The Cold Case Detectives series continues as love and danger light up the Alaskan sky…

Eager to make a fresh start in life, former homicide detective Brycen Cage had thought he’d left Alaska behind for good, hosting a TV crime show. But when he’s recruited back home to investigate a state trooper’s long-unsolved murder, Brycen never expects to be so drawn to the victim’s beautiful widow. An adventurous bush pilot raising her young son alone, Drury Decoteau manages to get past Brycen’s defenses—a no-go for the lone wolf. Yet as he works closely with Drury and falls even harder for her, Brycen must also avoid a killer—who will do anything to keep dirty secrets hidden—and protect the love he’s come to cherish.

“Why did you agree to come here and help me?” Drury asked.

She propped her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. “Was it a sense of duty? You’re from Alaska, but I still don’t understand why you took this case.”

Why did his reason matter? “Duty. Anger. If I could stop all cop killers, I would. But I have to settle for one case at a time.”

What had led him into show business differed from what had driven him from Alaska. That old, haunting darkness threatened to surface. Brycen wouldn’t let it. He’d put that part of his life behind him long ago.

“I don’t want my story told on your show,” she said. “Period. It’s too real and it’s a private matter.”

As her beautiful, striking blue eyes shifted to him in fiery disagreement, 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.

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

* * *

Be sure to check out the next books in this miniseries. Cold Case Detectives: Powerful investigations, unexpected passion…

* * *

If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense

Dear Reader,

s

My Cold Case Detectives series is in full swing. Dark Alley Investigations is growing. For the first time, Kadin Tandy has to recruit detectives. One of those recruits is Brycen Cage, a sexy, hard-core homicide cop and television celebrity who never fails a case, no matter how cold.

Cold Case Recruit is an Alaskan adventure. I find the remote islands and villages romantic and wild, and love writing about places not often traveled. The setting complements my secretive hero and native heroine.

Drury Decoteau isn’t afraid of much. She comes from a line of doers and has what it takes to break through Brycen’s boundaries. These two take DAI to the next level.

Look for the next book in the series—you’re in for a surprise! Kadin’s team of detectives is getting really interesting…

Jennie

Cold Case Recruit

Jennifer Morey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Two-time RITA® Award nominee and Golden Quill Award winner JENNIFER MOREY writes single-title contemporary romance and page-turning romantic suspense. She has a geology degree and has managed export programs in compliance with the International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR) for the aerospace industry. She lives at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Denver, Colorado, and loves to hear from readers through her website, jennifermorey.com, or Facebook.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

With another episode of Chicago crime recorded for the archives, Brycen Cage walked off the set of Speak of the Dead and headed backstage. Fans loved the chilling, grisly, terrible stories. He’d discovered a talent for reproducing them in a much lighter tone than their reality, the darkest side of humanity twisted into entertainment. Ten years ago, if anyone had told him he’d end up somewhat of a celebrity showcasing murder, he’d have laughed.

He greeted a stagehand on his way down a dimly lit hallway toward his dressing room. Outside the double doors, two security guards waited. A few other crew members busied themselves closing out the program and prepping the stage for tomorrow’s schedule. Brycen liked the social aspect of the show. It beat interacting with the dead.

His agent let five or six people into his dressing room after every live taping. Good PR, he’d said. Entering the clean, white-walled, well-lit room, he saw the fans waiting for him just inside, five women and one man. The man seemed out of place in a casual business jacket with a cowboy hat shading his gray eyes and black hair sticking out from the rim. Men rarely came here for an autograph.

He focused on the women, one tall and slender, one short and chesty, one average but great-looking blonde, another taller blonde and a fifty-something librarian stereotype.

“Hello, ladies.” He inserted himself in the middle of the women and took the first pen offered him. His agent made sure they all brought their own pens. The women giggled breathlessly—all but the fifty-something. She watched with an entertained smile, or maybe a fond smile best described that look. The man stepped back and waited. He didn’t have a pen and paper ready. If he wasn’t here for an autograph, what did he want?

“I love your shows,” the great-looking blonde said.

