Roses After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “Sorry,” she apologized. “There was a fender bender on Redwood and Campbell. Getting around them wasn’t easy.”

  “I thought you would be required to stop and assist,” he murmured.

  “We only have to stop if someone has been hurt.” She moved toward the bar. “In between yelling at each other as to whose fault it was, both parties were on their phones, probably calling their insurance companies.”

  “Hey!” Flip greeted her with a big smile. The young woman stood at the bar, filling bowls with peanuts and pretzels. “I have got to tell you about this hot new guy I met at a party the other night.” She glanced at Luc under the cover of her lashes. “When the big boss isn’t around.”

  “Meaning your mom hasn’t met him,” he injected.

  “Like she’s a good judge of men.” Flip made a face.

  “Were you in a hurry this afternoon?” Celeste asked Luc.

  He hadn’t expected her to be so direct. But then, could he expect anything else with this woman?

  “Excuse me?” He kept his features bland.

  “You were on Main Street. You saw me. I know you did, yet you acted as if you didn’t know me. You practically flew down the street. Someone would think you were running away.”

  Luc’s jaw clenched. “I don’t run away from anything.” Or anyone.

  Celeste didn’t look convinced. She took a step closer to him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Dante. You don’t have to run from me if we happen to see each other on the street. I don’t expect special treatment because of Sunday night.”

  “We don’t need to discuss this right now,” he muttered.

  “That’s your problem, Dante. You don’t like anyone breaking through your carefully erected defenses. Well, guess what—I’ve always believed in thinking outside the box. And there’s no fence I can’t climb.” With that, she moved off.

  Luc stood there with the sensation he’d just been run over by a blond truck.

  He wasn’t sure just how it had happened, but he’d swear the woman had just got the best of him. He had to leave the bar before he gave in to the suggestions racing through his mind. Foremost would have been his not wasting any time dragging Celeste over the bar—and kissing her senseless, just as he’d done the other night. Maybe if he gave in to his instincts often enough he’d be able to get her out of his system before insanity took over. Or maybe he should call one of the few women he occasionally dated. Perhaps spending the night with one of them would quell the restlessness inside him.

  But deep down he knew only one woman could soothe his restless nature.

  That was why he settled for leaving the bar.

  “Coward,” Celeste muttered, watching him walk away. She just wished she could figure out what was going on between them.

  What he had made her feel that night still kept her sizzling inside.

  She’d always told herself she didn’t need a man in her life. After this last conversation with Luc, she was pretty sure she was the last thing he wanted in his.

  Celeste was grateful for a busy evening. She was kept so occupied that she didn’t have a chance to think about anything other than who got what drinks.

  When her break came, Celeste headed for the kitchen door and looked out. She saw a small orange light glowing at the end of the building. She grabbed two mugs of coffee and walked outside.

  “This might warm you up faster than that cancer stick will.” She handed him one of the mugs.

  “Is this why you have such an excellent arrest record? You bug them so much they beg you to take them in?”

  “I used to sing to them,” she admitted. “But I had to stop when I was accused of inhumane treatment.”

  He glanced in her direction. “That bad, huh?”

  “Dogs are known to howl.” She drank her coffee to keep her teeth from chattering. “Do Flip’s parents fight a lot?”

  “Let’s just say that if her mother says it’s morning, her father argues it’s evening. They’re the perfect example of dysfunctional parents.”

  “Amazing she turned out as well as she did.”

  “And even with jerks like them, she’s better off than if she’d been thrown into the System.” Luc dropped his cigarette onto the pavement and ground it under his heel. He stared out into the parking lot.

  “Did you have any fun as a kid?” she asked softly.

  “Do you ever stop asking questions that aren’t any of your business?”

  “It’s what I do.”

  Luc took a deep breath. “Then try it somewhere else.”

  “Why? Are you afraid I’ll learn one of your secrets?”

  When he turned toward her, his eyes burned with a dark fire.

  “Trust me, Celeste, you don’t want to go there.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. The questions crowded her mind, but none crossed her lips. Without thinking, she started to lift her hand to touch his face, but her hand fell before it could reach his skin. She sensed he wouldn’t welcome any type of contact at that moment.

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to touch a hot stove, Celeste?” He spoke softly.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Trying to figure me out is the very same thing. Not a good idea. Go back inside. Do what you’re here to do and leave me alone.”

  She stared at him for what felt like hours. “I think you’ve been alone from the very beginning,” she said.

  Luc didn’t respond or even look her way when she returned to the kitchen.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen that way! Why did she have to be so upset when he told her he was there to wipe the unhappiness from her eyes. Her boyfriend humiliated her! The jerk told her he needed a real woman. Since then she’d stayed in her apartment crying. He’d observed her for the past few nights. He decided tonight was perfect.

  Instead, from the beginning everything went wrong. He was so scared when she grabbed her chest and cried out that she couldn’t breathe. He ran. He was frightened of what might happen to her, but this time he forgot to make sure that he left nothing behind. He even stopped at a pay phone to call 911 on her behalf.

  He hoped she would be all right.

