Cold Case Recruit

by Jennifer Morey

  “He didn’t say you were humble, but that’s a nice quality.” Or was it bittersweetness that made his grin fade? Maybe he didn’t like the reminder of his work in Alaska.

  A plane rolled up to the terminal, the engines wining, and another ground crew worked quickly to service the private flight.

  “Kadin’s been more communicative with you than me.” He nodded toward her plane. “He didn’t mention you were a pilot.”

  “I’m a pilot,” she said happily. Glancing back at her highwing, blue-and-white De Havilland with conventional landing gear, she felt a familiar pride come over her. She’d loved flying ever since she was a kid. “I wasn’t one of those people who had a hard time deciding what to do for a living.”

  He admired her plane with those light gray eyes, glimmering and intelligent. They shifted to her, lasers penetrating. A pleasurable zing stunned her for a second.

  “Why Alaska?” he asked.

  “Um...” She cleared her throat in discomfort. What was the zing all about? “I’m... I’m from here.” She tugged the ends of her thick, wavy black hair, needing humor to get her past this awkward moment. Next, she pointed to her blue eyes. “Native American even with these. My mother is from New York. I inherited her attitude, too.”

  He laughed low and breathy. “Where did you learn to fly?”

  “I joined the air force and would have been a fighter pilot, but I was too petite for the g-force.” Yes, focus on that and not her reaction to him. Bush piloting had saved her after Noah’s murder. She’d gotten much more daring since then.

  She saw how his gaze lost professionalism as it roamed down her body and back up again. “You still are.”

  The zing heated into unmistakable attraction. Any single woman would notice this man’s good looks. Add strong, manly confidence and hotness oozing from every one of his pores.

  Flashes of Noah, glimpses of times passed—anchors of grief that had been her constant companion in the days and months following his murder—swallowed her. Noah, laughing with her the morning of his death over a cute kid in a commercial. They’d talked about having another child, maybe trying for a girl. Noah, holding her during a dance at a local festival, looking at her with all his love in his eyes. She had often marveled over her luck in finding him, wondering why her. And then he’d been ripped from her in the most horrific way. Something so beautiful and pure, slaughtered.

  It had been a year, long enough to be on her way healing, but not long enough. She needed more time. She couldn’t let go. Not yet.

  “So...” she said, “about the file...”

  Wearing his professional face again, Brycen said, “The police did a standard job collecting evidence and questioning witnesses and anyone your husband came into contact with prior to the shooting.” Was he being a detective or did he wonder how deep her feelings ran for a dead man? Deep. She didn’t have to tell him.

  Relieved he’d recognized their unexpected chemistry and how that might crowd her while she searched for her husband’s killer, she said, “Standard?”

  “They asked all the expected questions. Did they ask you if he had any enemies?”

  She nodded. “They did, and he didn’t. Not that I was aware. He was a good man. Well respected by everyone who knew him.”

  “What I found missing was a closer look into those who came in contact with him prior to his murder. They were all questioned and leads checked, but I saw no further investigation.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant. How much further could those who’d come in contact with Noah be investigated? If they had no involvement, they couldn’t be charged with murder.

  “Tell me about the attempted rape,” he said. “Your version.”

  The attacker had gotten away, but he must know that. He must be looking for inconsistencies, something that might change the investigation. “Noah didn’t mention anything to me, but his partner said she tried to keep them from getting out of control and they kept coming on to her. Eventually they were asked to leave. A few nights later, she was attacked leaving work. She fought and got away.”

  “Did your husband’s partner make any observations about the people he questioned?”

  “You mean, like habits or appearances?” She shook her head. “No. He stuck to the case.”

  “And the domestic violence call?” he asked. “What turned up there? Your version.”

  “Carter.” In case he didn’t recall or know yet, she added, “Carter Nichols was Noah’s partner.”

  Brycen nodded once.

