Past Midnight (South Island PD Book 2)

by Ranae Rose

  “Hey.” Madison lay reclined on the couch, a fleece blanket over her legs and her iPad resting in her lap. Her hair was pulled back into a lopsided ponytail, but with her natural waves, it didn’t look half bad.

  In any case, this was the best she’d looked in weeks.

  “Is everything okay?” Peyton wanted to believe things were looking up, but couldn’t help hesitating.

  “Yeah. Well, other than the fact that I’ve been living like a human slug for the past month. I couldn’t stand another day in my room.”

  “Are you going to stay out here, mom?” Jace dropped his backpack on the carpet.

  “Uh-huh. Wanna watch a movie or something?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Don’t forget about your homework,” Peyton said, and instantly regretted it.

  Talk about a joy-kill. What was wrong with her?

  “After the movie, I mean. I can help you with it then if you want.”

  Madison waved a hand. “I’ll help him with his homework, Peyton.”

  She felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

  “I slept well last night for the first time since the accident. Now that I’m feeling a little more human, I need something to do or I’m gonna go stir-crazy. Besides, you have enough on your plate right now with the store.”

  Peyton tensed. “Don’t worry about things at Charmed. I’ve got it under control.”

  She glanced at the chunky outline of her sister’s leg brace beneath the fleece blanket. In her mind’s eye, she could see the pins holding the knitting bones together, foreign metal objects that would forever be a part of Madison now.

  The rented wheelchair she had obviously used to move from her bed to the couch sat empty beside the cushion where her feet rested, propped on a pillow.

  Peyton’s stomach lurched. Would Madison ever stop reminding her that she was her big sister?

  “Did you even hear what I said about going stir-crazy?”

  “I heard, but—”

  “No buts.”

  Peyton bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to argue in front of Jace.

  “Let me make you something to eat before I head back to work, then.”

  “Why don’t we order a pizza?” Madison asked. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a pizza night.”

  Jace let out a whoop of delight, and Peyton couldn’t say no.

  “Ham and pineapple?” he asked.

  Madison shot Peyton a questioning look.

  “Sure.” Peyton dug her phone out of her purse.

  “Jace,” Madison said when Peyton finished placing the order, “why don’t you get some plates, napkins and drinks ready?”

  “Okay!” He leapt up from the couch in a display of energy it was impossible not to envy.

  “Peyton…”

  Peyton shifted her gaze back to her sister. “Huh?”

  “I’ve been thinking – I want to take full responsibility for handling the store’s social media accounts and newsletter.”

  “Are you sure?” Normally, that was Peyton’s job.

  Madison nodded. “I’m bored as hell, and I know it’s always been your thing, but I’m sure I can handle it.” She tapped her iPad’s screen. “I can do it from right here on the couch, and it’ll be one less thing on your plate.”

  “Don’t worry about what I’ve got on my plate. Just focus on getting better.”

  “My fingers aren’t broken. I can type just fine, and the pain isn’t as bad as it was at first.”

  Peyton scrutinized her sister’s expression for any sign of dishonesty.

  Madison flashed her a smile. “You’re such a worrywart. Why don’t you take a little break? Go to the beach, or on a date or something.”

  Heat burnt its way across the bridge of Peyton’s nose as her thoughts flashed back to the day before, when she’d shot down Officer Bennett.

  “I don’t have time to boyfriend hunt.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll see a movie sometime soon or something.”

  “Sure you will.”

  Madison’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Peyton, but she ignored it anyway. She hadn’t been on a date since winter. Hypothetically, she’d love to have someone to love – a partner who’d enhance her life instead of overcomplicating it.

  But real life wasn’t a romantic comedy. It took time and effort to find someone worth dating, and she just didn’t have it to spare. Running Charmed on her own meant that her workday started when she opened her eyes and ended – sort of – when her head hit the pillow.

  “Seriously, at least sit down and relax for a while over pizza with me and Jace,” Madison said. “Maybe the delivery guy will be cute, and you can slip him your number along with the tip.”

  Peyton rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. Madison was clearly using her newfound energy to try to amuse her, and grumping around made her feel like a jerk.

  “Maybe,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Dating a pizza delivery guy does sound kind of promising. I bet you’d get a hefty discount.”

  “Not to mention,” Madison added, “he’d always smell like pizza.”

  “Is that supposed to be a benefit?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t you complain that the last guy you went out with wore too much cologne?”

  “I’m pretty sure he bathed in it.” His offensive scent had been the least of his faults. A thirty-something office manager, he’d spent most of their two dates regaling her with tales of what morons his underlings were.

  Except he’d been the one who’d come off as a moron. Knowing she was dating someone’s evil boss had been even more repellant than his cheap cologne. She’d cut things short after two dates and rarely thought about the two dinners they’d had together.

  Jace bounded back into the room before Peyton was forced to choose a side on the cologne vs. pizza smell debate.

  “Got the stuff, mom!” He waved a handful of napkins and paper plates. “Drinks are on the counter in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, honey.” Madison smiled and reached out to smooth a hand over her son’s hair.

