Cold Case Recruit (14 page)

Her boots tapped the rough wood floor until she stepped onto the area rug on her way to the bookshelf. She found many prominent titles. Hemingway, Charles Dickens, Faulkner and even Machiavelli. More modern titles from popular mystery and suspense authors took up the bulk of the space, however.

“Whoever owns this cabin must not be friends with Melvin,” she said. “They’re intellectual aliens compared to his Neanderthal ways.”

He chuckled without pausing on the fire, which he stoked to a pretty good roar. Standing, he went to the front door as the warm fire drew her.

“I’m going to the shed to see if I can find something to board up that window,” he said.

“There’s a shed?” She held her cold hands toward the flames. The fireplace opened to the kitchen, as well.

“Yes. I saw it from the top of the hill.”

She hadn’t. She’d been too preoccupied with her cold body. She warmed herself by the fire until he returned with a board, hammer and nails. She saw him on the other side of the broken window, concentrating on his task.

“It’s a work shed,” he said through the broken window.

People had to be self-sufficient here, so Drury wasn’t surprised he’d found building material.

He put the board over the hole in the window and began nailing it in place. It covered the entire window and would be more than enough to keep the chill and the weather out until the owners returned. When he finished, he came back inside, pausing before closing the door to inspect the surroundings—what he could see in the building storm.

Seeing the snow billowing and drifting, she worried if they’d be able to get out of here tomorrow. Would they be sitting ducks for the next gunmen to come after them?

Closing the door, Brycen set the lock and stomped snow off his boots on the thick front entry rug.

Already the fire had chased away the chill.

“Those ATVs arrived fast,” she said. They must have been watching the Cummingses’ house, in particular the boathouse.

“Yes. They were prepared.”

“Expecting us?”

“Expecting someone to come looking, yes.”

She removed her jacket and draped it over one of two kitchen table chairs. A cabin made for two? The table had a clunky sort of shabby chic going, with fading paint revealing previous colors it had been painted. She doubted the style had been created intentionally. This had to be the real deal.

The kitchen itself didn’t offer much in the way of conveniences, only a gas stove and a small countertop and a few cabinets in the narrow space. This cabin must be a getaway from noise and electronics. She imagined a middle-aged couple with no kids as the owners.

Brycen came to stand beside her. “No one is going to come after us here. Tonight or after the storm clears.”

She looked up and over at him, amazed he’d noticed her nervousness, however subdued. “How can you be so sure?”

He only met her look awhile before going back to the fire to add more wood.

He’d killed one and nearly the other. Surely that one would not attempt to kill Brycen a second time. He’d fled, as he should.

She went back into the living room. There were no interior doors. The cabin consisted of this and the kitchen area. She went to the couch and felt for a handle down low and center. Sure enough, she found one. The couch extended into a bed, and it was the only one.

“There’s dry food in here,” Brycen said from the kitchen. “Crackers and sardines or tuna. Some chili, too. Ah. Noodles. Not much else. Cereal.”

Dry without milk. They’d be fine for the night.

“Bottled drinking water,” he said. “Some for cooking, too. Five-gallon jugs.”

“Fantastic.” With the light beginning to fade, she slid open a drawer in one of the side tables. Finding only some magazines, she went to the other and found a few lighters. Removing the glass cover from the first, she turned up the wick just a bit and lit the lamp. Replacing the cover, she lit the other kerosene lamp. The cabin had a soft glow now, together with the fire.

Hearing Brycen clanking things in the kitchen, she went to the bookshelf and chose one of the modern mysteries. Then she went to a trunk under the second window in front and opened it to find pillows and blankets.

She took out a light blanket and went to the couch, where she curled up in a warm cocoon and opened the book. With the crackle of the fire and Brycen whipping something up for dinner, she relaxed. Might as well make the best of this.

Alone with a man like Brycen...

That part gave her a pleasurable tickle.

Read
.

She tried to follow the story, but the romantic setting kept interfering, especially when he appeared with a steaming cup of tea, the string and tag hanging out.