Who could love murder stories about real people? A living, breathing human being had suffered horrifically at the hands of a perverted monster and people loved hearing about it?

“Thanks.” He gave her his standard charmer of a grin. Had she demonstrated more intelligence, he would not be opposed to spending some personal time with her.

“Are you still a detective?” the chesty woman asked, waiting to hand him her paper and pen.

She came off as shy and a little innocent. Sweet. With a nonstandard, genuine smile for her, he signed the blonde’s autograph. “I don’t work for the Chicago police anymore, no.” He came to this studio and recorded shows on cases he’d solved over the years. Talking about them was much easier than having them front and center in his face.

He handed the great-looking but not-so-bright blonde his autograph, and one of the security guards ushered her out the door.

“I love your shows on Alaska,” the chesty woman said, handing him her pen and paper.

She ruined his opinion of her by bringing up Alaska. “Thanks.”

“Do a lot of criminals go to Alaska to hide?” she asked.

“Some.” He handed her the autographed plain piece of paper. “Thanks for coming to my show.”

She looked disappointed at the brevity of their chat. This wasn’t supposed to take long. The other security guard ushered her out the door as the first one returned.

“I’m Carol,” the tall and slender woman said, thrusting a pen and pad of flowery stationery paper toward him. People handed him all sorts of media to sign. The oddest one so far was a giant wall clock. The visual still made him want to chuckle. What made that woman decide on the clock, and why have his name so prominently displayed? Did time have some meaning? The short time humans had to live? Or had she been fascinated by murder and got a thrill every time she saw his name? Maybe both. Who knew?

“Will you write great to meet you, let’s get together sometime?” Carol flashed her pretty brown eyes with a big smile, all in fun.

He admired her courage. “I’d be glad to.” He began to write.

“Do you mean it?” she asked excitedly.

Finished writing, he handed her the pen and stationery back. “Of course. Now you can show all your friends.” He always got uncomfortable when the groupies came to see him. He wasn’t a rock star, after all.

Her smile deflated a bit when she noticed his neutrality, or lack of interest, as she might interpret.

“Right this way,” the security guard said, guiding her away.

She looked back over her shoulder as though lamenting the failure of this one attempt to hook up with someone famous. Well, not famous. His show was popular, that was all. And he did like his privacy.

“Is it true that you don’t believe in marriage?” the tall blonde asked, handing him her piece of paper.

A magazine had done an interview with him once, a few months ago. Promotion, his agent had said. He hadn’t enjoyed it at all. Talking about his personal life always set him on edge. “I’m a skeptic.”

“Haven’t you ever been in love?” She smiled flirtatiously.

“Once, but it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” He handed her the pen and paper and nodded to the other security guard.

Her flirty smile vanished at his easy dismissal. She didn’t look back as she was taken through the door.

The fifty-something handed him a photograph of himself. She’d patiently waited, like the man hanging back in the shadows. Brycen glanced over at him watching the exchange as he likely had done with all the others, nothing revealing on his face or in his eyes. Who the hell was this guy?

“It’s so refreshing to know there are people like you left in this world,” the fifty-something said.

Her sincerity brought his attention right back to her.

“My daughter was murdered eleven years ago and her case was just solved a few months ago, thanks to one of your shows,” she said. “She was murdered by that serial rapist you put away in Chicago a few years ago. The detectives didn’t put it together until your show aired. A DNA test linked the killer to my daughter’s rape and murder. I flew down here to meet you and to thank you in person.”

He had not expected gratitude from a woman whose daughter had been murdered. Touched, he took the pen she offered and the photograph. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms....”

“Lynden. Molly Lynden.”

He wrote, For Molly Lynden and her daughter. I wish I would have caught him sooner.

Handing her the photograph and pen, he asked, “How long are you in town?”

His question seemed to startle her, but she said, “I’m staying with a friend until the end of the week.”

Turning to the waiting security guard, “Tell my agent to arrange a dinner for me and Ms. Lynden.” And then to her, he said, “I’d like to know more about your daughter. That is...if you don’t mind.” Some people didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk about the ones they’d lost.