  “He didn’t mention anything significant. The wife refused to press charges and there was no evidence of abuse—no visible evidence. Not only that, but the Cummingses live on a remote island, and there doesn’t seem to be any motive for Melvin Cummings to travel all the way to Anchorage to shoot Noah outside the coffee shop.”

  “I agree,” Brycen said. “Why kill a trooper who didn’t arrest you?” He looked past her where passengers had deboarded the private plane and the crew worked to finish up. The crew working on Drury’s plane had finished and now the plane rolled toward the airport apron, where it would be parked until its next flight.

  “Do you think things are missing from the files?” she asked, much more interested in this than the status of her plane.

  He tucked his sunglasses into an inner pocket of his jacket, revealing a gun holster. “Nothing other than what I suggested, no notes on impressions. No observations on reactions or relationships. Just evidence gathering. Information gathering. Data.”

  Unless the observations were on the killer, Drury didn’t see how those would make a difference. But he was the hotshot detective, not she.

  When she’d first heard about Dark Alley Investigations, she had been skeptical, but after reading about a few of the cases the agency had solved, she changed her mind. Kadin led an aggressive agency, all geared toward justice for cold cases and a reputation for never quitting. But she was curious of one thing.

  “So, what makes you so different than other detectives?” She wasn’t afraid to ask direct questions.

  He laughed shortly, eyes crinkling at the corners and disarming her once again. “I’m not sure.”

  Another plane took off down a runway and she waited for the sound to die a bit. “Kadin said you had a zero unsolved case rate. How do you do it?”

  He didn’t seem uncomfortable, stood relaxed and answered straightforward. “Experience. A talent for looking at the crime from multiple angles. And the evidence. A person’s outlook and circumstances in life are important, too. Circumstances can drive people to do things they ordinarily wouldn’t. On the other hand, people who seem normal can be the most dangerous criminals of all.”

  He must have a keen eye for evidence and how it tied in with a person or a suspect, how all the information told a story. She hoped he could see one for Noah.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Decoteau.”

  She turned to see the driver of the touring company she worked for, standing in the doorway of the terminal building, holding the door open. He picked her up on the tarmac and drove her home after her days of flying, a perk the company offered its pilots. That saved her parking fees and the company from having to reimburse her. But she just now noticed the van was not on the tarmac and he’d come through the terminal building.

  “My van broke down,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to take a cab.”

  That would take a while this far outside Anchorage. “Oh.” She had to go pick up her son. She checked her watch. By the time she made it home to get her car and back out to the school, she’d be late. Even if she took a taxi to the school, she wouldn’t make it.

  “I can take you,” Brycen said. “We can further discuss the case on the way.”

  How nice of him to offer. “I have to go pick up my son.”

  Seeing him blanch slightly at the mention of her son, she wondered what had caused it.

  “Kadin didn’t mention you had a son.”

  She smiled to cover he
r wariness over his reaction. “He left out a lot about me.” The fact that she had a son shouldn’t be significant for what he’d come for. “Didn’t fill you in on the personal details, huh?”

  “No.” He walked to the passenger door of his Yukon, seeming angry that he had not been told. Had Kadin deliberately left the detail out? But why? He must know personal details that Drury didn’t, details that may have prevented Brycen from coming to Alaska to take the case. She found herself much more curious about him.

  She climbed into the passenger seat. As Brycen drove off the tarmac toward the airport exit, she caught sight of a man smoking a cigarette in the gravel parking area, near the entrance to the tarmac. Wearing a hoodie and sunglasses, he leaned against a light post, a few spaces from where Mountain Ridge Air Taxi’s shuttle van had parked—or broken down.

  “Someone you know?”

  Startled and impressed by his sharp observation, she turned to him. “No. Just nervous, I guess. I didn’t get a chance to tell Kadin that someone left a dead cat on my doorstep last night.”

  He drove a few beats as the news registered. “I’ll take that as a welcome back.”