“It’s hot,” he said.

She carefully took it from him, putting the book open and faceup on her lap, and set the cup on the side table.

Catching sight of Brycen at the gas stove, only seeing his rear through the fireplace, she forgot the book and contented herself with the smell of ink, the warmth of the fire, and the man cooking dinner—something that had begun to smell rather good. He’d lit the kerosene lamp on the table, as well. While he’d done it so he could see, he’d also put plastic forks and bowls there.

The fire began to lose its robust flame, so she left the book and blanket and fed it with more wood. Then the activity in the kitchen tempted more than the blanket and book. She brought her tea to the table and sat. He’d only used one pan to boil noodles and had washed and dried it in the removable bowls that served as a sink. Wind slapped snow against the kitchen window, a small square at the far end, all but one corner frosted.

Brycen opened the off-the-grid oven and removed a medium-sized tin pan full of a hot casserole. More delicious aroma wafted into the cabin.

“The homicide detective from Dark Alley can cook?” she asked.

Lips smiling, he spooned some of the mixture into her bowl and then his.

“Wow. The things you can do with canned food.” He’d made a tuna casserole with tuna, peas, mushrooms, noodles and an Alfredo sauce. And was that a cracker crust on top?

She took a spoonful and blew to cool it off and then took a bite. “Delicious.”

“Not bad.” He ate with her awhile.

“We’ll have to leave a thank-you note.” She laughed at her quip.

“Actually I’ll leave a business card. DAI reimburses for damage done to innocent people’s property.”

“Really? That could get very expensive.”

“We get donations from wealthy families and organizations for abused or missing children. Kadin works hard promoting the cause. Not for noteworthiness, to keep the business thriving.”

The agency was truly all about avenging the innocent. Impressive. She covertly admired him for more than his heroism while she ate. And then Junior popped into her thoughts.

She almost regretted enjoying this evening so much, when her son might be expecting at least a call from her. “Junior is going to think I left him.”

He put his spoon down, having finished his meal. Now he looked at her as her revelation dawned. “I’m sorry. We should have gotten on the chopper. I should have thought more of Junior, that he might feel abandoned.”

He’d noticed that about him? That he had abandonment issues?

“Finding Evette is important,” she said. “What if she learned something about Melvin and the same people are now after her? She could be in hiding.”

“Or she could be dead.”

More likely she’d been killed. Drury’s spirit and her hope in finding the woman alive dimmed. Whoever had been at the Cummingses’ house during the domestic violence call must be very dangerous indeed and have many resources to carry out his hidden agenda. A woman like Evette would be no match against someone like that.

With her tea cooled, she rose and found that Brycen had kept a kettle of water warm on the stove. She put a new tea bag in the cup and poured water. Then she bobbed the tea bag, still plagued with worry over Evette’s fate.

Brycen stood, taking their plates and dumping them into a trash bag he’d set out on the floor. Then he washed his hands, glancing at her. Drying his hands, he dropped the cloth and moved closer.

He brushed her hair back from where it fell over her shoulder. “Let’s not think about that tonight.”

His touch sent sparks shooting all the way to her toes.

“It’s either that or Junior,” she said, more to douse the passion stirring.

“As soon as the storm clears, the pilot will come get us. When he lands at the Cummingses’ place, he’ll be within radio range.”

He sure thought of everything. “That’s a relief.” She turned with her cup in both hands, leaning against the counter beside the stove.

He put his hand on the counter, facing her.

“For someone who doesn’t like kids, you sure seem conscientious of them,” she said.

“It’s not that I don’t like them. You’ve accused me of that before.”

He sounded genuinely put off.

“Well, you never explained why you distance yourself from them. Not lately, I don’t mean that. You’ve been really great with Junior, but I sense something in you, something that pushes you away, or puts a wall up.”

Looking at her face, his steely gaze going from her mouth to her eyes, she thought he’d brush her off the way he had done before.

