After the Midnight Hour

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “Not as much as I would have liked. They jumped me from behind.” He really hated to admit he’d been taken by surprise. “But I did what I could to make sure they remember me.”

  The lieutenant shook his head. “You must have pissed someone off real good. Not that that’s a new thing with you. Seems a lot of people get pissed off with you for one reason or another.”

  Jared gave his superior his best angelic gaze. “I have trouble believing that, Lieutenant. Why, everyone knows I’m as pure as the driven snow.”

  Adams’s retort to that was graphic in the extreme.

  “You’re not planning on tracking anyone down during this free time of yours, are you?”

  “As much as I might like to return the favor, it ain’t gonna happen. No, I’m going to do the homeowner bit and spend my vacation getting my house into shape. I thought if I plan to live in it, I’d better make it more habitable.”

  “Just do us all a favor, Stryker, and stay out of trouble,” the lieutenant advised. “As you said, you’ll be living out under county jurisdiction. And we all know the sheriff isn’t a patient and understanding man like I am. Nor is he that friendly with Sierra Vista’s finest.”

  Jared swallowed the grin that threatened to erupt at the idea of the harsh-featured man standing before him ever being patient, much less understanding.

  “It just goes to show you haven’t seen my house. Believe me, I’ll be too busy out there playing carpenter to have free time to get into any kind of trouble. I understand there’s nothing more fulfilling than taking care of one’s home.” He lifted his mug to his lips and winced as the hot liquid assaulted his cut lip.

  Adams studied his battered face, heaved a deep sigh and walked off.

  “Tell me something, Stryker. How many women offered to soothe your battered brow?” Detective Dylan Parker asked as he stopped by Jared’s desk a minute later.

  He thought of the angel with the Southern drawl as he replied, “Just one. Jealous?”

  “Hell, no. Well, yeah, because even with you looking like a train wreck, you still had it easier than me. You haven’t lived until you’ve spent the past three days listening to Bradshaw bill and coo all these sweet nothings, and I do mean sweet nothings, to her husband on the phone. Since she got married, the woman is totally ruined for work. Ow!” He clapped his hand over the back of his neck. He whipped around and glared at the blond woman who stood behind him. She flashed him a sunny smile as she bent down and picked up the rubber band she’d just shot at his neck.

  “Be a good boy, Parker, and tell your little friend you can’t play any longer because you have homework to do.” She held up a sheaf of papers.

  Jared’s injured lip protested his faint grin. He’d always considered the duo good entertainment.

  Celeste Dante looked past Dylan and studied Jared’s face. She winced at the painful sight. “Don’t tell me. You spent the evening at The Renegade. You know, Stryker, most people go to a bar to relax and have a drink, maybe even dance. They don’t go to get in a fight.””

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. I guess you don’t have this kind of fun at Dante’s Café.” He mentioned the trendy restaurant and bar owned by Celeste’s husband. Celeste and Luc Dante had met when Celeste and Dylan investigated a series of rapes in which the restaurant had been the link between the victims. Sadly, the rapist turned out to be Luc’s partner and closest friend. Since the man pleaded guilty, he’d been sentenced to prison without going to trial, and had spared the victims the agony of having to relive their attacks. Celeste and Luc had married shortly after the case was closed.

  “The only reason you like going out there is that you don’t have to worry about tipping the bartender. Try to stay in one piece, okay? Come, Parker. Time to show off your hunt-and-peck method on a keyboard.” She walked off with a grumbling Dylan on her heels.

  As Jared left the station, he looked around. He hadn’t taken any vacation time until he was pretty much forced to. He knew he was going to miss the place and wouldn’t feel right until he was back doing what he did best.

  When he arrived at the property later that day, the first thing he noticed was the quiet. This time he intended to survey in more detail what needed to be done. He wandered through the outbuildings, then checked the house to see what he’d require in the way of supplies. It didn’t take him long to realize he needed everything. Suddenly, he paused, when a faint breeze touched his face. He breathed in the scent of jasmine. He spun on his heel, but saw nothing.

