The Stroke of Midnight Read online

  “I don’t think...”

  “No.” Riker shot him down more rudely than Devon would have, but since the end result was the same, she made no comment. Before Andrew could grow indignant, Riker slipped a hand under his pudgy arm. “But you and I are going to have a little chat.”

  “Oh dear.” Mandy, resplendent in a lime green silk sheath that feathered daintily around her still shapely ankles, joined Devon. “He looks irked.”

  Devon watched the two men leave. “Is that bad?”

  “Usually, although he’s quite even-tempered as a rule. Humorous, too, when you get to know him. I don’t suppose you’ve seen much of that side yet.”

  “Not much,” Devon agreed. Though she’d glimpsed a sweetness and patience that she’d found both confounding and endearing.

  Mandy fluffed her sprayed blond hair. “He needs a good woman is all. Never quite had one—” a shrewd brow went up. “Until now?”

  Devon refused to blush, or to meet Mandy’s inquisitive gaze. “He must have thought he found the right woman when he got married. Delia, wasn’t it?”

  “Who? Oh—right. Yes. I forgot.” Mandy fidgeted with her puffed sleeve. “I wasn’t with Rudy then.” Her brow knit. “Was I? No, I don’t think so.”

  Something churned in Devon’s stomach. She banked it to ask, “How long have you been with Rudy?”

  “Two years.”

  “Riker’s wife died ten years ago, Mandy.” Her fingers tightened on the glass. “Why are you so nervous all of a sudden? Is there something about Riker that I should know?”

  “Good Lord, no.” Mandy’s laugh almost rang true. “He’s a puzzle, I’ll admit. But if you’ve got any evil thoughts running through your head, you can just shoo them out right now.”

  Could she? Devon never felt entirely sure. Riker concealed something behind that emotional barricade of his. Did that something involve his dead wife? Or was it, God forbid, a more malevolent problem than that?

  No, she wouldn’t think that way. Riker had no evil tendencies. She loved him. He couldn’t be bad.

  But why did Mandy suddenly seem so flustered? There must be a reason....

  “Ah, there you are, my dear.” The crowd parted to let Alma stroll through. Her tidy black dress stopped just short of prim. “And you must be Rudy’s better half.” A firm hand came out. “He’s told me a great deal about you. Mandy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Mandy’s eyes flicked to Devon then away. “Rudy’s spoken of you as well. Unfortunately, I lost track of him over near the bar. Then, I got turned around, and, well...”

  Alma laughed. Devon noticed that her punch glass was heavily lipsticked and empty. “In that case, we’ll have to unturn ourselves and find him.” Winking, she hooked arms with the other woman. “We’ll follow my brother, shall we? In a galactic labyrinth, he’d select the most direct route to the bar.” She perused the swarm of elegant bodies around her. “On the other hand, he seems to have disappeared as well. And here I am out of punch. Roscoe?” Her voice rose several decibels. “Where are you, man? My glass is empty, and my brother’s missing.”

  Certain they’d reach their destination eventually, Devon left the women and scanned the doorway through which Riker had ushered Andrew. Cop Riker she reminded herself, into whose life she had no right to pry. Maybe that’s what had flummoxed Mandy. Riker didn’t strike her as a man who would appreciate intrusion, especially when it pertained to him.

  She spied him finally and, with a smile, headed towards him. Rudy, scowling fiercely, walked alongside him, his leathery face all creases and worry lines.

  Devon raised her glass as they approached. “I trust you left Andrew in one piece. I haven’t mentioned it, but his father’s a corporate lawyer.”

  Riker’s lips twitched. “He mentioned it quite loudly as I was backing him into the washroom wall.”

  “A verbal backing, I hope. Andrew’s not above crying police brutality.

  Rudy sniggered. “Told you he was the type, kid. They just talked, Devon. Riker here favors the good cop role.”

  Funny, it didn’t strike Devon that he’d favor that role at all. The churning in her stomach returned, albeit at a manageable level. She opted for a teasing tone to combat it. “I thought only the bad cops wore black, Riker.”

  His eyes danced, surprising her. “I’m wearing red underwear. Besides, you’re wearing black.”

  “Ah, but my outfit shimmers. And it has a slit up the back.”

