first search within ourselves to see what it is that makes us look away instead of reach out.

Know that anyone can become a victim of illness or crime; for shame to those who blame and denounce a disease as just punishment for a certain lifestyle, when in truth, disease has no boundaries. And for shame to all who blame crime on poverty and lack of education, when we know it comes from every walk of life.

And so I dedicate this book to those who have been stricken with diseases that have no cures, and to the children who have suffered hell on earth from abuse at others' hands. Fate was often not kind to you, but know that we have cried for you when you could not cry for yourself.

One

St. Louis, Missouri-1977

It was just after midnight when Margaret Cochrane opened her eyes to look at the face of her sleeping husband. She'd been Sam Cochrane's wife for seven years and Jade's mother for four, and once she'd loved Sam Cochrane more than life. But during the past year, she'd struggled unsuccessfully to hide her unhappiness with herself and with life. Times were changing. The country had been at war for years in a land she could barely pronounce. Young men had abdicated their military duty by escaping to countries outside of the U.S. to keep from being drafted. People Margaret's age had staged sit-ins in protest, burned flags and marched on Washington, D.C. She felt as if life had passed her by. She had so wanted to be a part of it-to make a change in the world. But her responsibilities as a wife and mother had precluded those options. To satisfy her emotional drought, she had decided to enroll in a self-realization course at a local community college.

Then one day, less than two weeks into the course, she had taken a shortcut across the campus greens to the bus stop and found the path blocked by a large gathering of people. She'd seen their kind before, but never up close. Both men and women wore their hair long and hanging loose about their faces. Some had flowers woven into their hair; others carried bouquets and handed out a flower to anyone who wandered by. They dressed like gypsies from some Hollywood movie, in bright, colorful fabrics-the women in dresses that brushed against their ankles, the men in tight pants and long psychedelic print shirts that hung halfway to their knees. They referred to themselves as the People of Joy and were led by a man who called himself Solomon.

Margaret stopped out of curiosity, listening halfheartedly to their talk of free love and making peace, not war, until the man who called himself Solomon stepped off the low wall on which he'd been standing and started toward her.

One look from the dark-eyed, charismatic leader and she'd been hooked. He'd smiled at her, touched her face, then her hair, with the back of his hand. She felt the warmth of his breath as he bent down and placed a flower in her hair above her ear. As he did, the crowd around them had laughed then applauded, and something within Margaret had soared. One day ran into the next, and then the next, until she was at the campus almost daily. Seven days after her first encounter with Solomon, she'd gone again, only this time with Jade.

The People treated her child as if she was a princess, exclaiming over Jade's stunning beauty, even weaving flowers into her curly black hair and painting a tiny butterfly on the baby doll curve of her cheek. They praised Margaret until she felt as if she'd given birth to a holy child. Within the short space of that week, the emptiness in her heart had been replaced with a false sense of family. And so the brainwashing of Margaret Cochrane had begun.

Six months later, she was about to break her marriage vows to the man she'd sworn to love, honor and cherish. If that wasn't daunting enough, she was also about to steal away his only child. More than once she'd thought about telling, him, but she knew he would never understand.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Sam, then stood within the darkness of the room, looking down at his face. He was so good-looking, and he did love her. But he was always busy, and he didn't understand her. It seemed to Margaret as if everything mattered more to him than she did. There was a brief moment of hesitation before her eyes narrowed purposefully. Quickly she slipped off her nightgown and dressed, choosing a long, ankle-length dress made of a blue, flowered fabric that she'd purchased yesterday. She picked up her shoes, waiting to put them on until she had stepped into the hall. With a quick backward glance over her shoulder, she hurried next door to Jade's room and slipped inside.