  Funny. For a moment he could have sworn someone was in the room with him. A strange sensation skittered down his spine. An image of the violet-eyed angel with the kissable mouth drifted through his mind.

  “Well, mystery lady, I guess you moved on, after all,” he murmured, as he walked back outside and headed for his Harley.

  Maya stood at the upstairs window, where she could watch Jared steer his motorcycle down the rutted road. She’d managed to avoid his finding her by hiding quietly in the attic when he looked through the upstairs rooms. She smiled as she felt a faint breeze caress her cheeks.

  “He is handsome, niña, in a rough way,” she said. “But I think he is a man with too much darkness in his heart. Not the kind of darkness that was in Señor Caleb’s, but it is still a darkness that gives the man pain. He talks of living here, but he will not stay, just as others have not stayed. In the end we will be safe, as we always have been.”

  The double-wide trailer was partially hidden among a thick stand of trees. The exterior looked as if it hadn’t been washed down in months, while inside, the rooms were filthy and smelled strongly of chemicals. But the five equally disgusting inhabitants didn’t notice, or care, about the dirt. They were too busy drinking beer and using the illegal concoctions they sold on the sly.

  “I tell you that cop knows something,” one of the men growled, sprawling on a battered couch that had seen better days. “Did you see how he watched us that night? Why else would he be hanging around The Renegade so much, unless he thought he might have something on us? We don’t need a cop sniffing around, now that we’ve got this setup going so well.”

  “Maybe he’s down there a lot because of Lea. I heard the two have something going.” The bearded man leered. “I gotta say I wouldn’t mind having a piece of that. That woman is pure prime female.” He scratched his bare chest.

  The first man scowled at him “Can’t you get your brain out of your pants for more than five seconds? We have other things to worry about. We’re going to have to keep an eye on that cop. If he starts nosing around up here, we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find anything.”

  “We shoulda finished the job that night,” another of the men stated. “We coulda killed him and taken that sweet bike of his. No one would have suspected us.”

  “Are you nuts? Killing a cop is an automatic death penalty,” yet another pointed out. “I’m not doin’ anything that could put me on death row.”

  “Better him dead than us sitting in jail,” the first man grumbled.

  The leader leaned over the side of the couch and picked up a can of beer, a menacing grin on his face. “Don’t worry. If he does try to screw with us, we’ll make sure to finish the job next time. No way I’ll let him bring us down now.”

  Chapter 2

  The job turned out to be easier than Jared first thought. He rented a truck for his possessions with a trailer hitched behind to haul his Harley. Since he had little to move, he hadn’t asked for help, though Jared wouldn’t have thought to ask even if he needed it—he was used to doing everything himself.

  As he pushed the dolly holding his television up the ramp he’d set up at the front door, he again had the unsettling feeling he wasn’t alone. Once he got inside, he looked around, but as always, he didn’t find anything. He blamed the strange sensation on the soft breeze that seemed to hover around him. He still couldn’t understand why he smelled jasmine when there weren’t any jasmine bushes on the property. So far, all he had growi
ng around the house were weeds. He recalled he’d smelled that scent when the mysterious angel was near him. He wondered if he wasn’t hanging on to the memory because he wasn’t able to see the real thing.

  He didn’t find the sense of not feeling alone in the house alarming or suspicious. It even brought back memories of when he was a kid and hid out here all those nights his old man was on a drunk. How many days and nights had he spent in this building, feeling that same gentle breeze wrapped around him, inhaling the exotic scent? He hadn’t known what the fragrance was until Lea, one of the times she came out here with him, identified it. After that, the young Jared considered the exotic fragrance as a sort of security blanket.

  “Everyone insists this place is haunted,” he said out loud, maneuvering the television into a corner. “Although I never thought of ole Caleb liking jasmine.”

