Julie Cave - The Dark Heart

First printing: May 2017

Copyright 2017 by Julie Cave. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews. For information write:

Master Books , P.O. Box 726, Green Forest, AR 72638

ISBN: 9781683440130

ISBN: 978-1-61458-600-5 (digital)

Library of Con gress Number: 2017940500

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.

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All characters appearing in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Acknowledgments

For my own daughters, Jasmine and Sienna, who are more precious to me than words can adequately say. For Terry: And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Contents

Chapter 1

January, 1996

A bank of low, dark clouds hid the moon and threatened rain. When Jordan stepped out into the brisk air, he took a deep breath and wondered if he was going to get wet. It had been windy and dry for weeks, and thus, hed been too busy to even eat lunch most days. The Santa Ana winds were bothering asthmatics, wreaking havoc on emphysema sufferers, and creating recurring attacks of pneumonia. He was one of only a few respiratory therapists on staff at the private hospital, and he went home after each shift exhausted. And his day wasnt done yet: the staff parking lot was a long way from the hospital; a three-block walk.

Jordan walked down the street, one eye on the belligerent clouds, his backpack slung casually over his shoulder. Hed made the walk many times, and he daydreamed about the big supper his mama had waiting for him at home. His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

One block over from the hospital, Jordan came across a car with its hood up, and he wondered what it was doing in this neighborhood. It was a commercial district, deserted at night and apart from hospital staff scurrying to and from work, there was little reason for anyone else to be around. Then he saw the two girls bent over it, the dim glow of a flashlight revealing confused faces. When they heard Jordan approach, they both straightened up and he could see them a little better. One was tall with red hair, and one was small and petite, built like a bird. The taller one called out: Excuse me?

Jordan slowed down. Are you okay?

Could you please help us? she asked. Our car has broken down and we dont know what to do.

The smaller woman shivered. Im scared.

Jordan smiled. Sure. What are you doing around here anyway?

Were lost, said the smaller woman.

Well, lets see what we can do for you, Jordan said. He put down his backpack and walked around to the front of the car. There were no obvious signs that something was wrong; no steam billowing from the radiator. Perhaps theyve run out of gas, he thought.

Hmmm... he mused, mostly to himself. He bent over farther. Lets have a look at....

He didnt get to finish his sentence. A blow to the back of his head sent bright, hot flashes of lightning off in front of his eyes. Pain unfurled in his skull like a sail caught by the Santa Ana wind. What was that? His panicked brain shouted, although he only seemed to hear his thoughts dimly. Did the hood fall on my head?

A panting breath in his ear explained the situation. Someone had attacked him from behind: a cowards move, his brain noted, coldly. Some instinct within him urged him to flee, but his legs had turned to limp spaghetti. He could only collapse onto the blacktop below. He became aware that he was being dragged away from the car and into the darkness. With great effort, he realized that the two women were watching, but they werent calling for help or screaming.

It had been a trap.

He ducked away from a fist aimed at his nose. He caught the flow on his chin and lower lip, which split like an overripe melon. Warm blood flowed onto his shirt. My work shirt, he thought. Mamas going to kill me.

He tried to fight, although he knew that he didnt stand a chance. There were two attackers, he thought, and both were big and strong. He tried to scramble to his feet, though his head felt heavy and disconnected from anything his legs were trying to do. In desperation, he tried to work out what they wanted from him.

Money! he cried. Money. In my wallet.

It was a mugging, Jordan thought. Perhaps they thought he was a rich young doctor.

The snarling response was pure hatred.

Oh, thought Jordan. A boot crashed into his side, and he felt sure he heard the snap of his rib. They hate me because my skin is a different shade from theirs.

He almost wished it was a mugging, because the truth was so incomprehensible. It was such a waste of time and energy, to hate somebody for no reason other than their skin color or facial features. The urgent need for quick cash made more sense.

His attempt to defend himself quickly waned. He simply could not fight off two attackers. While adrenaline flooded his veins, numbing the pain, he remembered the stories hed heard at his grandmothers knee. He remembered how in times past, his family wasnt allowed in the same bathrooms as other people. He knew that some of his ancestors had been slaves. The echoes of those times were still heard today: sometimes a patient shrank back when he came into the treatment room. Sometimes he was assumed to be the orderly, not the therapist. Yet for some reason, he still dreamed of medical school. His mama had taught him that nothing was beyond his reach.

Yet, this attack reminded him that nothing had really changed. Racism was still here; hatred still lived in the hearts of men and women; and violence could erupt in its ugly fury. Jordan came to understand in that moment that his picture would appear in the evening news tomorrow night, right next to his weeping mother, and his name would be added to the roll call of those whod died because of how they looked.

Jordan could feel his consciousness slipping; his eyes swam and his ears roared like the sea. As though he was in someone elses dream, he wondered: Cant they see my blood is red? Cant they see that we are all the same underneath?

Jordan struggled to keep his eyes open. It was nearly over, he realized. He fought to stay conscious for as long as he could, and he found himself looking at the faces of the two women whod led him into the trap.

The taller one looked toward him grimly, her face a mask of stone, but she couldnt look directly at him.

The smaller one stared right back at him, and Jordan was astonished to see tears falling down her face, glistening in the dim light thrown by the street light. She stood straight and rigidly still, arms by her side, not trying to hide the evidence of her tears.

Jordan was mystified for a moment, but another bright explosion of pain erupted at the back of his head, and everything went dark.