The dead of night
The Old West town of Lily, Arizona, is home to the Gilded Lily, a former theaterand bawdy house. These days, it offers theatrical productions geared to tourists, but the recent discovery of a skull, a real skull, among the props and costumes shakes everyone up.
So, who do you call? The Krewe of Hunters, a special FBI unit of paranormal investigators. In this case, its agent Jane Everett. Janes also a talented artist who creates images of the dead as they once were. But the Krewe always works with local law enforcement, and here that means Sloan Trent, former Houston cop and now sheriff. His great-great-grandmother was an actress at the Gilded Lilyand shes not resting in peace.
Then more remains appear in the nearby desert. As they search for answers, using all the skills at their disposal, Jane and Sloan find themselves falling into dangerand into love.
www.eHeatherGraham.com
Praise for the novels of
New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
Graham deftly weaves elements of mystery, the paranormal and romance into a tight plot that will keep
the reader guessing at the true nature of the killers evil.
Publishers Weekly on The Unseen
Suspenseful and dark. The culture and history
surrounding San Antonio and the Alamo are described
in detail. The transitions between past and present
flow seamlessly, the main characters are interesting
and their connection to one another is believable.
RT Book Reviews on The Unseen
A fast-paced story, involving history and ghost stories. Graham is skilled at creating intriguing,
mature characters involved in challenging situations.
Lesas Book Critiques on The Unseen
I am amazed at Grahams ability to create a magical story that works so well in the present when part of the facts lie in the past. The Uninvited is a saucy romantic murder mystery with ghosts taking center stage.
Joyfully Reviewed
The paranormal romantic mystery
is exhilarating and fast-paced.
Genre Go Round on The Unspoken
If you like mixing a bit of the creepy with a dash of sinister and spine-chilling reading with your romance, be sure to read Heather Grahams latest. Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.
Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
The paranormal elements are integral to the unrelentingly suspenseful plot, the characters are likable, the romance convincing and, in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, Grahams atmospheric depiction of a lost city is especially poignant.
Booklist on Ghost Walk
Grahams rich, balanced thriller sizzles with equal parts suspense, romance and the paranormalall of it nail-biting.
Publishers Weekly on The Vision
The Night is Watching
Heather Graham
www.mirabooks.co.uk
For Nan and Joe Ryan
and my one and only but
really great trip to
Tombstone with them!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Prologue
Mornings were quiet in Lily, Arizona.
A pity, Sloan Trent thought, walking up the two steps to the raised sidewalk of the towns main street. He felt tourists were missing out, because these summer mornings were beautiful, retaining the nights chill, while the days were often blazing.
Not surprisingly, the street was called Main Street. Sometimes, when the wind picked up, tumbleweeds actually swept down the street, along with little clouds of dust. The tourists loved itexcept on the few rainy days that turned the dirt road into a mud slide, which clearly explained the raised wooden sidewalks of the 1880s.
The entire town was built of wood; only a few of the newer dwellings on the outskirts were brick or concrete. When Lily was built, lumber had been the easiest material to acquire, so everything was made of wood. Even the jail.
It was probably a miracle that Lily had never burned to the ground. But, small and barren though it might be, the town was a survivor. Just naming it Lily had been a piece of optimism, but when Joseph Miller had first come in hopes of finding gold way back in the 1850s, hed named the place for his grandmothernot because shed been beautiful or sweet, but because the Irishwoman had been blessed with the greatest tenacity hed ever known, according to his memoir.
And Lily, Arizona, was a town that had held on tenaciously through good and bad, fair times and foul.
Sloan looked down the broad dusty road that had been preserved. Lily had almost been a ghost town, in the truly deserted sense; at one time, in the early 1900s, only three places of business had remained open, and since one had been the sheriffs office and jail, thered really just been two mercantile establishments, both hanging on by a thread. Those two had been the Paris Saloon and the theater, the Gilded Lily. Of course, staying afloat at that time in this dry Western town off the beaten track, on the road between Tucson and Tombstone, was a struggle, and the Gilded Lily had offered pretty tawdry entertainment in the guise of theater. Clearly, the place had been successful.
And because miners, ranchers, opportunists and downright outlaws enjoyed the services of the main saloon across the street and the bar in the theater, the jail did a booming business, as well.
Today, there werent many shoot-outs. There werent even many drunken brawls. It was strange to be sheriff back here after being with the Houston, Texas, police force. And strange to be head of a six-manincluding one womanforce when hed previously worked with hundreds of fellow officers.
But hed come back to be with his grandfather when theyd first found out about his illness, and then stayed with him, tended to him, while the cancer slowly killed him. And now...
Now, he didnt have the heart to leave again.
Ah, yes, here he was in Lily, Arizona, taking care of not-so-major crime!
And that, he reminded himself, was why hed left the new sheriffs office down the highway and come into the tourist end of town. There was another report from the old sheriffs office and jail, which was now being operated as a restaurant and bed-and-breakfast, known, naturally, as the Old Jail. It was featured on all the haunted shows that continually played on cable stations. Another theft had occurred.
The nineteenth-century office and jail sat next to the Gilded Lily, while the Paris Saloon and the old stables were across the street. While it was small in comparison to major tourist destinations like Tombstone, Lily had made something of a comeback. The other side of the saloon, in an old barbershop, had become a state-of-the-art salon and spa, and next to it, in the old general store, was a place called Desert Diamondsa souvenir shop that also boasted a pizza parlor, ice cream and a barista stand. It was also a small museum. Grant Winston, proprietor, had been around since practically the Dark Ages and he displayed his old newspapers and artifacts in a special climate-controlled room in the back.
Main Street was hopping as a tourist destination. The old stables offered horseback riding, day tours and haunted night tours. Theyd even arranged a few Styrofoam relics out in the desert to heighten the pleasure.