  It was late by the time Jared finished moving in his meager assortment of furniture and returned the rental truck. After wolfing down the hamburger and fries he’d brought back with him, he snagged the last bottle of beer from the cooler and walked outside, moving along the sagging fence that separated his land from the main road. He leaned against a rotting post, hoping it was strong enough to support his weight, and sipped the yeasty brew, tipping his head back and staring up at the dark night sky with its faint sprinkling of stars. As he looked toward the nearby hills, he noticed faint bits of light high up on the wooded slopes. Once summer arrived, he’d probably see more lights up there, as vacation homes were opened.

  Jared knew the mountainous area was dotted with custom-built vacation cabins. He’d also heard rumors about men living up there in small shacks. Men who didn’t want to be found by anyone. For one reason or another they distrusted everything to be found in the outside world. They preferred being off by themselves, and the local residents were happy to leave them alone.

  Jared could understand the men’s feelings. Most of the time he, too, was content to be left alone. Which meant he’d been pretty solitary most of his life.

  He’d had no idea he would ever inherit property, not to mention a ranch like this. Though much of the extensive acreage had been sold off, there was still enough land left to make a man feel like a king. And all his because his mother was descended from Caleb Bingham’s brother, who’d inherited the property after Bingham’s death. Jared briefly wondered if it was old Caleb who haunted the house and the land. There had been a lot of stories about the violent way the man died, so it would be logical he’d return to haunt the place.

  “If he thinks I’ll solve his murder, he’s got another think coming,” Jared muttered to himself. “I’m off duty.”

  He strained his ears, but the surrounding countryside was quiet, except for the sounds of insects. With the evening breeze blowing toward him he could hear the faint strains of music coming from The Renegade, about five miles down the road. There were no sounds he associated with living in town, no rumble of vehicles driving past or the blare of a car alarm assaulting the air. He almost missed listening to his neighbors having their nightly argument, followed by equally noisy making up. Here, there was nothing to pierce the stillness that surrounded him. If anything was unsettling, it was the tranquility. Jared Stryker’s vocabulary didn’t include the word tranquil.

  He looked back toward the house. The faint glow coming from the camp lantern he’d left in the front room was a welcoming beacon. For a moment he swore he could see a figure standing at one of the windows upstairs, and briefly thought of the woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his thoughts.

  “Ghosts,” he chuckled. “You’re seeing ghosts.” He tipped his beer upward and polished it off, then swung the bottle gently between his fingertips.

  “It’s peaceful here,” he murmured, just to hear something other than his breathing. “Too bad mystery lady isn’t around. She could have told me her story of why she was out here. I wouldn’t mind just looking at her.” He chuckled again. “Hell, if I don’t want to go crazy talking to myself I better think about getting a dog. Talking to a dog is allowed.”

  He straightened up and ambled back to the house.

  “I hope I’ve taken enough time off to do all this,” he muttered, shaking out his sleeping bag and laying it on the floor he’d tried to sweep free of as much dirt as possible. He’d wrestle the bed upstairs in the morning when he had more energy.

  As he turned off the camp lantern, plunging the room into darkness, he heard faint sounds coming from overhead. He was immediately on his feet.

  “Better not be rats,” he stated, keeping his weapon in one hand and a flashlight in the other as he stealthily made his way to the stairs. He climbed upward and silently navigated the hallway. The sounds had stopped, but he had a good idea what room they’d come from. The minute he appeared in the open doorway he quickly lowered his weapon. If he didn’t know better he’d think he was dreaming.

  His mysterious angel stood in the middle of the room. One hand was pressed against her throat as her wary gaze fixed on him, then slowly lowered to the gun in his hand.

  “What the hell…?” Catching the direction of her gaze, he pocketed his weapon.

  Her eyes grew even larger. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

  He had no idea how she’d got here without him hearing her, or why she was back. At the moment, it didn’t matter, because he’d hoped for another chance to see her.