“Oh, why, that isn’t necessary, but such a nice gesture, Mr. Cage.” She took the business card he handed her. “I’d love to have dinner with you. And get to know you. You can’t know what solving my daughter’s case has done for me and my family.”

“It’s not a gesture, and I do know, Ms. Lynden. Many times over, I’ve seen what losing loved ones to heartless killers does to people. You have my highest respect and regard. It will be my pleasure to have dinner with you.”

“Thank you. I... I don’t know what to say.”

“Say goodbye for now.” He leaned in. “Security won’t let you stay long.”

“Of course.”

He gave her a casual hug.

When she moved away, she said, “Thank you so much.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

“Okay.” Her eyes glistened with emotion as she looked back with a wave.

Watching her leave the room, he could put himself in her shoes. He could experience what she experienced. Feel what she felt. The anxiety. The despair. Several years of solving homicides had given him that dark insight, his experience in Alaska especially. A man could stand up to that only for so long before he began to break. He’d reached that point. He could no longer endure the gore, the brutality and, most of all, the senseless injustice. Call him a bleeding heart, but meeting people like Molly always brought him to his knees.

Several seconds passed before he realized the man was still waiting for his turn.

“I never got used to it, either,” the man said.

Brycen had forgotten he was there, so caught up in Molly and her murdered daughter.

The man moved to stand beside him as Molly left the dressing room.

“You’re a detective?” Brycen asked.

“Kadin Tandy.” The tall, piercing-eyed man handed him a business card. “I’m not here for an autograph.”

“I didn’t think so.” Brycen took the card and read. Dark Alley Investigations. He grunted. “Are you my competition?” As Kadin’s hand moved back to his side, Brycen caught sight of a double holster and two pistols. “Or not...”

Something about the name and the man was familiar. What was he doing here and how had he gotten by the network’s security?

“Not everyone knows who I am,” Kadin said, not at all put out that Brycen didn’t recognize him. “I run a private detective agency out of Rock Springs, Wyoming. I’ve got five good detectives working for me and all of them are on assignment except one, but he’s expecting a baby with his new wife, so I’m scouting for more.”

And he’d traveled all the way to Chicago to talk to...him? He must have researched many detectives. To single him out struck Brycen as both odd and a compliment. The sense of familiarity grew. He’d heard of this man before.

“DAI’s workload has more than doubled since word got out about us,” Kadin said.

Still stunned that the man had found him, Brycen didn’t respond.

“We solve cold cases,” Kadin said. “Sometimes families of the victims come to us. Sometimes we go to them.”

Brycen began to recall a story about a New York detective who’d gone private. “Wait a minute...you’re not...”

“Several years ago, my daughter was kidnapped and murdered in New York. There was a lot of publicity on it. I moved back to Wyoming and opened DAI to fight back against criminals who’ve gotten away with murder.”

Kadin Tandy was the man who’d opened a private investigations agency in Wyoming. Brycen couldn’t believe it. “Yes. I remember you now. You don’t stop until you catch them.”

“No. Never. And neither do you.”

Now Brycen understood why he’d come here, and he didn’t like it. “Did.” He started for the door.

Kadin followed, catching up to walk beside him.

Brycen waved off the security guard when he stepped forward to intercept Kadin.

“At least listen to my offer.”

“I got out of that line of work.”

“I’m aware of that. I know all about you.”

That stopped Brycen. He let go of the door handle and faced him. How much did he know? “You researched me? Why?”

Kadin extended his hand toward the doors. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

Why did he want to talk alone?

“Here’s fine.” If this went the way he suspected, he’d tell the guard to escort Kadin out of here. But what if he knew about Alaska...?

Well, he couldn’t possibly know all of it. Brycen hadn’t told a soul about the worst of it.

Kadin glanced back at the guard. “We need some privacy.”

Brycen debated whether to ask the guard to escort Kadin out or not. Not facing this would be like running, avoiding whatever Kadin would bring to light. And he’d rather not have the guard—or anyone—hear this conversation.

“You can go now,” Brycen said to the guard, who promptly obeyed.