Shaking his head at the marvels of modern commerce, Sloan paused for a minute.
A breeze had picked up suddenly, and a large clump of sagebrush went skidding down the road before him. He was struck by the feeling that something was about to changethat dark forces were coming to life in Lily, Arizona.
He couldnt help grinning at his ridiculous feeling that the sudden chill in the air and the sweep of sagebrush could be a forewarning of some kind of evil.
He opened the door of the bed-and-breakfast. The old sheriffs desk was now the check-in counter, and the deputys desk held a sign that read Concierge.
Because, of course, in Lily, Arizona, you needed a concierge.
But the concierge did double duty, working the morning coffee and continental breakfast station that was laid out in the old gun room and pitching in when the gun room turned into a restaurant. The food wasnt bad and there was often a need for reservations, since the room held only six tables.
Sheriff, thank God youre here!
Mike Addison, owner and manager of the Old Jail, was at the sheriffs desk. He stood quickly when Sloan walked in.
I came right over, Mike, he said. What is it this time?
The couple in Room One! You know, Hardys cell, Mike said dramatically. They were robbed last night!
What happened?
They woke up this morningand their wallets had been stolen. I wouldnt believe it myself, Sloan, if they werent such fine people and if they werent so honestly upset. The husband says they were over at the Gilded Lily, they saw the show, had one nightcap and came back. As you know, only our guests have keys to the front and the cells. I swear, I cant figure out how someone could have gotten into their room!
Mike was in his thirties, tall, lean and earnest. Hed come out from Boston, having been a lover of all the Old West movies hed seen growing up, thanks to cable channels. Hed bought the jail from old Coot Stevens, whod first turned it into a B and B. Mike had worked hard to maintain its historic aspects and make it a nice place to stay. While the rooms were extremely smalltheyd started out as cells, after allthey featured beds with luxurious mattresses, exceptional air-conditioning and tales of the outlaws whod lived and died in the area, some in the cells and some at the scaffolding on Main Street.
Where are they? Sloan asked.
The breakfast room. I offered to spike their morning coffee, they were so upset. Jerry and Lucinda Broling.
Sloan nodded and went in. The walls were covered with various weapons and rifles dating from the early 1800s to the 1960s. The tables were stained wood, which gave the place atmosphere and was easy to clean.
The young couple in question certainly looked dejected enough as they sat at the table, heads bowed and shoulders slumped. They appeared to be in their late twenties. Jerry Broling glanced up with hope in his eyes as Sloan entered. Its the sheriff, honey. Hell do something. Everything will be fine, youll see! he said.
Lucinda, a blonde with cornflower-blue eyes, smiled tremulously. Shed been crying.
How do you do? Sloan Trent, he said, introducing himself. So, you think you were robbed during the night. In your room?
It had to be! Lucinda insisted. We went to the showits very funny, by the wayand afterward we stopped at the bar in the Gilded Lily.
We had Kahlua and cream, Jerry said.
I had Tia Maria. You had Kahlua and cream. Obviously, the robbery had made them both irritable.
Neither of us drank a lot, Jerry said. We
I hadnt been drinking at all, Lucinda broke in. Jerry was draining a few beers in the saloon during the show.
I wasnt even slightly buzzed. Jerrys tone was hard.
Lucinda waved a hand in the air. I paid for the drinks.
And thats the last time you saw your wallets? Sloan asked. At the saloon and the bar?
Mine never came out of my pocket. It shouldve been in my jeans this morning, Jerry said.
Lucinda waved a hand in the air. Id been using my credit card. Jerry hadnt paid for anything all day. His might have been anywhere. But I know that my wallet was in my purse when I went to bed.
Sloan nodded thoughtfully. I understand you were in Room One.
Ive already searched it, Jerry told him.
We even pulled the mattress up, Lucinda said.
Did you ask at the Gilded Lily?
Well, theyre not open this early, are they? Jerry asked.
Not for business, but they have rehearsals, meetings... The costumer goes in to sew up rips and tears and so on.
Mike was at the door. I called. Spoke to Henri Coque. Theyre up and about, working down in the old storage room digging up more wigs. He went up to the bar area and searched through everything. Couldnt find any credit cards. Talked to everyone he could, but no one handed in a lost wallet.
So, you were in Trey Hardys cell, Sloan said.
They nodded. Excuse me. Ill give the place a search, too, if you dont mind.
The couple looked at him doubtfully. Sheriff, theres a thief in this town, Lucinda said.
A low-down, no-account pickpocket! Jerry muttered.
Stop trying to sound like some Old West bank robber, Lucinda groaned.
Lucinda
Sloan left the squabbling couple, passed through the barred wooden door to the cells and walked down the length of the hallway. The door to Room One, the Trey Hardy cell, was open.
Hardy had been a true character in his day. A Confederate cavalry lieutenant who had lost everything during the Civil War, hed started robbing banks. He was a hero to some back in Missourijust like Jesse James. Hed stolen from the carpetbaggers to give back to the citizens. Hed been dashing and handsome, and when things had gotten hot for him in Missouri, hed gone farther. But in Lily he came up against another ex-Confederate, Sheriff Brendan Fogerty. Fogerty felt that the war was over, and ex-Reb or not, Hardy wasnt stealing from the citizens of Lily, Arizona. Hed taken Hardy in after winning a fistfight on Main Street. Hardy had promised to come willingly if Fogerty bested him. To a cheering crowd, he had turned himself in when Fogerty had pinned him. Sadly, unknown to Fogerty, his deputy, Aaron Munson, had a long-standing beef with anyone whod fought against the Union. Before Hardy could be brought to trial, Munson shot Hardy down in his cell, only to be dragged out to the street and lynched himself by a furious mob enamored of the handsome Hardy.