  “I noticed that.”

  Reddening, Rudy tugged at his striped tie. “Hot in here, isn’t it? Think I’ll go grab some fresh air. You two carry on and—”

  “Jacob?” A woman’s lilting voice cut through the din of music and chatter. “It is you, isn’t it? I thought I recognized that gorgeous face.” A striking brunette jostled Rudy’s arm causing him to slop his drink. Laughing, she planted a kiss on Riker’s mouth, stood back and beamed. “You look wonderful, darling.”

  Devon didn’t say a word. Rudy spluttered. Riker stared, narrow-eyed.

  “Jacob?” The woman batted her lashes. “Don’t you remember me? The Blue Fox? Last year? You were following up on that story about gigolos and how they—well, I won’t go into detail. Good Lord,” she exclaimed in the same breath. “You’re Devon Tremayne, aren’t you? Of course you are. I saw you on a television commercial. “City Life” on the Wave. Is Jacob—” She glanced over. “Are you interviewing Ms. Tremayne?”

  The mask slipped into place as it invariably did. “Something like that, Ms...?”

  She huffed. “White, darling. Eden. For heaven’s sake, we had dinner, took in a show. You remember!”

  Riker studied her, half-lidded. “Actually, I don’t.”

  “Well, then I’m insulted.” She gave a little wave over his head. “Yes, I’m coming, dear. Must run.” Her fingers curled briefly around Riker’s arm and squeezed. “You do remember, I’m sure you do. Call me sometime and we’ll...talk.” Another wag of her fingers and she was gone.

  Confusion temporarily blanked Devon’s mind, except for the green tinge now coloring the room.

  “Well,” she said. “That was...interesting.” Only her lips registered a smile. “Jacob?”

  Riker held her gaze. “It’s a long story, Devon. One thing I can promise you is that I’ve never met that woman before.”

  “Ah-ah.” Rudy tapped his forearm. “Wait a minute, now. You could have done.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Rudy, I’d know if I’d met her.”

  “Not necessarily. There was that case last year, remember? Two men dead. Suspected smuggling operation. You posed as a reporter, checked out the Blue Fox one night. Turned as green as a Christmas tree next morning,” Rudy confided to Devon. “Undercover cops have to play the part all the way sometimes. A few glasses of 150-proof whiskey, and you could meet a chorus line of Eden Whites and not remember them. On the other hand,” he took Devon’s cold fingers in his and raised them to his lips, “no man could ever forget Devon Tremayne.”

  A charming remark, but Devon wasn’t prepared to buy charm.

  Riker sighed. “I’ve never met the woman, Rudy, drunk, undercover or otherwise.”

  Devon eyed him levelly. “She seemed to know you well enough.”

  “It can only be the Fox stint,” Rudy insisted. “This sort of thing happens from time to time, kid. You know it does. It’s the price we pay for hitting the streets.”

  Devon believed that. What she didn’t trust was the frown that invaded Riker’s lean features. No, there was more to this than either man was telling, something that involved Riker’s guard-wall defense system and her inability to see through it.

  Capturing her jaw in his long fingers, Riker locked his gaze on hers. “Trust me, Devon. I’ll explain everything to you as soon as I can. I need to find that woman before she leaves here. Just believe me when I tell you that I have no idea who she is.”

  “I—” Devon drew a deep breath, released it. “—maybe.” She half believed him. But people ha
d died in the past for believing falsely. She wondered with a twinge of discomfort what the seven victims of the Christmas Murderer had believed. And more importantly—her eyes slid to Riker—in whom.

  JACOB’S PALM HIT the frosty cornerstone with force. His head dropped back; his breath steamed up toward the cloudy night sky. He’d lost her. How the hell had he lost her?

  Out of breath, he leaned against the wall of the all-night bar and grill and attempted to regain his bearings. He was somewhere near the downtown core. Nightclubs, a flock of them, stretched out in a zig-zag pattern to his left. Not the glitziest clubs in the city, but you could spend time in them and still have your wallet in your pocket when you left. He should know. She’d led him a merry chase through several of them.