  *

  Noah Decoteau Jr. walked out of school, saying something to one of his pals before parting ways. He used to interact with a lot more enthusiasm and the number of his friends had dwindled. The light had gone out after Noah’s death and Drury couldn’t find a way to turn it back on. His resemblance to Noah didn’t help. Arrows of happier times stabbed along with immeasurable love. His head full of dark hair, the way he walked, even some of his expressions were mini versions of the adult. Would she ever get past the heartache? Did anyone who lost someone they loved to murder? Many times she’d felt guilty for living when he died. Or that she hadn’t grieved enough. She hadn’t told anyone that. But it was one of the reasons she’d called DAI. She hoped to find closure.

  Glancing over at Brycen, she felt a lighter arrow pierce her, Cupid’s arrow. His rugged face and thick hair, big body taking up the seat without an ounce of fat. His eyes watched the kids and then turned to her. She’d only just met him and already felt a strong connection. Intimate curiosity. How could that be? From the moment she’d seen him leaning on the SUV, keenly observant, he’d struck something buried in her. He’d rekindled an interest in the opposite sex. What frightened her most, not just any man could have done that.

  She must be excited to catch Noah’s killer, that’s all.

  Opening the door, she got out as Junior searched for the Mountain Ridge shuttle van. Spotting her, he started to walk faster. Brycen got out on the other side and Junior saw him, staring a bit before looking back at his mother.

  When he reached her, she messed up the top of his hair. “Hey, kiddo.”

  He grumbled something and lowered his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He squinted up at her, sunlight streaming onto his face. “Gatchel Maxwell is stupid.”

  One of the kids gave him a hard time today? “What did he do?”

  “He said single moms don’t make any money and boys with single moms grow up to be crack-eds.”

  He meant crackheads. “Well, I think boys with names like Gatchel are more likely to grow up like that.”

  That sprang a smile onto Junior’s face, followed by a lighthearted laugh. A real kid laugh that reached his young brown eyes. Drury loved it. He’d withdrawn a lot since Noah died, but she could bring him out of it every once in a while.

  She faced the SUV to see Brycen had gotten out and headed toward them.

  “Who’s that?” Junior asked.

  He stepped onto the sidewalk and came to a stop beside Drury. “Brycen Cage.” He held out his hand.

  Junior eyed the hand and looked up—way up—at Brycen’s face.

  “This is the detective I told you about.” Why had he offered his hand as though Junior were a professional business contact? She stopped a laugh. “This is my son, Noah Jr. I call him Junior.”

  “Junior.” Brycen nodded once in acknowledgment, stuffing his hands into his front jean pockets. When Junior didn’t respond, he looked from the boy to the area surrounding the school, and she went to the back door of the SUV to let Junior in.

  “Where’s Mac?” Junior asked.

  He and the van driver had become fast friends. “Van broke down. We have a different ride today.” She gestured for him to get in the back.

  Junior didn’t move as he sized up the big stranger. He’d gotten shy around men she encountered. Mac had taken a while to warm up to him. Drury often wondered what went through his little mind. Did he compare them to his dad? In a blue button-up shirt that matched one she’d gotten Noah, Junior looked a lot like his father.

  “Why is he driving us?”

  “He met me after work. He’s kindly offered us a ride home.” What was it about Brycen that put off Junior? Yes, Junior was shy around men, but he seemed defensive. What was different? Had he picked up on the man’s awkwardness? Big, imposing stranger who stiffened around kids? Probably.

  And what made Brycen so anti-kid? Was it his lack of experience? Or did he dislike them? She couldn’t be sure which or if it was something else entirely, something personal that Kadin had left out.

  Junior lowered his head and kicked at the concrete sidewalk.

  “Junior?” She noticed he held something in his hand, a piece of folded paper. “What’s that you’ve got?” She went to him and held her hand out.

  He looked sullenly up at her and handed her the paper.