  Tension Peyton hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying began to dissipate. For the first time in nearly a month, Madison seemed like herself. Could things really be starting to get back to normal?

  She hardly dared to hope. Much like the idea of dating, Madison’s recovery was something she looked forward to but didn’t see in the immediate future.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Peyton said, grabbing her purse.

  “See if he’s hot,” Madison said with a teasing grin. “I expect a report on how he fills out that delivery uniform.”

  Peyton barely held back a snort. She’d hardly call a t-shirt and khakis a uniform. When she thought of men in uniform, men like Officer Bennett came to mind.

  Men whose sex appeal she couldn’t appreciate because they were always such huge jerks. Huge, entitled jerks who thought they could have whatever they wanted just because they had a badge and – in Officer Bennett’s case – insanely good looks.

  Okay, well, that might work on some women. But not her.

  It was too bad, because even she had to admit he looked drop dead sexy in his uniform. So sexy, in fact, that she was almost tempted to reconsider whether she’d been too hasty to assume that he’d been trying to cash in on a perceived debt when he’d asked her out.

  Almost. Because who was she kidding? With his looks, there was no way he had a shortage of interested women. He’d probably been trying to get into her pants as a matter of habit.

  The thought was more bitter than it should’ve been. Mostly because, for just a couple days, she’d started to think that he really was a good guy.

  And then he’d ruined it, revealing that he’d had his own agenda all along. The illusion of kindness had shimmered briefly before disappearing like a desert mirage.

  * * * * *

  Orange Avenue was two streets over from Shell Avenue, a street that was the
considered the island’s main shopping strip. While Orange wasn’t heralded quite so often in tourism brochures, it was busy enough, and therefore frequently patrolled by the PD.

  Specifically, by Elijah. It was part of his patrol territory – a fact that had held no emotional meaning to him before. Now, he felt like some sort of creep every time he drove down the street, his gaze lingering on Charmed’s hand-crafted violet sign and shiny new window.

  Every time he passed the place, he thought of that look Peyton had given him – so full of mistrust and disappointment.

  It ate away at him in a way it probably shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that she thought he’d been trying to guilt her into physically repaying him for the small favor he’d done her was enough to make him feel nauseated.

  He wasn’t that kind of scum. It would’ve bothered the hell out of him to know anyone thought that of him, but with Peyton, it absolutely killed him.

  And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what to do about it. It wasn’t like he could drop by and try to explain or apologize further; that’d just make him seem like some sort of asshole stalker. As best he could figure, his only option was to fade quietly away and hope she forgot about him.

  Which was the last damn thing he wanted to do.

  Grimacing, he drove by the storefront for what felt like the millionth time. Funny how that purple sign could fill him with shame and longing at the same time.

  His radio crackled with the sound of another officer calling dispatch, requesting back-up to help deal with a drunk driver. The other officer was Rogers, who was only a few blocks away. He radioed in, marking himself en route.

  It was a mark of just how embarrassed he was that he was willing to rush to Rogers’ aid in order to distract himself from Charmed and the beautiful woman inside.

  * * * * *

  Peyton looked up from the newspaper she had open on the counter just in time to see a black and white South Island PD cruiser roll by, lights flashing.

  Her grip on Page 4 tightened, smudging her fingers with ink as her heart leapt into her throat.

  The car had been going too fast for her to see the driver, but she couldn’t help but think of Officer Bennett.

  A pang of something like guilt arrowed through her, quickly followed by a sense of longing she should’ve been ashamed of.

  She flipped through the paper and tried not to think too deeply about why she felt that guilt, that longing.

  No matter how many times she re-read the headlines or scanned the articles below, she couldn’t absorb a single word. All she saw in her mind’s eye was the flash of blue lights, and the darker, hotter blue of South Island’s PD uniforms.

  * * * * *

  When Elijah arrived on scene, Rogers had the driver handcuffed and leaning against his car. Though she was at least a solid foot shorter than the tall, middle-aged man in shirtsleeves and a patterned tie, she had him pinned there. Judging by the look on her face, she was using every inch of her small frame to keep the guy from breaking free as he writhed against his sedan like a fish out of water.

  “God damn it!” His tie swung wildly as sweat ran down his forehead. “You can’t do this! Not in broad daylight!”

  The guy was drunk off his ass; the smell of his malt whiskey breath enveloped Elijah like a toxic cloud as he stepped in, gripping the man firmly by one arm and shoulder.

  It was barely eleven AM.

  A look of relief started to cross Rogers’ face as she exhaled hard, and then she looked up at Elijah.

  Her expression quickly morphed to surprise, and then her eyes narrowed. She turned her attention back to the drunk before Elijah could tell whether the unfriendly look had been meant for him.

  “Calm down.” Elijah kept a firm hold on the man. “Things are gonna go a lot better for you if you stop resisting arrest.”

  The man huffed out another sour breath. “Oh, fuck you! This is insane. Somebody better be recording this.” He looked around wildly. “Is anyone recording this?!”