  Eden White... Grunting, Jacob pushed off from the stonework and cut across the street to an empty phone booth. He’d never heard of the woman. Which was undoubtedly why she’d taken off like a jack rabbit the minute she’d left him at the Kat.

  Nudging up his coat sleeve he squinted at his watch. One in the morning. He’d been on the woman’s trail for two hours. Devon was not going to be in a good mood when he got back to the apartment.

  Holding his gloves in his teeth, he inserted a quarter and dialed her number. No answer. She must be with Hannah. He prayed to God she was with Hannah. Hanging up, he tried Rudy. Mandy grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

  “Rude there?”

  “No. He’s not here?” He could tell her foot tapped in annoyance. “I wish he was. You, too. We’d all like our turn with you, boyo.”

  Jacob’s chest contricted. “Who’s ‘we all?’”

  “Hannah, Alma and me. I rounded them up after you and Sarge decided to chase floozies. Alma’s brother went missing about the same time as you knuckleheads took off. We lost Roscoe to the search and rescue of Warren.”

  Jacob’s heart thudded against his ribs. “What about Devon?”

  “She left with one of the radio station’s disk jockeys. A woman. Teddi, I think Hannah called her. Said she needed some space for a couple of hours, that they were going to Teddi’s and she’d phone in the morning.”

  “Did you say anything to Devon before she left, Mandy?”

  “No. Not for lack of wanting to, mind you, but since Rudy’s involved, I held my tongue.” Her fingers covered the mouthpiece. “In the top cupboard, Hannah, next to the cereal. We’re making coffee, Detective Riker.” A cobra would have spit the last two words out with less venom. “You’re welcome to join us, providing you round up Devon and Rudy first. And Warren and Roscoe if you happen to stumble across them. We’ll swap lies when you get here. But I warn you, Devon’s feeling mighty mistrustful at the moment. You’ll have to make your lie a convincing one.”

  A click of the handset conveyed her feelings on the subject of lies with perfect clarity.

  “She’s pissed,” Jacob acknowledged, and laid his forehead against the cold plastic of the telephone casing.

  He prayed that Devon was safe with Teddi Waters. Not that praying was sufficient to satisfy him. He’d have to detour by Teddi’s home and make sure that Devon was there.

  Frustration hacked at his senses. Except for waking up in bed next to Devon, this had been a spectacularly lousy day. He’d gone to Dugan earlier, hoping to strike a deal and had wound up leaving with no idea whether he’d succeeded or not. Dugan could be as ornery as a mule when it suited his purpose.

  Then there’d been the murderer’s latest note to Devon. Another threat that couldn’t be traced. And now a strange brunette arrived on the scene, claiming to know him despite the fact that Jacob knew he’d never seen her before. Where the hell, he reflected, jerking his head up, had the woman gone? More to the point, who’d sicced her on him in the first place?

  Someone who wanted him exposed as a phony. Jimmy maybe? But Jimmy Flaherty had vanished. Warren, then, or the idiot dentist?

  Wind howled in freakish gusts around the corners of the phone booth. He heard it as a distant sound, only really becoming aware of it when the howl grew suddenly louder.

  He felt it swirl in and blow the hair into his eyes. But the only way it could swirl in was if somebody had opened the door.

  He wheeled but knew with a sinking feeling that he’d already forfeited the advantage.

  The impact caught him on the side of his head, sending shock waves of pain and blinding white light back to front through his skull. A black fog followed the light as he dropped to the icy sidewalk. He glimpsed a shadow, possibly wearing a ski mask. Beneath it shone a pair of marbled eyes. No way to determine the color in the poor street light.

  Jacob’s cheekbone hit the concrete with a crack that echoed like a gunshot in his head. His attacker’s hissed words wafted in like a vapor. “I killed the woman I loved once. Now I’ll kill the woman you love and give you credit for it. A touch of ironic justice, Sydney Carton, in our own poetic tale....”

  “RIKER, WAKE UP.” On her knees in the snow, Devon darted a frightened glance into the darkness, then shook his shoulder again. “For God’s sake, wake up, will you?”

  At last, a low moan rolled out of him. Terrified and relieved, Devon shook harder. “Come on, Riker, please snap out of it. Whoever hit you probably isn’t that far away.”