Kadin closed the dressing room door after the guard left. Putting his hands on his hips, exposing the guns and appearing to choose his words carefully. “I need you to join my team.”

Or maybe not choose them carefully. He’d come right out and said what he’d come to say. Brycen wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not. Why did this man want him to join his team of detectives?

“I told you. I got out of that line of work,” he finally said.

“No, you haven’t.” Kadin made a show of glancing around the spacious dressing room, over the desk and lit mirror, the tall chair for the makeup and hair prep, and racks of clothes lining one wall. The polished concrete floor gleamed and pictures of cities had been handpicked for a specific reason. The single window, tinted with one-way transparency, offered a sparkling view of downtown Chicago. He loved the city. It didn’t remind him of mountains. Looking at mountains depressed him.

“I’m here to recruit you,” Kadin said.

“Why me?” The man might be confident, but this took it to the extreme.

Kadin wandered back into the dressing room, going to bookshelf filled with binders. “I believe you’d make a valuable addition to my team. I need you.”

What he offered did seem exciting, and for the good. What better way to utilize his talent?

But to go back to that...

“Well, I don’t need you, Mr. Tandy. As you can see, I have a job. A good job. I make lots of money, I drive a nice car and I live in a nice house. Why would I leave all that and go back to dealing with crime scenes and victims’ families?”

Kadin twisted to look at him. “You just made dinner plans with one of those family members.”

He did, and that would always be his weakness.

When Brycen had no comeback, a half smile curved up on Kadin’s calculating face, more of a cat-got-the-mouse grin. He’d just confirmed whatever had made him come here with this insane offer.

Facing the binders again, he said, “Nothing satisfies you more than catching sadistic killers who hurt the innocent without remorse and ruin the lives of those who loved them.”

Nothing like driving his point home.

Brycen shook his head. “You don’t understand. I—”

Kadin cut him off. “The ugliness wore you down. I get that. But the detective in you will never die. You wouldn’t have started this show otherwise. Detectives—good detectives—don’t give up. Some may have a breakdown and need to step away for a while, but they always come back to what they were born to do.”

Every word rang true in Brycen’s heart. Sometimes he did miss the chase, the puzzle-solving and the satisfaction of sending violent criminals to prison. But he did not miss the horror...or the darkness that had begun to swallow him.

“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

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.

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 said, “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.

Drury waved to Mac, who stood talking to the tow truck driver.

As they left the parking area, Drury noticed Brycen looking in the rearview mirrors. Only his eyes moved. She leaned forward just a little to look at the mirror on her side. Two cars trailed them.

“The Subaru Outback,” Brycen said. “It was at the airport.”

There weren’t a ton of cars parked, but enough to make it impossible to remember all of them. “How do you know?”

“It’s got a dreamcatcher hanging from the mirror. I saw it parked in clear view of the shuttle van.”

He had a vigilant eye. Someone didn’t want her investigating her husband’s death. But why risk exposure by tailing her so blatantly? She looked back at Junior, who stared out the window, oblivious in his young innocence. The stalker hadn’t attacked yet, but maybe things would change now that she had her own detective working her husband’s case.

Without driving recklessly to lose the man, Brycen pulled over and parked along the street. The Subaru passed, the driver not looking their way. The hoodie and sunglasses disguised him enough to avoid recognition.

Brycen drove back into traffic, making the stalker the stalked. He trailed behind the Subaru, making no attempt to conceal the fact that he did so.

“What if he’s armed?” They had Junior in the SUV.

“If he was going to shoot at us, he’d have done it by now. I’ll just send him a message.”

Brycen turned a corner when the Subaru did. And another.

When the Subaru reached the two-lane highway that followed the coastline to the south, the driver sped up, and not just to reach the speed limit. He hot-rodded the Subaru, springing into top speed in a matter of seconds.

The driver did not want to be caught. And instead of attacking, he ran. Had he been sent for surveillance only, or did Brycen and Dark Alley Investigations’ reputation scare him off? Either way, the driver would not slow and, more importantly, would not lead them to whomever sent him.

Drury watched as Brycen slowed, confirming her assessment. Patience was one of the ingredients to his success. Let the man run. He couldn’t hide forever. If she was that driver, she would be worried right now.