  He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He’d only wanted to give her the love she deserved.

  Chapter 9

  “S orry for the early wake-up call,” Dylan apologized when Celeste climbed out of her car.

  Her heart sank the moment she saw the grim expression on his face.

  “What happened?”

  “It seems she had a heart condition,” he said quietly. “When the paramedics got here, she was in cardiac arrest—911 got an anonymous call from a pay phone near a mini-mart that she needed urgent medical attention. I had one of the patrol officers go over there to question the employees to see if they got a look at anyone who used the phone tonight. The paramedics had to stabilize her before they could even take her out of her apartment. They just left for the hospital.” He lowered his voice. “She didn’t look good at all. An officer went with her.”

  Celeste looked at the apartment building. She could see lights shining from every window in one of the apartments on the first floor. Crime scene technicians walked back and forth in front of the windows. She also noticed lights on in just every other apartment in the two-story building. While some residents didn’t look happy about the unexpected disturbance, others displayed open curiosity about the activity that had interrupted their sleep. She noticed some stood in their apartment doorways while others looked out their windows.

  She didn’t miss the variety of expressions on the women’s faces, ranging from poor her to thank God it wasn’t me.

  The second the ringing phone had woken her at three a.m. she’d instinctively known the rapist had struck again. She had wasted no time pulling on jeans, a sweater and jacket before she headed for the address Dylan gave her.

  “Have you been in there yet?” she asked now.

  He shook his head. “I was waiting for you.”

 
She took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

  At the door, a patrol officer took their names and logged them in.

  “Anything so far?” Celeste asked Ignacious “Iggy” Ivanovich, head of the crime scene investigation unit. Between his futile battle with an ever decreasing hair-line and glasses that resembled cola bottles he was everyone’s image of a scientist.

  “It’s just like before. He used a condom and took it with him. We’re checking the tub and sink drains as always, but we’ve never been able to find anything there either. He got in through the front door. Definitely knows his way around a lock pick. And we have this—” He held up an evidence envelope holding a rose. “But, as always, he did leave this parting gift. Don’t worry. We’ll go over this place with a microscope if need be.”

  “I know you will. We’re heading over to the hospital to see if we can talk to the victim,” she told him. “Call either me or Dylan on our cells if you get lucky and something turns up.”

  “Will do.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “The lady’s bathroom is a virtual pharmacy. Heavy-duty heart medications,” he added quietly. “I’d say she was living on borrowed time.”

  “And now she’s had the shock of being raped.” She nodded grimly. “We’ll need those reports ASAP.”

  “And you’ll get them.”

  “We knew it was coming,” Celeste muttered as she and Dylan headed to the parking lot. She glared at the onlookers. “Vultures, all of them.”

  “No, that’s the media.” They headed for his car. “All those people are just glad it wasn’t them.”

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” she asked rhetorically as Dylan sped out of the parking lot.

  “Because this victim has a medical condition and her outlook isn’t good.”

  The feeling of dread stayed with Celeste during the drive through empty streets until they reached the hospital. Her steps quickened as they walked through the automatic doors into the emergency room.

  A part of Celeste’s brain noted the waiting room was half-full. One little boy was curled up in a molded plastic seat, while someone who appeared to be his grandmother watched over him. A shabbily dressed man, probably homeless and looking for a warm dry spot for the night, dozed in another chair.

  Dylan headed for the admitting desk.

  “Hey, Teri,” he greeted the clerk. “A Lori Ritter was brought in.”

  She nodded. “Officer Martin’s back there with them. Go on back.” She pushed the button to admit them.

  They’d just entered when a uniformed officer approached them. He was shaking his head.

  Celeste’s stomach took a nosedive. “No,” she whispered. She looked past him at the man dressed in wrinkled green scrubs.

  “She went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance,” the doctor explained. “With her weak heart, she didn’t have a chance.”

  Dylan turned to Celeste. “Our guy just upped the stakes. Now he’s not only wanted for multiple rapes, he’s wanted for murder, too.”

  Celeste’s stomach burned from too much coffee and too little food while her eyes burned from little sleep and tears she refused to shed. She sat slumped in her chair, elbow braced on the chair arm. She absently chewed on a fingernail.

  Conversations flowed around her but she heard nothing. She was lost in her sorrow for a woman who may not have had quality of life, but who hadn’t deserved to die the way she did.

  “Here.” Something was placed on the desk in front of her. “Drink it before it gets cold.”

  She looked at the insulated cup and smelled chicken and herbs.

  “I’ve heard chicken noodle soup cures pretty much everything.” Dylan handed her a plastic spoon.

  She offered him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

  He perched a hip on the edge of her desk. “Leste, the woman had a weak heart that wouldn’t allow her to work outside the home. She’d just gone through a bad breakup with her boyfriend that must have added to her stress. The shock of the rape was probably the last straw to her system.”

  Celeste shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t have died that way.”

  “No, she shouldn’t have.” Dylan dropped some papers on her desk. “Crime scene reports. Iggy says it’s the work of our less than charming prince. Just like all the others.”

