Past Midnight (South Island PD Book 2)

by Ranae Rose

  “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to turn in the dinosaur. You’re being reassigned.”

  “Reassigned?” The thought of losing his partner Officer Rex so soon wasn’t funny now – maybe it would be later. After he found out what he was being reassigned to.

  “You’ve been doing just fine at Shell Point; I’m afraid this is a matter of necessity. The bogus accusations are bad enough; we don’t need to create any more waves. Besides, I know you’ll be glad to get rid of Officer Rex.”

  It was funny – he’d resented the stuffed animal at first, but he’d grown to sort of like his temporary assignment. It might not have been exciting, but working with kids wasn’t all bad. At least they liked him.

  “Where am I being reassigned to?”

  Aldred’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry about this, but…”

  * * * * *

  Peyton dialed Elijah’s number from the breakroom, then cradled the phone against her ear. Why was her heart racing?

  Madison wasn’t even there – she’d stayed home that morning, claiming to be tired.

  Madison was probably more angry than tired. She probably just didn’t want to spend the day awkwardly working by Peyton’s side.

  Peyton hadn’t argued. If Madison needed some time to cool down, then so be it. She could get by just fine with Julie’s help around the shop.

  Of course, Julie wouldn’t be coming in for another half hour. Peyton had lots to do but was taking time to call Elijah while she was still alone. Because this was what she’d resorted to: sneaking around like a kid trying to swipe a treat from the cookie jar before dinner.

  Embarrassment caused her face to flush. She was twenty-nine years old. Why was she behaving like this?

  The phone stopped ringing, and her heart leapt at the sound of Elijah’s voice.

  “Hey,” she said, right before realization kicked in and her heart sank.

  His voicemail had started, that was all.

  “Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you shortly.”

  The words were anything but personal, but her throat got tight anyway as a tingling sensation crept down her spine, making her ache inside and out.

  They hadn’t spoken since yesterday’s disaster, and this was the second time she’d called.

  Was he just busy, or was he no longer interested in seeing her?

  Had Madison’s words hurt him as badly as they had her?

  The thought weighed her down like cement shoes, but could she honestly blame him if he’d had enough?

  No. No, she couldn’t – not if she was being fair.

  Knowing him, his silence might be a form of nobility, his way of making it easier for her to do the right thing.

  For a split second, she resented him for it. Bitterness choked her, and then she sighed.

  Right or wrong, what she felt for him was too intense to forfeit. She’d never wanted anyone or anything as badly as she wanted the cop she’d misjudged so badly at first.

  He’d left imprints on her body and soul, and the longer he kept silent, the more they ached, threatening to transition into holes she’d never be able to fill with anyone else.

  * * * * *

  “I’m sorry, son. I’d tell you none of this is fair, but you already know that.”

  Elijah leaned on the railing of his parents’ back porch, a bottle of Landshark open in his hand. The condensation streamed over his fingers, but he had yet to take the first sip.

  His mom had been inviting him over for dinner daily since shit had hit the fan at work, and he’d finally accepted, unwilling to be alone with his thoughts anymore.

  Talking to his dad about the situation at work was a relief and a source of anxiety at the same time. His father was the smartest man he knew, but that just made it harder to admit to him that he’d screwed up. He wanted advice, but asking for it stung because it meant shining a spotlight on his shortcomings.

  “I hope you also know that this isn’t your fault.”

  Elijah turned to meet his father’s gaze. “Doesn’t matter, though, if everyone decides otherwise.”

  “The hell it doesn’t.” His father frowned.

  Elijah twirled the beer bottle in his hands, fingertips leaving dry trails against the slick glass. “I mean it won’t matter as far as the department or my future is concerned. I’ll never make detective. I won’t even keep my badge.”

  He feared it, yet at the same time, he could hardly comprehend it. What would he do with his life if he was forced to leave the police force?

  He couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  “I might be lucky to have a few last weeks of pushing papers behind an old desk. Internal affairs is still investigating.”

  That was what he’d been reassigned to: twelve tedious hours a day of paperwork and other administrative crap no one else wanted to do. And he knew he was lucky not to be flat-out suspended.

  “You know,” his dad said, “making detective comes with a hell of a lot of paperwork. Think of this as preparation for the day you graduate from patrol.”

  Elijah couldn’t laugh. The part of him that responded to humor had been switched off.

  The door to the back porch squeaked on its hinges, and he and his father both turned to see his mother standing there, her long blonde hair tied back into the braid she often wore when cooking.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said, “but no rush. I ate a late lunch and I’m keeping everything warm on the stove. Come on in whenever you’re ready to eat.”

  Despite her words, Elijah was overcome with the sudden sensation of sand sliding through the hourglass, of the window of opportunity drawing shut. There was something else he’d debated whether to ask for advice on, and a sense of urgency solidified his resolve.

  Even if his father had no advice worth giving, he could at least get it off his chest.

  Normally, he’d talk to Jackson if something was eating at him, especially something related to the job. But how could Jackson fully understand this?