  “Don’t be. This is better than my having to shoot a rat,” he said, noting her nervous expression. “We meet again,” he joked, secretly pleased to see her again even if he couldn’t understand how she got in the house without him hearing her.

  She nodded, still looking as if he’d said the wrong thing.

  “You look better than you did before,” she commented.

  “The ribs still hurt, but I can move around better.” Shining the beam of the flashlight at her, he looked her over, noting she wore the same old-fashioned dress she’d worn that night. He wondered if she belonged to one of those strict sects that believed a woman should be covered from neck to ankles. Considering the slight curves the dress revealed, he thought it was a crime. But it was her eyes and mouth that caught his attention. He’d never seen eyes of such a deep purple or such a soft bow-shaped mouth that begged to be kissed. He shifted from one leg to the other, hoping he wasn’t about to embarrass himself. “I never did get your name.”

  She looked wary. “My name? Why do you want to know that?”

  “You’re in my house. I figure that gives me the right to ask.”

  She edged her way toward the window. Jared wasn’t worried that she would escape. He doubted the window would even budge without the use of a screwdriver to pry it open. Not to mention they were on the second floor, so she wouldn’t have anywhere to run.

  “When did it become your house?” she whispered, looking even more panicked. “No one has lived here for a long time.”

  “Maybe no one lived here but ghosts, but that’s changed,” he teased. “I inherited the house and decided it was time I move in.”

  Her eyes remained huge. “I see.”

  “So do I get to hear your name?” he gently pressed.

  “My name is Rachel,” she murmured in her dulcet Southern drawl.

  “Rachel. I’m Stryker.” He took a deep breath. “Look, no offense, but you can’t stay here. I told your friend that if the two of you need a place to stay, I can get you into a shelter in town.”

  A loud splattering sound startled them: raindrops that intensified to a steady downpour. Jared looked up praying the roof was in as good a shape as the roofing contractor claimed it was. Otherwise, he could end up spending the night in a wet sleeping bag.

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t send you out into the rain,” he stated.

  A wry expression crossed her face. “I will be gone tomorrow,” she assured him.

  He suddenly felt like a royal jerk. “I mean it. I’ll help you find something. Believe it or not, I do have connections.”

  Rachel shook her h
ead. “You do not need to worry about me. I have a place to go to.”

  “There’s no beds up here,” he pointed out. “I’ve got an air mattress under my sleeping bag. You’re welcome to use it.”

  “I don’t sleep very much at night,” she replied. She remained where she was, her hands loosely clasped in front of her body.

  Jared was reluctant to leave her, but Rachel insisted he go to sleep, and assured him she would be fine. Still, over her protests, he carried the air mattress up the stairs to the room where he’d found her, and left it there with a blanket and one of his pillows. For now he wouldn’t be too worried about her. She didn’t look the type to carry off his possessions. Not that it didn’t mean he wouldn’t sleep with one eye open.

  Once he was settled in his sleeping bag, and just as sleep captured him, he was positive the gentle scent of jasmine surrounded him. He even imagined he felt the slightest touch of cool fingertips against his forehead.

  Even in sleep, his lips formed a word. Angel.

  “Why have you brought all these things?”

  Jared never considered himself a morning person—probably why he never minded working the graveyard shift. He wasn’t happy that someone was shaking him none too gently.

  Out of habit he reached for his weapon, which he kept under his pillow. He drew his hand back when he realized the Hispanic woman he’d seen before was standing over him like a dark angel. Her hands were braced on her hips and her face was screwed up in a scowl that would send most men running for the hills. Luckily, he wasn’t most men.

  “What the hell are you doing?” His voice came out the rough rasp of a man just jolted out of a deep sleep. His mood wasn’t improved by the fact that it looked to be the crack of dawn. “I said the two of you could stay here last night. I didn’t say I needed a wake-up call!”

  “You do not have a lot of food in the kitchen. How do you expect me to make you breakfast if you have so little food?”