  His bleary eyes opened a fraction. “Devon?” His voice emerged as a croak. “What are you...?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she hissed, looking around again. There were people farther along the street but no one in the immediate area. No one visible, that is.

  She caught hold of his arm as he endeavored to lever himself upright. On his knees, still bent over, he rubbed the side of his head. “Devon...” Oddly, his look of annoyed displeasure helped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She brushed at his hair with short strokes, then, catching herself, pulled back. “I followed you.”

  The flash of pure anger in his face had to be a good sign. He wouldn’t glare if he was seriously wounded. Still, mistrust continued to nag. “That was a stupid thing to do, Devon.”

  “I know.” She glanced back then snagged his wrist. “I almost lost you outside the Kat, but I recognized your lead-footed driving style in the parking lot and caught up.”

  “Where’s Teddi?”

  “At home, I imagine.” Her uneasy eyes scanned the shadows. “Look, this isn’t a good place for a cross-examination. I know you have questions. Believe me, I have more. Let’s get out of here first and sort the answers out later.”

  He winced when she helped him to his feet. As he gained his balance, the only sound he made was a muttered, “I can’t believe I didn’t see the bastard.”

  Emotions too divergent to separate clogged Devon’s throat. “I saw him,” she said steadily. “At least, I saw someone in a bulky black coat disappearing down the street. Then I saw you.”

  “Which way did he go?”

  “Toward the river.”

  She watched his hand disappear inside his long coat, saw his eyes close in disbelief. “My gun,” he said in a monotone. “He took my gun.”

  Edgy, Devon pulled on his arm. “You’re lucky that’s all he took. He could have shot you while he was at it.”

  “Or you.”

  “I waited until I was sure he’d gone.”

  Riker cast a wary look over his shoulder. “Why take my gun? He must have had a reason.”

  At the crosswalk, Devon checked both directions, then pushed him toward the all-night bar and grill. “You said he might be framing you. Maybe taking your gun was part of that plan.”

  It startled her when, at the curb, Jacob swore and spun, fists clenched, eyes sparking with fury.

  “What?”

  “The gun.” His right fist curled and uncurled. “It isn’t mine, Devon.”

  Fear made her sharp. “Whose is it, then?”

  He turned to her grim-faced. “It’s Rudy’s old police special.”

  POOR GINA. He gazed down on her pityingly. The story played like a dirge in his mind.


  Beautiful hooker, shot in cold blood by the man who called himself Detective Riker, the man Gina had so obligingly called Jacob tonight. Riker, né Jacob Price, had apparently not liked having his impersonation jeopardized. Of course, he’d have no trouble wriggling out of a tight spot courtesy of a lie or two, but seeds of doubt planted in the fertile soil of Devon Tremayne’s mind would be difficult to uproot.

  He blinked, regarded the stolen gun first, then Gina’s motionless form. A shame really that she’d needed to die, but uppity women asked for punishment when they crossed him, and Gina hadn’t wanted to do this favor. The absolute gall of it. How many favors had he done for her? Well, maybe not as many as she would have liked, but even one deserved a payback.

  She’d paid him back in spades tonight, or would when his version of the truth came out.

  Not yet, though, he thought, pocketing the gun. Not until Devon was dead and all the deaths could be pinned on Jacob Price.

  He turned to Gina’s apartment window. His view was blocked by her Christmas tree. The half-packed cardboard boxes strewn around the room indicated that she’d been planning to move. Uptown, no doubt, to an environment more befitting the whore of a state justice.

  Without intending to, his gaze landed on top of the tree where a blue-lit angel hovered, wings spread, harp in hand.

  The song burst out in his head, so unexpectedly that he clapped his hands over his ears. The words shrieked into his brain, sung, it sounded like to him, by a legion of gremlins. But it was the angels who sang, wasn’t it? Angels did that, played their harps and sang.

  He brought his head up. His eyes felt teary and red, fired with an emotion much deadlier than misery. Why, his thoughts screamed to a seemingly indifferent heaven, had the angel he’d loved sung for everyone but him?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jacob’s cheek throbbed, but no more than the rest of his body. He hurt everywhere, and, dammit, he still wanted Devon. A teenager would have better control, he thought in disgust.