  Belle adored Jackson, always had. They lived way up somewhere on cloud nine together.

  His parents, on the other hand, had been married for thirty years. You didn’t stay married that long without going through some shit.

  So he told his father about Peyton – about how the job had snaked its way between them and left their bond hanging by a thread.

  And then he braced himself for a blunt reply. His dad wasn’t one to sugarcoat anything, and this would be no exception.

  Why had he even asked? Silent seconds ticked by, and the back of his neck prickled. He could practically sense his dad’s crushing practicality hanging in the air like a fog.

  “There are always people who don’t like cops,” his dad said, “but this case sounds extreme.”

  The muscles in Elijah’s shoulders knotted. “Yeah.”

  “Her sister may not ever accept you.”

  The base of his neck began to ache.

  “Then again, she might.”

  “You think?”

  “Sometimes people surprise us.”

  It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Not from a decorated detective who’d spent decades navigating the dark underbelly of reality. People were predictable, weren’t they?

  Predictably dishonest. Predictably selfish. Predictably stupid. That described plenty of the criminals you ran into on the job.

  In Madison’s case, it was a matter of her being predictably protective. Predictably afraid.

  “I don’t think she’ll change her mind about me,” Elijah said. “I don’t think she’ll allow herself the chance. She’s angry and afraid. I can’t blame her. Would you?”

  “No.” His dad took a long drink from his beer and redirected his gaze at the peach tree in the back yard. “You know who I’m talking about when I mention your great grandmother Elizabeth?”

  “Mom’s dad’s mom.” He’d seen pictures. He’d met her as a baby, too – or so he knew from photos in his mom’s old family albums.
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  “Yeah. You’re too young to remember her, but she didn’t approve when your mother started seeing me.”

  “You weren’t a cop yet.” His parents had married before his dad had even enrolled in the academy.

  “It wasn’t about my job; it was about the color of my skin. It was different than your mother’s, and Elizabeth couldn’t stand that.”

  Elijah frowned. No one had ever breathed a word about his great grandmother being hostile toward his dad.

  “Really?”

  “Really. I didn’t think she was ever going to change.”

  “Did she?”

  “Yeah. About the time your older sister was born. I don’t know if it was that she finally accepted our marriage as permanent, or whether the baby melted some frozen corner of her heart, but things were different after that.”

  Elijah mulled it over. It was good that she’d set her prejudice aside, but how did that relate to him and Peyton? Madison’s prejudice wasn’t racism; it was a fear she had every right to feel, and it had nothing to do with his heritage or the color of his skin.

  It was about the choices he’d made, the badge he’d chosen to wear.

  “She apologized to me and your mother shortly before she passed,” his father continued. “I could tell she meant it. You were in diapers then. People can change, but that’s not the point. The point is that I had no reason to believe she ever would, and I married your mother anyway.”

  Elijah met his father’s gaze, carefully considering his words before he spoke. “I’m sure that was hard. But Peyton and her sister – they’re close. Real close. They live together and they work together. If Madison’s unhappy, Peyton can’t be happy.”

  His chest tightened as he realized how true the words he’d just spoken were.

  “Your mother and Elizabeth were close. Elizabeth’s behavior just about broke her heart, at first. But she never wavered because of it. She was strong, and a day doesn’t go by that I’m not glad she was.”

  “You think it would’ve been weak of her to spare you both all that unfairness?”

  “I’m not saying that our situation and yours are the same. They’re not. All I’m saying is that fear should never trump love. Neither should hate.”

  Elijah’s heart picked up speed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Was it really that simple?

  “There’s plenty of fear to go around,” his dad said. “Plenty of hatred. Not enough of the good stuff. If there’s anything my career taught me, that’s it. You’ll figure that out too.”

  Elijah flexed his shoulder muscles, willing the stiffness to go away.

  “You and mom loved each other, though.” They still did. He’d never doubted the authenticity of his parents’ bond, and it was hard to imagine them ever feeling anything less for each other.

  “I know you wouldn’t have brought this up if it wasn’t bothering the hell out of you. Whatever you feel for this woman, it must be serious.”

  Love. Was that what this was? Was that why the idea of walking away from Peyton felt sickeningly wrong, even when he wondered whether it would be the right thing to do?

  Yeah, maybe it was.

  But that didn’t mean she felt the same way about him. And there wasn’t a chance in hell of them ever working out if she didn’t.

  * * * * *

  The house was eerily silent when Peyton got home from work. “Jace?”

  Silence was nerve-wracking when you knew there was a kid around.

  “I’m in here.” His voice drifted from the living room, and as Peyton approached, so did the muted sounds of a cartoon played on low volume.

  “Why so hush-hush?” she asked, entering the room where he sat curled on a couch.

  “Mom’s sleeping.” He glanced at Peyton, then back at the cartoon. “I don’t think she feels good.”

  “Oh.” She crossed the room, then sank down onto the couch beside Jace. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay, well … how about some ice cream before bed?”

  That got him to perk up. “Okay.”