  More than a few people stared. Whether a civilian was recording the arrest, Elijah hardly cared. Someone probably was, but it was only going to embarrass the arrestee, who was too drunk to realize that.

  The man wriggled spastically, throwing his head back and nearly catching Elijah in the nose.

  Rogers looked up, rolling her eyes at the drunk as she met Elijah’s gaze.

  It was the only display of comradery he’d ever gotten from her. It was weird, but a nice change, compared to how she normally treated him. Being able to silently commiserate over a moronic drunk might has well have been some sort of familial bond.

  Together, they managed to get him into the back of Rogers’ squad car. Once they shut him in, he pressed his forehead against the glass and continued to rave.

  “Jesus,” Rogers said, “it’s not even lunch time. Think he had a bottle of Jack hidden away in his desk drawer or something?”

  “Who knows?”

  Rogers shook her head, then smirked. “You think anyone was recording?”

  Now that the drunk was in the car, onlookers were losing interest. Pedestrians drifted away, and vehicles went back to traveling at suspiciously prudent speeds.

  “For this guy’s sake, I hope not.”

  “Don’t know why you’d care. He made his bed; he should have to lie in it.” Rogers’ gaze hardened. “He could’ve killed someone, driving like that.”

  That point struck home. Elijah had seen innocent people killed by intoxicated drivers before – those memories weren’t the kind any officer forgot.

  “Yeah, he could’ve.”

  Rogers nodded curtly. “You ready to RSVP to the party yet?”

  “Yeah.” It was hard to refuse when she wasn’t treating him like gum stuck to the bottom of her boot. If this was her new attitude, he could stand attending her engagement party. “I’ll be there.”

  “Bringing a plus-one?”

  “Nah.”

  “Well, if you invite someone later, whatever. It’s fine. Gail’s mom ordered extra food.”

  “Right.”

  Rogers got in her cruiser, with the drunk still squawking in the back. With her stony expression, she looked the same as ever, but she seemed like a different person.

  As she drove in the direction of the station, he no longer cared about inviting a date just so she wouldn’t be able to rub his singleness in his face.

  He still wished he could’ve brought Peyton, though. They might’ve actually had fun.

  * * * * *

  The silver bell hanging over Charmed’s door jingled. Peyton snapped her gaze to the entrance, feeling hopeful.

  Madison had done a pretty impressive job of working up some sale graphics for the week, and had put more time into their social media presence than Peyton usually did. Would it result in a sales bump?

  But it wasn’t a customer who’d walked in. It was a familiar guy with thick-framed glasses and a tall, lean build.

  “Hey, James. What’s up?”

  He owned the computer repair business across the street, a shop wedged between a small office complex and a photography studio. They’d spoken a handful of times.

  “Mrs. Pavlis came over yesterday,” he said. “Told me you were robbed last week.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

  “I was out of state. Just got married, and my wife and I were on our honeymoon.”

  “Congratulations.” Her gaze drifted to the golden band circling James’ left ring finger. She hadn’t had any idea he’d been getting married.

  They didn’t know each other that well, but they were still neighbors, in the business sense.

  “Thanks. Listen, the reason I came over is because Mrs. Pavlis said you were looking for any security footage that might show who robbed you.”

  “Well, it’s really the police who were looking, but yeah. They didn’t have any luck.” She leaned a little farther forward onto the counter, daring to hope. “Why, do you have som
ething?”

  “I don’t have a camera set up outside my shop, but I have a portable one that I use to monitor the inside when I’m not there. You can see a little of what’s going on outside, and your window is right across the street from mine.”

  The counter dug into her hip as she leaned even farther, bracing herself with hands against the surface. “Do you think you might be able to look back to the night of the robbery and see if anything shows up? I know it was probably dark, but—”

  “Already did. The quality’s not great, but you can see someone breaking your window and climbing in.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I assume you’re interested in the footage?”

  “Yeah. Is it okay if I get in touch with the police and let them know what you found?”

  “Sure. They can come by anytime within business hours, or give me a call after hours.” He slipped a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a business card, which he laid on the counter.

  “Thank you so much, James. I didn’t think they were ever going to find out who did this, but this might just help. I owe you.”

  He waved a hand. “Glad to help. I hope they catch the jackass.”

  Peyton nodded, and they exchanged goodbyes. Afterward, when she was alone in the shop, her heart sped as she pulled out her phone.

  Would she see Officer Bennett again? The question kept surfacing in her mind, stealing her focus when she should’ve been excited over the possibility of a lead in the previously dead-end investigation.

  CHAPTER 6

  Elijah was at the station using one of the computers after booking someone on a drug possession charge when he heard the muted slap of heels against industrial carpet.

  “Officer Bennett.”

  He turned to see Ruby, one of the department’s receptionists.

  “Hey, Ruby. What’s up?”

  “Someone called for you about an hour ago. Asked me to give you a message.” She held up a heavily-ringed hand, waving a sticky note. “I saw you come by the reception desk, but I was locked in conversation with a visitor. Figured you’d be up here.”