Cold Case Recruit (2 page)

“Look,” Brycen began, not feeling full conviction to stay his course and apprehensive over the temptation he faced, “I’m flattered you came all this way, but I’m not your man.”

“You’re not the only one I’m seeking out.” Kadin slipped out a binder, cradling it as he opened to the first page.

Brycen had kept all of his case files. He used them to create shows.

“I’m recruiting others based on their suitability to specific cases,” Kadin went on, turning pages and seeming to read.

Brycen wondered how much was a show, a way to appear nonchalant, so as not to alarm Brycen to the full extent of his determination to sway him. “What case do you have in mind for me?”

“What made you decide to become a detective?” Kadin asked instead of answering.

He would ask
that
question. Homing in his sharp weapon and taking aim at Brycen’s soul. Brycen walked to the bookshelf and lifted the latest murder mystery he was reading. “I loved reading when I was a kid.” He held up the book. “That doesn’t mean I was
born
to be a detective.” He dropped the book with a slap onto the desk. “Fiction is not the same as reality.”

“We all learn that when we go to our first crime scene.” Kadin put the binder away and turned to face him fully, his eyes too certain for Brycen’s comfort. “But you
were
born for this, Brycen. You must know. You must feel it right here.” He pressed his fist to the center of his chest. “I felt it. I still do. Even though I lost my daughter to a killer, I do it because I was born to. And in a way, I honor her by helping others. How can you feel good about yourself if you aren’t helping those families who desperately need you? The Molly Lyndens of the world.”

“Oh, now you’re going to try and guilt me.” Brycen nodded, thinking it might work.

“Why did you leave southern Colorado?” Kadin asked abruptly, and then for emphasis, “For Alaska?”

He had a feeling the man already had an explanation. No point in answering, he just let him go on.

“You were inspired by the books you read. And you
knew
you could make a difference in a city where the crime rate is high. In a state that has many dangerous places to live. You had the ambition in your heart.”

All true, for the most part. But that didn’t lessen the toll it had taken on him.

“Do you know how many families whose loved ones are still missing? Whose killers still walk free?”

He knew it when he worked homicide and he still did now. And it bothered him.

“This show is a waste of your talent,” Kadin said. “Think of the families. Molly Lynden.”

“I thought of nothing else when I worked in Anchorage and then the CPD.” That and solving the crimes, the mystery, the challenge to outsmart killers. The reward of feeling like a hero. As a young man, he’d felt satisfied most by that.

“Yes, but...why did you leave Alaska?”

The deliberate question put Brycen on edge. “People do horrific things when they have mountains and water separating them from law enforcement.” He had told everyone that was why he’d left. Although some might speculate, no one knew the real reason. Except this man, it would appear.

“And you thought Chicago would be better?”

Few could rattle Brycen, but Kadin did.

He didn’t respond, moving away from the man who pushed all the right buttons. He’d done some thorough research. Brycen stopped at the racks of clothes, wishing he could put one of the outfits on and go back onstage. But that would be running, wouldn’t it? Was that what he’d been doing? Running? And not from Chicago or Alaska per se. From something in particular.

“You know all about feeling responsible for that, don’t you?” Kadin pushed some more, following him across the room. “About feeling responsible for the life of someone loved by their family?”

Brycen turned to face him. Had he meant something by that? He looked hard into the seasoned detective’s eyes and found only intelligence. Cutting intelligence.

“Tell me...” Kadin subtly, but with powder-keg precision, said. “What’s the real reason you left Alaska?”

A shock wave singed him. A man like Kadin could dig up what Brycen had buried. All he had to do was look.

“You’re good,” Brycen said. “I’ll give you that.”

“If you join my team, I’ll give you exclusive rights to the cases you’re authorized to use. As long as the families agree to you doing a story about their murdered loved ones, you can use them for your show.”

Kadin was right. Brycen didn’t have an exhaustive list of shows. He could solicit other cases, but that wasn’t the premise of his show. Its popularity stemmed from the fact that all the cases were his. He had solved them all. The Alaska programs received the highest reviews. Some of the cases were in remote areas—and there were plenty in Alaska—in villages that didn’t have law enforcement. That made for entertainment. He’d moved there from Colorado because of that, because Alaska offered a challenge, as Kadin had pointed out. Alaska had also offered other things, things he’d like to forget, things he almost had forgotten until this man had come to see him.

“You can work for me when you aren’t working here,” Kadin said. “You won’t even have to move. Just travel to the sights of the cold cases when you need to until they’re solved. A man with your experience won’t take that long.”

“I’m done with that line of work,” Brycen said, much more feebly than before.

“Are you?” Kadin pinpointed Brycen’s weakness, his thirst to solve crimes. After holding his gaze a beat longer, Kadin added, “Give it some thought. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” And with that, he left the dressing room.

Brycen went to the dressing table and leaned over, bowing his head. Now what?

Plaguing regret spread its poison. Again. Every time he managed to erase the life he’d left in Alaska, something or someone rekindled the nightmare. “Damn you, Kadin Tandy.”

Chapter 1

F
ilming 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 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.”