Heather Graham - The Night is Watching

The dead of night…

The Old West town of Lily, Arizona, is home to the Gilded Lily, a former theater…and 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, it’s agent Jane Everett. Jane’s 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 Lily…and she’s 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 danger—and 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 killer’s 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.”

—Lesa’s Book Critiques on The Unseen

“I am amazed at Graham’s 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 Graham’s 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, Graham’s atmospheric depiction of a lost city is especially poignant.”

—Booklist on Ghost Walk

“Graham’s rich, balanced thriller sizzles with equal parts suspense, romance and the paranormal—all 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 town’s main street. He felt tourists were missing out, because these summer mornings were beautiful, retaining the night’s 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 it—except 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, he’d named the place for his grandmother—not because she’d been beautiful or sweet, but because the Irishwoman had been blessed with the greatest tenacity he’d 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 sheriff’s office and jail, there’d 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 weren’t many shoot-outs. There weren’t 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-man—including one woman—force when he’d previously worked with hundreds of fellow officers.

But he’d come back to be with his grandfather when they’d first found out about his illness, and then stayed with him, tended to him, while the cancer slowly killed him. And now...

Now, he didn’t 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 he’d left the new sheriff’s office down the highway and come into the tourist end of town. There was another report from the old sheriff’s 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 Diamonds—a 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. They’d 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 change—that dark forces were coming to life in Lily, Arizona.