Witching Hour (5 page)

The lines around Brandon’s lips tightened, but he didn’t give Cal the usual scowl. “Ah, Ms. Harper. I was wondering if anyone was coming for her. She’s in the back. Let’s take a look at her file. I wasn’t on shift when they brought her in.”

He led the way over to his desk, flipping through a series of reports before smiling. “Here it is. Looks like they brought her in last night. Report says they tried for hours to get a name or number from her, but when she finally seemed to gain any kind of coherent moment, all she did was say your name, over and over. One of the officers found your information in her bag. And, well, here you are.” He looked up at Cal. “I hope it was okay that they called you.”

“Perfectly fine. I’ve known Jordan since she was three. I was just…surprised. I haven’t seen her for some time.”

“That accident with her brother I presume.”

Cal’s mouth gaped open before he had the good sense to shut it.

Brandon sighed. “There’s a lot of time spent waiting on maneuvers. We all tend to talk more than we should. Dylan mentioned something about it being the catalyst to you traipsing off to Scotland.”

“I went to Scotland to get my PhD in parapsychology.” Cal huffed when the other man merely stared at him with a knowing smile. “The fact it gave me some distance was purely coincidental.”

“Purely.” Brandon motioned toward a hallway. “She’s down here. They put her in a separate room. Looks like she hit her head pretty hard. The night shift had a doctor check her out, but other than a non-threatening concussion, he said she was fine. They kept her up until the man gave them the go ahead. She’s been sleeping since I came on shift a couple of hours ago.”

Cal frowned, following the deputy down the corridor. “Do you mind me asking why she’s even here to begin with? I didn’t get much information over the phone, and I know for a fact she doesn’t live in Massachusetts.”

Peters read through the papers. “Seems we got a report of suspicious activity out at the Winslow farm last night. When the patrol car showed up, she’d just bolted out of the house and fallen down the stairs. She mumbled something about ghosts and a permit, but…” He stopped and turned to Cal. “In light of the history of that place, the management company has placed a strict no trespassing restriction after midnight. There’s simply been too many accidents to let folks run around in there, even if the owners grant permission.”

“Jordan’s hardly a curious frat student out on a dare. She’s become quite the respected paranormal investigator. I’m confident she was simply searching for otherworldly interaction and lost track of time. Night is the best chance for catching paranormal evidence. Fewer ambient noises around to contaminate the scene.”

“As you know, the girl picked a hell of a house to investigate. We’ve had three more suicides there in the past six months. One just a couple of weeks ago.” He shook his head. “If you ask me, whatever residual energy’s hiding in there isn’t playing nicely with the living.”

Cal gawked at the man. “So, you’re not here to tell me you think she’s crazy and to ponder how the hell Dylan and I are twins?”

Brandon laughed. “I assure you. I’ve seen some pretty weird shit in my time. And you can’t work in Salem without at least entertaining the idea of ghosts and witches. But that doesn’t change the fact the lady was trespassing, not to mention the fact the report says she seemed…
off
when she arrived.”

“No doubt due to the blow to the head. And you’re not seriously going to keep her here because she can’t tell time, are you?”

Brandon shook his head. “It’s not quite that simple. She can’t be formally cleared until a judge signs her off. And the man just left. He’ll be back on Monday.”

“So she’s stuck here for the better part of three days?”

Brandon gave him the once over. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll call the judge and see if he’ll allow me to release her into your custody as long as you agree to be responsible for her and promise me you’ll have her ass back here on Monday.” He pointed a finger at Cal. “But only because I know your brother and wouldn’t hesitate to call the man up if you screw me over on this.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Fine.” He unlocked the door. “She’s all yours. I’ll have the papers waiting on my desk and her personal affects in a bag. Just do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t go poking around where you shouldn’t be. We both know there’s something wrong with that house. I consider it a blessing she only hit her head. If you ask me, she was running from something far worse.” He took a few heavy steps away, glancing at Cal over his shoulder. “And I’d hate to have to tell Dylan I let his twin brother get himself killed under my watch.”

“Point taken. I’ll do my best to tame the little minx.”