  She opened it and saw it was his report card. Seeing several unsatisfactory marks and long notes from his teachers, Drury quelled her sinking disappointment. “Junior, what happened here?”

  He kicked at the concrete again and shrugged as though he didn’t care. Drury knew he did care.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to keep up your grades?”

  His head lifted and defiance sprang from his eyes. “I try.”

  “Not hard enough. You used to be at the top of your class. Why are you still letting your grades fall so much?” Drury put her hand on Junior’s shoulder. “That’s not the Decoteau way. We give everything our all.”

  Junior jerked away. “Then I’ll just stay here! I don’t want to go anywhere with you anyway!” He started marching back up the sidewalk toward the school.

  “Noah Jr.!” Drury trotted to catch up to his small strides. She put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him, turning him to face her and bending to his level. He pouted at her.

  She took in his adorable face awhile. “You’re going with me and that’s final. Got it?”

  His pout plumped up his lower lip some more.

  Drury ran her forefinger down the tiny bulge. “Brycen is the detective who’s going to help Mommy. You don’t have to like him, but you do have to get into the SUV.” She straightened, taking his hand. “And you have to get your grades back up.” She walked with him back to the Yukon.

  Brycen leaned against the front bumper, ankles crossed and phone to his ear.

  As she and Junior returned, she heard him say, “Thanks.” Before putting his phone away and impassively surveying Junior and then her. “Everything okay?”

  He seemed like a completely different man than the one she’d met on the tarmac. Distant. All purpose.

  “Yes.”

  He looked down at Junior with the same detachment.

  Junior angled his head as he returned the look with defiance. “Are you going to find my daddy?”

  Drury wasn’t sure Junior fully understood his father had been murdered, or what it meant when a person died. He asked when his father was coming back every so often. Even though she said he wasn’t, Junior didn’t seem to compute.

  “I’m going to catch the man who hurt him.”

  Relieved that he had found a gentle way to answer, Drury saw how Junior wavered over what to think of this stranger.

  “You promise?” Junior asked.

  Brycen pushed off from the bumper and sa
id, “I promise.”

  The absolute certainty in Brycen’s tone made Drury stop from opening the back passenger door. In Junior’s young mind, his father would someday come home. She’d tried to explain Noah would never come home, but she hadn’t been able to say it in adult language, to expose her son to such brutality and darkness. She hadn’t had the heart. Protecting him might preserve his childhood, to allow him to be a kid until he grew up. But that didn’t seem to work. Junior missed his father and he understood enough to know something terrible had happened to him.

  It meant a lot to her to know Brycen had picked up on the boy’s trouble. He might not like kids, but he had a way with them. Interesting.

  His gaze moved from Junior to her, communicating without words and heating her up. She didn’t remember feeling this with Noah, these instant sparks so early on. Disturbed by that revelation, she opened the back door. Kadin had sent a top-notch detective. That was all he was to her. She had a mighty thirst to avenge Noah’s death. When his case went cold, she’d gotten angry, not at law enforcement’s failure, at the killer. He could not get away with what he’d done.

  Wasn’t that why she’d called Dark Alley?

  Certainly not to find love again.

  “Hop in, Junior.”

  Junior did, head low. Closing the door, she faced Brycen, who’d opened the front passenger door. “What hotel are you staying at? We can start working tomorrow morning if you’re ready. Maybe I could meet you for breakfast after I drop Junior off at school.”

  “I canceled my hotel.”

  “You...” She hurried to follow his thinking. That was who he must have called when she went after Junior.

  “If you don’t mind, I thought I’d sleep on your couch...in case someone does more than leave something on your front porch. Whoever left it didn’t like you digging into the case, and I’m guessing they’ll like me showing up even less.”

  She appreciated him leaving out the detail of the dead cat. She hadn’t told Junior and had disposed of the poor animal before he saw anything.

  “All right.” She got in and he went around to the other side.

  He drove off the tarmac and into the parking area, passing the van.