  “Be right back. I’m just gonna check on your mom. Then you and I can eat the last of the praline ice cream.”

  He nodded, and she slipped away.

  Madison was in her room, asleep. Peyton stood in the doorway until she’d seen her sister’s chest rise and fall a half a dozen times. When she was sure she was okay, she finally backed out.

  Ever since the accident, she hadn’t been able to shake the need to make sure Madison was breathing before she looked away. It was a side effect of coming so close to losing her. Would it ever go away?

  Maybe not. Or maybe it was lingering because she was still afraid of losing her sister, just in a different way.

  She scooped ice cream into bowls for herself and Jace, just like she’d promised. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to enjoy it, but she ate it anyway, pretending to watch his favorite cartoon.

  She didn’t want him to suffer – didn’t want him to feel forgotten or caught in the crossfire of her and Madison’s conflict.

  Maybe she was kidding herself – kids were anything but oblivious to what was going on around them – but she had to try.

  “Do anything fun at school today?”

  “Nah.”

  She was all too aware of her phone in her pocket. Every second that it didn’t ring made her even more curious about what Elijah was doing.

  More curious and more worried. Because despite everything – despite her guilt – she wanted to see him, or at least hear his voice.

  She didn’t know how to justify it, how to reconcile it to what she owed her sister. But she couldn’t deny it, either.

  And so, after Jace went to bed, she was sick of waiting and hoping to hear from Elijah.

  She grabbed her purse, dropped her phone inside and dug out her car keys. She’d just cracked the front door when she heard footsteps behind her, soft against the kitchen linoleum.

  She turned to face Madison, her gut knotting as she met her sister’s eyes.

  CHAPTER 24

  “You know you’re welcome to spend the night,” Elijah’s mom said.

  Elijah spooned leftovers from dinner into plastic storage containers. The food had been amazing, as always. And he wasn’t looking forward to the silence of his empty apartment.

  But he didn’t want to stay, either.

  “Thanks, but that’s all right. My place is just a short drive across the bridge. Hardly fifteen minutes.”

  She arched a blonde brow. “You’re being awfully optimistic about traffic.”

  He popped a lid onto a container of mashed potatoes. “For the record, I could make it in less than ten with lights and sirens.”

  Drive times on the island had little to do with distance and everything to do with traffic.

  “It’ll be at least a twenty minute drive, and that’s if you’re lucky. It won’t take me but a minute to make up a bed in your old room.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got some stuff I need to get caught up on at home.”

  There was only one thing he needed to get caught up on, really: returning Peyton’s calls.

  He felt like a dick for ignoring her, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to call her back. Not until he’d come up with something decent to say, anyway – something to justify the fact that he still wanted to be with her.

  His dad’s words had resonated, though – had struck a nerve that overshadowed the complexities of his moralization, his guilt.

  He loved her. He would at least let her know that.

  There was no telling what would happen afterward, but it was true: the world was a dark place. Peyton was light – what he felt for her was light – and in a dark world, that was something that mattered.

  * * * * *

  Peyton’s heart sank after the second knock.

  Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she stared at Elijah’s apartment door as doubt crept in. Was he not home?


  She hadn’t thought to check the parking lot for his vehicle. She did that now, dragging her gaze across rows of cars sprinkled with the occasional SUV or small pick-up truck.

  She was still looking when headlights flashed in her peripheral vision, and she craned her neck to see the new arrival.

  It was a dark-colored sedan, its paint muted by the night. Blue, maybe?

  Yeah, it was blue. And it was a Dodge.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she tightened her grip on her purse strap.

  She felt her pulse in her temples and fingertips, and her mouth grew strangely dry as Elijah climbed out of his car. She’d never been this nervous at the sight of him, not even when she’d first met him and had imagined him as some sort of villain there to make her day worse and her life harder.

  He saw her. That much was obvious when his eyes locked with hers. He never looked away as he approached.

  “Peyton. What are you doing here?” By the time he spoke, he was close enough to touch.

  “You didn’t return my calls.” God, she sounded like some sort of psycho ex-girlfriend.

  It stung to think of herself that way: as an ex. The psycho part was just icing on the cake.

  And yet, her pride took a backseat to the longing she felt when she looked at him. He didn’t look angry or shocked, just surprised.

  “I was trying to come up with the perfect thing to say when we spoke,” he said. “But I couldn’t. Still haven’t. Sorry I made you come all the way out here.”

  She was hyper-aware of the door just behind her. She ached to be past it, alone with him. His voice was good, but his touch – God, she’d melt at the lightest brush of his fingertips. There was no denying it.

  “I’m sorry about what happened at my place. I shouldn’t have told you to stop by.”

  “You didn’t. It was my idea, and it was a bad one. I should’ve had the sense not to invade your sister’s personal space.”

  “I’m sorry.” She was a broken record, but what else could she say? She had to exorcise her guilt somehow.

  He took a step closer, and she could practically feel his body heat radiating from beneath his thin t-shirt. He’d paired it with jeans and worn black Converse. He didn’t look like a cop, just then.