  “Except this time the victim died,” she said tonelessly.

  Celeste felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. How many rape victims had she questioned? More than one was one too many in her book. But how many had died? One. In the back of her mind she’d known the day would come when a rape victim would not survive the attack. She just hadn’t expected it to happen with Prince Charming. She knew she would take some time to mourn the needless loss of life, then she would get down to work to find the bastard who had caused that loss.

  “We also got a prelim report from the coroner. There was bruising along her inner thighs and on her breasts. Our guy is starting to get rough with his ladies.”

  She shook her head. “Not good.”

  “Definitely not good. I rescheduled our appointment with Barbara Miller to tomorrow morning,” Dylan said. “She’d already heard the news on the radio. In the beginning, it took a lot of fast talking to get her to agree to see us again. After hearing about Lori Ritter, Barbara was more than happy to meet us. I think she’s afraid he’ll come back.”

  Celeste picked up the cup and dipped her spoon into it. The soup warmed her stomach but couldn’t reach the rest of her.

  “We deal with a dark side of human nature,” she murmured. “People who think nothing of hurting children, anyone weaker than them. We’ve told so many victims that it may take time but that they’ll go on. We’re not going to be able to tell Lori Ritter that.”

  “Death isn’t a regular part of our work,” Dylan said.

  “Tough luck, Bradshaw.” Stryker paused by her desk. He tapped the desk surface with his fingertips. His clothes were rumpled as if he’d slept in them, his sun-shot hair was unruly, his square jaw unshaven and his golden-brown eyes bloodshot but warm with sympathy.

  “How do you do it?” she demanded, looking up at him. “You revel in homicide cases. How do you handle all that death?” Her chin quivered. That she’d raised her voice, something she never did, that her eyes flashed fire and her body was tight as a drum attested to her inner turmoil.

  “I don’t let it get to me. I take it one case at a time and I don’t let it eat me alive. I hate to tell you this, Goldilocks, but this isn’t going to be your first death. Consider yourself lucky there hasn’t been more before this one. And just realize this won’t be your last.” He leaned over and said something in Dylan’s ear. Dylan cocked his head to listen, then nodded. Stryker moved to the rear of the room.

  Celeste looked up when Sam came out of his office and gestured for her and Dylan to come into his office. He waited for them to be seated before he closed the door.

  “I don’t have to tell you this isn’t good,” he said without preamble. “It was bad enough when a woman had to worry about someone breaking in to her place and assaulting her. Now there will be panic that they’ll be murdered, too.”

  “Which is understandable, since any woman will put herself in Lori Ritter’s shoes,” Dylan said. “Prelim says the shock of the rape brought on the cardiac arrest. With her heart so damaged, it was a miracle she’d survived as long as she had. Lori Ritter lived alone. She was a Web site designer. She has a sister who lives in Portland. She’s flying in today to give us a formal ID of the body. I’ll pick her up at the airport.”

  Sam looked sharply at Celeste. “Both of you will pick her up.”

  Dylan shifted. “Uh, Lieu, there’s really no need for that.”

  “Both of you.” He kept his eyes on Celeste. “How badly do you want this bastard, Bradshaw?”

  She looked up. Her eyes were empty of all expression. She licked her lips.

  “I want this guy more than I’ve ever wanted anything before,” sh
e said. “I want this guy so badly that I don’t think I’ll be sleeping until he’s caught.”

  He studied her for several moments before nodding. “Pick up the victim’s sister, transport her for the formal ID. Put her up at the Sierra Inn on our tab. And Bradshaw, tomorrow you come in here loaded for bear. Get my meaning?”

  She nodded. “Loud and clear, sir. Come in ready to dig around even more.” She pushed herself out of her chair.

  “Are you slated to work in the bar tonight?” Dylan asked her as they walked down to the garage.

  Celeste nodded.

  “Maybe you should ask for the night off.”

  “No.” Her voice was stronger. “Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky and hear something. See something. No, I’ll work.”

  By evening, Celeste regretted her choice.

  Lori Ritter’s sister was understandably upset and angry that her sister had been pushed into dying before her time. Celeste called on every ounce of emotional reserve as she and Dylan assisted the woman in every way they could. By the time they’d left her at the hotel, Celeste was emotionally exhausted.

  Flip must have sensed Celeste didn’t care to talk. The normally talkative young woman kept her chatter to a minimum. Since it was a quiet night, they had little to do. Flip busied herself using the carpet sweeper over any hint of dirt and wiping off the tables almost as soon as customers left.

  Luc looked in twice, but didn’t come into the bar. He left her alone all evening.

  “Are you okay?” Paulie asked her when he came in for a bottle of mineral water. “You know, if you weren’t feeling well, you could have called in sick.”

  “I’m not sick,” Celeste told him, offering a smile that failed miserably. “Maybe it’s all the rain we’ve had lately. Too many gray days in a row. I’m sorry.”

  “I know we’re in the service industry, but none of us can expect to be bright and shining every day,” he told her. “If you don’t feel well, say so. Nights like tonight don’t normally bring in people who want the exotic drinks.”