Cold Case Recruit

Chapter 1

Filming ended for the season of Speak of the Dead and Brycen found himself with too much time to think. Everything Kadin said kept going through his mind. That, and his dinner with Molly Lynden. Talking to her reminded him of what had brought him satisfaction as a homicide detective. Solving crimes, yes, but people like her made the biggest difference. After he’d grown up and learned his love of fiction didn’t compare to his work, he’d found other things to love about crime-solving.

Even with all Molly had lost, she still had forgiveness in her heart, and an ability to move forward. That was why he walked into Dark Alley Investigations today, unannounced, with a reporter taking a shot of him. News would get out that the host of Speak of the Dead had returned to work. And in a big way.

Inside, the receptionist’s desk was empty, but Kadin stood in the open doorway of his office. He stepped aside as Brycen approached. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Brycen disregarded the teasing statement and entered the office.

Kadin passed him and went to his desk, picking up a folder and going to a table in the adjacent corner. Brycen took the bait and joined him there, glancing at Kadin as he opened the file. Neat handwriting spelled Drury Decoteau on the folder tab.

Brycen sat down and opened the thick file. The first page was a summary of Kadin’s first conversation with the woman.

“She called a few weeks ago. A year ago her husband was gunned down as he came out of an Anchorage coffee shop. He was an Alaska State Trooper.”

Brycen stopped at Anchorage. He flipped the file shut and stood from the chair. “I can’t believe I fell for this.” He’d asked what case Kadin had in mind for him back in Chicago and he hadn’t answered. He’d known Brycen would refuse outright if he knew sooner.

Kadin planted his hand on Brycen’s chest and stopped him. “I had to get you here.”

“So you could fool me into taking a case in Alaska?” He had to know his history there.

“You’re the best detective in the country for this case.” Kadin dropped his hand. “I’ve had to calm Drury down on numerous occasions and ask for her patience while I recruited you.”

“You told her about me?”

“I told her you were the best detective in the country for her husband’s murder case.”

In other words, he hadn’t told her about his history outside of his detective work in Alaska.

“Read the file.”

Brycen didn’t move at first. But then that old curiosity overcame him, excitement over solving a new case. The need. He could not walk away from this.

Going back to the table, he sat again. The trooper, Noah Decoteau, left a coffee shop and walked to his vehicle. Before he reached the vehicle, a gunman shot him three times, once in the head, twice in the chest from an alley across the street. Ballistics came back with a 9-millimeter bullet, probably from a Ruger SR9c. Detectives spoke with patrons and neighboring shops. No one saw the shooter.

“Noah answered three calls for help the week of the shooting,” Kadin explained as Brycen turned pages.

“An attempted rape in Anchorage, a domestic violence call in a remote island village and a burglary,” Kadin said.

“Was there an arrest in any of the cases?” Brycen asked.

“The perp of the attempted rape was never found. Burglar was arrested, and no charges were filed in the DV call. The wife refused.”

As they often did, out of fear their husbands would retaliate. “What happened in the attempted rape?”

“Cocktail waitress left work after two and someone tried to get her into their pickup truck. She fought hard and got away. It was dark, so she wasn’t sure she could recognize the man. He also attacked her from behind. Some hunters came in and gave her a hard time a few nights prior. She got them kicked out and one of them wasn’t very happy. He was a person of interest for a while.”

Brycen read that the man had been questioned and his wife vouched for him the night of the attempted rape. That didn’t mean she hadn’t lied for him. Some women would do anything to maintain peace in their home, especially with a violent man.

Next, he found the report on the DV call. The call came in from the woman, who had hidden in the bedroom closet. She said her husband had been drinking and struck her when dinner was late. It took some time to reach the house, and by the time the trooper and his partner arrived, the woman had changed her story, saying she made a mistake. Her husband didn’t really hit her. With no visible signs of abuse, the troopers had left.

He went back to the description of the crime. The trooper had been gunned down in cold blood, without ever being aware someone had him in their aim. Something the trooper had either seen or done had earned him three bullets.

He searched the report for prior arrests. The abuser didn’t have any. The burglar had a rap sheet. The hunters were clean.

Four other criminals the trooper had put away were still in Alaska and now free. All had been checked out. All but one had a solid alibi. In an interview, the prostitute claimed she’d been home at the time of the murder. Maybe she’d lied, since her profession was illegal. There were no more details on her. The rest of the criminals the trooper had arrested and who were listed in the report either had left the state or were still in jail.

