Cold Case Recruit. Jennifer Morey

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СКАЧАТЬ he’d never feel he’d won. Justice was done, and that made it rewarding. When he first became a detective, he’d believed what he stood for. Now he wasn’t sure. Ever since he’d left Alaska, his purpose seemed to have blurred.

      “Not mine.” When he looked closer at her, she said, “I won’t agree to go on TV to tell my story.”

      “You wouldn’t personally have to appear on the show.”

      “I don’t want my story told. Period. It’s too real and it’s a private matter.”

      Brycen calmed his initial disappointment. Her story would make a good episode for his show. But he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—force her or coerce her. At least, not aggressively.

      “Most people who’ve gone through what you have benefit from telling their story. Sharing it helps them heal and it also helps others.” Not those who craved the entertainment, those who had gone through something similar.

      “Not me. I could never go on air and talk about Noah’s murder, and I couldn’t bear to hear it told.” She pushed her plate away and folded her arms on the table with a sigh.

      “If I solve his murder, that’s what I’d like to do. Take his story to my show. Featuring solved cold cases could make another criminal think twice before killing someone.” He held back the nagging thought that more than his show and avenging a State Trooper drove him back to Alaska. He’d left to forget some things, but he couldn’t deny they had influenced his decision to take this case, more than solving the murder crime of a trooper, more than a story for his show. He’d left something unfinished. Kadin had rubbed a raw nerve coercing him to take the case, but deep down, maybe he wished he could put his past to rest.

      Shattering glass interrupted.

      Brycen stood in an instant and drew his gun from its holster at his hip, hidden by his jacket. Drury sprang off the chair and rushed to her son, grabbing him and taking him to the protection of the living room wall.

      A rock with a piece of paper fastened with a rubber band rolled to a stop against the refrigerator.

      Drury told Junior to stay put and moved back into the kitchen, going to the rock.

      “Don’t touch it.” He held out his hand to stop her from reaching the rock. “Stay here!”

      Brycen ran to the back door and raced into the backyard. It was still light out but drizzling. He saw movement in the trees that bordered Drury’s house on a quiet street not far from the coastline. He ran after the moving figure, dodging thick vegetation.

      In a clearing, the man aimed a gun and fired. Brycen ducked behind a tree trunk and then peered out. The man vanished in the trees.

      Brycen chased after him, catching a glimpse of a hoodie. When the man veered to the right, he cut a path straight to him. The man glanced back, seeing him gaining. He unsteadily moved the gun over his shoulder while he ran at top speed. His aim was off.

      Crouching, Brycen heard the bullet hit a tree. He dove for the man’s feet, tackling him.

      The man rolled and Brycen knocked the gun off just before it fired. The man had painted his face black. More disguise than his hoodie. The man swung his foot, and the heel of his boot clipped Brycen on his forehead. He fell backward, rolling in time to miss the next bullet.

      Brycen drew his own gun.

      The man turned and ran.

      Brycen fired twice, missing both times through the thick stand of trees. Climbing to his feet, whipping blood from his forehead, he ran after the man. He was very familiar with Anchorage but not this particular neighborhood. There was a park nearby. Possibly the man had left his car there and hiked to Drury’s house.

      At the park, he saw no one. The weather had chased everyone away and the man hadn’t parked his car there.

      Getting wet from the steady rain, Brycen jogged toward the street. Nothing stirred except the squeal of tires in the opposite direction from Drury’s house. Brycen turned in time to see the Subaru that had tailed them earlier swerve around the corner. Brycen would never catch him.

      He jogged back to the house.

      Drury opened the front door for him.

      “He got away.”

      Junior stood behind her, staring wide-eyed up at him as he entered. Drury scanned the neighborhood before closing and locking the door. Passing Junior, he went into the kitchen where the rock still lay. “Do you have a plastic storage bag?”

      While she went to go get one, he used some cooking prongs to move the rock. The paper banded to it said “Stop before it’s too late.”

      He met Drury’s worried face as he put the rock in the bag she held open. “We need a safer place to stay.”

      “Where can we go?” Drury asked.

      Brycen looked over his shoulder. “I have a cabin. Close enough to town but remote and secure.” It was the only piece of Alaska he’d held on to. And the only reason he had was that he’d bought it just before things turned sour for him.

      “You’re hurt.” Drury touched his arm, seeing his face.

      The cut stung where the stalker had kicked him.

      She took his hand and led him to the bathroom, Junior following, no longer scared and now curious.

      Drury indicated Brycen should sit on the closed toilet seat. He did and she bent to retrieve a first aid kit from under the sink. Opening the lid, she dug out an alcohol wipe while Junior’s small hands took out a Band-Aid.

      Holding the Band-Aid out for his mother, Junior eyed Brycen, undecided as to whether he’d welcome him into his circle.

      Drury finished dabbing the small cut and threw that out before taking the Band-Aid.

      Junior stuffed his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and stared at Brycen, a much different stare than at the table. “Looks like you get Captain America.”

      “I can do Captain America.” He winked at Junior, whose eyebrows went down in distrust.

      “Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Brycen said. “I might seem like I do, but I don’t.” Did he sound like he was trying too hard? He felt like he was. He didn’t understand why Junior liking him was so important.

      “You don’t smile very much,” Junior said.

      Drury paused in her care of his cut to look at Junior through the mirror. “Junior...that wasn’t very nice.”

      With a sullen look up at her, he said, “He doesn’t.”

      Brycen smiled then. The kid had a way about him. Just now he felt he’d gotten a glimpse of the boy he’d once been, before tragedy crumbled his young world. A more talkative boy. A more curious boy. And something about Brycen had him very curious.

      As Drury smoothed the bandage over the cut, her soft touch made him aware of other soft parts in contact with him. Her leg against his. Her breast as she leaned to throw out the paper from the bandage, long, shiny hair СКАЧАТЬ