“Good luck with that. Even half-conscious, she seemed determined to get back in that house. I suggest you don’t let her out of your sight.”

Cal smiled, waiting until the man disappeared into the main office before pushing the door open. The room swung into view, revealing beige walls, an oversized mirror and a single cot pressed against the far wall. But it wasn’t the lack of furnishings that held his attention. It was her. All five-foot-five, long blonde hair and strong, athletic inch of her. She was lying on the thin mattress, one arm tucked under her head as her chest rose and fell gently with every breath. A small bandage graced one side of her forehead, the white color bright against the slight bronze of her skin. Her hair fell in a curtain of gold around her shoulders, much longer than he remembered. And her jeans hugged her curves as if they’d been painted on her skin.

He took a deep breath, cursing the hint of floral sweetness that tantalized his senses. It was the same perfume she’d worn the last time he’d seen her, and the memory dampened some of his enthusiasm. He’d left without so much as a proper goodbye. But knowing he’d let her down—lost the only person who’d really meant anything to her—had been more than he’d been able to bear.

Cal glanced back at the door. Something Brandon had said tweaked another memory. That she’d been
off
when they’d dragged her in here. He seemed to recall Avery saying the same thing about Dave that night just before all hell had broken loose, and the man had willingly jumped out the window.

He sighed, pushing the painful images aside as he made his way over to the cot, wondering what she’d gotten herself into this time. He’d heard she had a bad habit of getting into trouble over the past several years, her curiosity outweighing her good sense more often than not. But then she probably wouldn’t be as successful as she was if she’d never broken a few rules. The thought made him smile. She’d always been a feisty brat—part of the reason he’d fallen so hard for her—and he was glad she hadn’t lost that spark, even if he didn’t know why she’d been mumbling
his
name after all this time. Though he’d only be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t happy to see her again.

A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. God, she was just as beautiful. Maybe more so than before. Ten years had done nothing to temper the easy symmetry of her face or mar the smooth perfection of her skin. If anything, she’d come into her beauty. There was an air about her, even sleeping, that spoke of confidence. And if there was any truth to the stories he’d read about her, she had plenty of reason to be confident. Successful ghost hunter. Owner and chief investigator of Witching Hour Investigations, she’d come a long way in a field that had just recently acquired scientific acceptance, even if that acceptance was still sketchy. But either way, she wasn’t the awkward girl he’d lost his heart to.

The truth hit him hard, and he clenched his jaw. That was ancient history. He’d given up any hope of gaining her affection when he’d taken off, leaving her when he knew she’d needed him most. But Dave’s last words had played over in his head. And despite the fact he wanted to believe the entity at the house had put those words in Dave’s mouth, he couldn’t shake the fact that he simply wasn’t good enough for her.

Jordan moaned, rolling her head as she shifted on the bed. He inched closer, lowering himself to the edge of the cot, careful not to move her as the crappy mattress gave beneath his weight. She exhaled and shifted her legs, brushing one across his side. The innocent contact sent a spark of heat surging through his veins, and he had to fist his hands in his lap to keep from drawing them through her hair. Seeing if it felt as silky as it looked.

God, how many times had he dreamed of touching her? Of giving into the rush of emotions he’d had for longer than he’d care to admit? Hell, he’d finally gotten up the nerve to broach the subject with Dave, determined to get the man’s approval before doing anything that might jeopardize their friendship, only to have the guy’s final words be how unsuitable Cal was for Jordan. And though he realized the circumstances had been suspect at best, Cal had never been able to shake the uncertainty that had surfaced. Hell, he’d gone all the way to Scotland just to get her out of his mind, yet here he was, a decade later, still lost at just the sight of her.

Cal closed his eyes, wondering if he should just dart out the door when a whispered gasp breathed through the air. He forced his eyelids open, instantly pinned by the gleam of her hazel eyes, the stunning gold tinge making his heart miss a beat. Her mouth hung slightly open as if she’d forgotten how to close it, as she stared at him, seemingly unable to look away.

He gave her a warm smile, trying to remember why he’d run away in the first place as he reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. The soft length tickled his skin, and he had to resist the urge to gather it in his hand as he took advantage of her open mouth.