After reading the report all the way through, Brycen put the last page down and looked out the window. Whenever one of their own died in the line of duty, Brycen took it personally. He just got mad that the trooper hadn’t even had a chance. The gunman had taken the cowardly way and targeted him, hidden in the shadows and taken down an innocent, good man. He’d turned a wife into a widow. DAI’s newest client. She’d called them, desperate to find the man who’d destroyed her life.

When he finally turned back to the office, he saw Kadin standing at the side of his desk, leaning there with his feet crossed and his hands resting over the edge.

“I’ll do it, but I’ll make no promises that I’ll work for you permanently.” He could not let a cop killer go free. He wouldn’t be in Alaska long. Then he could return to Chicago and the city life he craved.

* * *

The smell of jet fuel and crisp northern air soaked into Drury Decoteau as she stepped down from her De Havilland Beaver. She’d finished another day of flying tourists and business professionals to wherever they needed to go in the great and vast Alaska. Today that involved a trip to Prudhoe Bay. Flights to places like that invigorated her. Weather could turn in a heartbeat. She’d been stranded in remote locations before. Not today. Late summer, the weather had cooperated, although fall seemed to be approaching faster this year than last.

She couldn’t wait to get home to her nine-year-old son, Junior. Sometimes they watched a movie or played a video game. Sometimes she read stories out loud. Sometimes they had a barbecue, even after winter sank its teeth into Anchorage. It was a Decoteau family tradition. Drury tried to keep up on all of those things. While not the same as with a whole family unit, the festivity did hold them together.

Crossing the tarmac on her way to the terminal building, Drury looked around. Not many ground crew members worked right now. She didn’t see anyone suspicious. Last night the doorbell rang and while she never answered the door after dark, when whoever had left, she’d discovered a dead cat on her doorstep. Someone didn’t like her taking Noah’s homicide investigation into her own hands. All very horror-movie style for shock value, but the message had been clear.

Had the killer done that? Who else would have? Proof that her husband’s killer was still so close unnerved her, but angered her more. Yeah, he should be scared. When her detective arrived, that scourge of society wouldn’t be free much longer. Getting past the worst of the grief led to anger. Someone had taken her husband from her, disrupted her life and her family’s life. It was so unfair. No one should get away with taking a good man’s life. And she’d make sure whoever had done so paid. She’d have her justice and then she’d move on, satisfied with closure. She wouldn’t have it as long as Noah’s killer ran free.

She spotted a man in jeans and black leather jacket leaning against the front fender of a deep blue Yukon. More than his towering height and solid build made him stand out from the ground crew that had begun to work on her plane. He didn’t move, just watched her approach, mysterious and acutely observant. Dark hair showed no sign of receding and sunglasses hid his eyes. She slowed her steps on her way to the private airport’s main terminal building entrance. He wouldn’t be on the tarmac without authorization. He had to be here on business.

He pushed off the fender.

That must be him.

Excitement and gladness surged forth. Kadin had told her he sent a detective. For the amount she paid, he’d better be worth it. Dark Alley Investigations had a flexible fee structure. Those who could pay did. Those who couldn’t didn’t. Kadin ran his business like a nonprofit organization, relying heavily on donations. Drury was no millionaire, but she had a sizable nest egg from her husband’s life insurance and an uncle who’d left her an inheritance. And, of course, her job as a bush pilot.

The closer she came to him, the more she saw of his rugged good looks. Her husband had looked like that. Not as tall, though. This man was a giant. Noah’s ruggedness had attracted her. He hadn’t been the wild, backwoodsman like so many other men in Alaska, especially the more remote areas. He’d had clean-cut hair and masculine angles. Why the comparison struck her threw her off a bit. The man before her now had that same appeal, ruggedly handsome, but she shied away from admitting to herself that he attracted her.

“Drury Decoteau?”

Noah didn’t have that deep a voice, either. The rich, gravelly sound tickled her senses. That and his general aura of power, a dark energy cultivated from his experience as a homicide detective and the reason Kadin Tandy had handpicked him for her dead husband’s case.

“Yes.”

He removed his sunglasses and revealed hard, light gray eyes that warmed when he smiled.

“Detective Cage?” She shook his hand, which ought to be rougher on a man like him. She also wondered if manly interest delayed his own introduction.

His smile changed, richer and more of a sexy grin. “Brycen. Do I stand out that much?”

She found it both refreshing and captivating that such a big man who dealt in gory murders for a living would be so approachable. Never mind the sexy part. “You do stand out, but I’ve been expecting you. Kadin told me you’d be coming. He also told me you were the best in the country for my husband’s case.”

The grin smoothed, more professional now. “I worked in Alaska for many years.”

“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 high-wing, 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 her 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.