But he did the unexpected and said, “The reason I quit the CPD is my last case was the murder of a child.”

She felt her mouth drop open. “Oh, Brycen...”

“This murder was brutal, the child about Junior’s age. I just couldn’t do it anymore.” His head lowered and turned aside with what must be a wave of sorrow. When he lifted his head and met her eyes again, she saw the depth of his anguish. “I’ve never told anyone this.”

She put her palm on his cheek, wondering how he could be so profoundly affected by the death of a child he never knew. The murder of a child was horrific, but surely that one hadn’t been his first.

“Did something like that happen in Alaska, too?” she asked.

He put his hand over hers, burdens of the past haunting him.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“The accident did play a role. Kayla and I were returning from getting married when it happened.”

He dropped another bomb with that statement.

“You married her?” She moved so he stood directly in front of her, resting her hands on his chest.

He put both hands on the counter on each side of her. “She understood how I felt. She agreed to separate if we grew apart.”

Did he feel guilty about that?

“She must have hoped you never would.” She needed to keep calm, to keep from responding to his nearness and the closeness that came from his revelations.

“We had a good relationship.”

Only because she’d gone along with his philosophy on marriage. Did he realize that?

“She must have loved you,” she said.

“I loved her.”

In his own way, but Drury suspected he hadn’t loved her as much as he could love a woman. If he had, he would see how wrong he was about marriage and what it could mean to a man and a woman. It made her reflect on her own marriage with Noah. She had loved him, but could she love another man more?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she asked.

He straightened from the counter, giving her more space. She took a deeper breath.

“Her family was already devastated. Hell, I was devastated. And given that her father didn’t want her to be with me, I didn’t see any point.”

Drury didn’t know what she’d have done. She could agree, what would be the point in telling Kayla’s family that she’d married Brycen that day? She died.

The tragedy tugged at Drury. No wonder he’d left Alaska. And no wonder he’d started his show. He’d left painful memories, and the murder of a child explained so much.

“The accident wasn’t your fault,” she said.

“My line of work led to it,” he admitted with brutal honesty.

Drury didn’t agree. “So you think you shouldn’t have gone into homicide?”

His look stayed locked with hers, but his harsh self-criticism softened and his eyes passed down over her mouth and back into her eyes. “No.”

He sounded as though he hadn’t thought of it that way before, that he hadn’t been wrong to choose to fight crime. Everything that led him to become a detective rang true. He stood on the right side of the law and shouldn’t allow choices criminals made to doubt his integrity.

“It doesn’t mean you should move back to Alaska, although you should face what happened.”

“That’s a little impossible when Kayla’s family is so against me. I did harbor some hope they’d moved on, but I can see that was useless.”

“They’re against you for the wrong reason. And personally I think they need to face what happened even more than you. Your leaving only enabled them to keep blaming you.”

He put on a wry grin, a sure sign he’d rather not talk about this anymore. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t left I wouldn’t have my show.”

She smiled back, unable to resist. “With all that charm, the show would have found you anyway.”

A low, deep and slow, sexy chuckle touched her most intimate senses. She felt the release of tension in him.

“You’re not just smart, Drury. You see things in their natural light. You make everything seem so simple. Maybe it has been...all this time.”

“Yeah...” She sank into his incredible eyes, and his mouth as he spoke. “Maybe.”

Moving closer, he slid his hand into her hair at the base of her neck, bringing his mouth a breath from hers. “Why was it so easy to tell you that? I feel like weight has been lifted off me.”

“Maybe it came naturally.” She didn’t think he’d come full circle in dealing with the way Kayla had died, but he’d just crossed a critical milestone on his path to letting go.

“Yes... Naturally.” He pressed his lips to hers.

“Oh,” she breathed against him, the sensation sweeping her away. She kissed him back.

Just when they both were about to lose control, he stepped back. “The fire.”

Looking there, she saw the flames had dwindled and only the embers glowed red. Of course, they had to stay warm.

She put her hand over her still-tingling lips as he went to stoke the fire.