Jordan seemed frozen, her eyes wide, her breath held. It wasn’t until he brushed a thumb across her cheek that she coughed out her breath, grimacing as she reached for her head. A flicker of pain registered in her eyes as she squinted them, though he didn’t know if it was from the light or the concussion.

He trailed his fingers over hers. “Jordan? Sweetheart, are you okay? Should I get the doctor?”

She gave him a slight shake of her head, obviously not wanting to move it too much as she hissed out another breath, once again staring at him. Her head cocked to the side before she extended her hand, running it along his jaw. “Cal? God, is that really you?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the raspy tone to her voice. “For better or worse.” He motioned to her forehead. “How’s the pain in your head now?”

Her brow furrowed, her confusion more than evident. “My head?” She drew her hand to her forehead again, this time tracing along the bandage. She made several passes before frowning. “I…fine, I guess. It hurts, but…I don’t…”

Her words came in spurts, as is she didn’t have a clue what had happened. He pursed his lips together, preparing to call Brandon and have the doctor take another look at her when her hand snagged his wrist. He glanced down at her, all thoughts fading into the simple beauty of her face and how she seemed as mesmerized as he did.

He trailed his fingers over her arm, finally cupping his hand atop hers. “Do you know where you are?”

Her eyes shifted, scanning the room before she sighed, shaking her head. “Should I?”

“It’s generally a good sign when people remember getting arrested.”

“Arrested?” She pushed up, immediately falling back down as she palmed her head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Cal grabbed her shoulders, helping her shuffle on the cot until her back braced against the wall as her feet swung off the edge of the bed, dangling an inch off the floor. He waited until she could balance on her own before easing his hands away, prepared to lunge forward if she swayed.

He leaned closer. “I was hoping you’d tell me. All I know is that they brought you in here last night, and that you were mumbling my name.”

She looked away as if trying to gather her thoughts, when her eyes opened wide, and she turned to him, that familiar gleam he’d admired when she’d been younger shining back at him. Her slight smile faded as she levered up, broadcasting her intentions as she readied her hand in her lap.

Cal caught her wrist before she could do more than raise her arm. He tsked at her, motioning to the mirror centered on the other wall. “Now, now, sweetheart. It’d be best not to put on too much of a show before I’ve got you out of here. Unless you honestly think that mirror’s here so you can fix your makeup.”

She clenched her jaw, sliding her gaze toward the wall before slowly lowering her hand. He smiled, holding back a chuckle at the way she glared at him. She wasn’t just upset. She was pissed. Good. He didn’t want to be the only one feeling out of place. The only one who wasn’t quite sure whether to run or fight, though he had to admit…fighting with her didn’t sound quite as bad as it should.

He gave her one last hardened look before releasing her arm. “Does your change in attitude mean you remember what happened last night?”

She huffed, grazing the bandage on her forehead again. “Some. But it’s still pretty foggy.”

“That happens when you try to crack your head open.” He pushed to his feet, taking a few heavy steps away. He needed some breathing room before he asked her what was really on his mind. Hell, what made his blood feel like liquid fire inside his veins. He drew a deep breath, reminding himself to keep his voice even as he spun to face her. “Do you remember going to the Winslow house?”

The fine lines around her eyes deepened as she pulled her lips tight, glancing away before drawing herself up and meeting his heated stare. A flicker of pain flashed in her eyes again, but it faded just as quickly. “Yes.”

“Care to tell me why you thought that was a good idea when more people have had died there recently?”

“I think we both know why I was there, Cal.”

“You have a death wish?”

She cursed, pushing to her feet, ignoring the way she nearly fell over as she palmed the head rail of the cot when her body swayed sharply. “Maybe I just wanted to know the truth.”

“And maybe you should have called me first before you went in there…alone.”

She laughed, but it was obviously not because she found anything funny. “Called you? You’ve been missing in action for ten years. You’re the last person I thought would ever show up here again. And don’t look at me as if I’ve lost my mind. You know it’s true.” She held his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And I’ve been alone for a long time. If I let that stop me, I wouldn’t have gotten this far.”