Delight tickled her insides. She had a great detective sitting across the vehicle from her. Maybe a great something else, too...

As soon as that thought floated giddily into her head, she struggled to squash it. Falling for her detective was not part of the plan.

Chapter 2

Brycen let the blinds close after peering through the crack he’d opened. Nothing stirred in the street. Still, Drury had a stalker before he’d even begun his investigation.

“Junior, what’s it going to be tonight?” Drury called from the kitchen.

“I dunno,” Junior answered absently, hands busy with a video game.

“You want to go play catch for a while before dinner?” She seemed to slip that one in.

Didn’t Junior like to play ball, or play outside? Brycen found that curious.

“No.”

“You’re not doing homework.” She’d slipped that in, too.

“Don’t have any.”

Drury frowned as though not believing him but didn’t press as she flipped a grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. “Then come in here and sit at the table. Dinner’s ready.”

Junior grumbled but got up and came into the kitchen. She deposited a plate of grilled cheese in front of him. A glass of chocolate milk came next.

Brycen hadn’t had a grilled cheese sandwich since he was about Junior’s age and wasn’t sure he wanted to break the drought. He was a cute kid, but Brycen would rather not have any kids around while he investigated a murder. And not because they disrupted the peace and quiet.

Going into the kitchen, he sat before the plate she’d set out for him, a glass of chocolate milk tapping down afterward. He saw her silky black hair float down from one shoulder, dark lashes covering what he knew to be striking blue eyes. She sat down with another glass of chocolate milk, oblivious of the fact that not everyone would consider this meal ordinary.

Junior drank his milk and set the glass down, looking at Brycen, or more like dissecting him. When Brycen didn’t look away, Junior twirled a superhero figure over his plate and then flew him toward Brycen, going back and forth in front of his face, leaning over the table to get as close as he could, which only reached halfway across the table.

Putting the superhero down and wearing a smug scowl only a kid could pull off and still be cute, he took a few big gulps of the chocolate milk. When he put the glass down, a chocolaty rim covered his upper lip. Then he dug into the basket of crispy french fries, all the while making sure Brycen still watched. Showing up the adult.

“So, Brycen. Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?” Drury asked with a peculiar glance at Junior. “Since you’re going to be staying on our couch, we should get to know you.”

He supposed he forfeited his right to keep things professional when he invited himself to stay in her house. “What would you like to know?”

“Why’d you leave Alaska?”

She would have to start with that question. “I applied for a job in Chicago.” And that was about all he’d say. Kadin had earned more of his respect having not said anything about what he’d uncovered.

She stopped chewing a fry. “You just applied for it?”

“I got a call from an old friend. The climate is pretty close to Anchorage. Days are longer here in summer.” He watched Junior fly the superhero over his plate and out across the table toward Brycen, probably imagining clipping his nose.

“The climate is what made you move?” Drury asked, clearly accustomed to her son’s play tactics.

Junior shoved french fries into his mouth, eyes on Brycen, seeing if he’d get a rise out of him.

“No, the job made me move,” Brycen said to Drury.

“Do you like Chicago?”

“I like the big city. It’s a nice change.”

“No family? Wife? Kids?”

“No.”

“Pets?” She smiled.

“I’m gone too much. Crimes don’t happen on a regular work schedule.”

Junior stuffed a giant portion of his grilled cheese sandwich into his mouth and chewed with his mouth open. When he finally regained control of the mass, grease oozed out from the corners of his mouth.

“Noah Jr., use your napkin.” Drury picked up the crumpled cloth napkin and handed it to him. “You’re getting grease on that superhero.”

Putting down the figure, Junior laughed as he wiped his mouth and looked at Brycen. Besting him. Gaining attention through what he perceived as funny but shocking behavior. He didn’t know nothing shocked Brycen anymore.

“It laughs,” Drury said, smiling.

Junior made a face and then resumed stuffing more fries into his mouth.

“If you had a job in Chicago, why did you start your crime show?”

She sure asked a lot of pointed questions. “The opportunity arose.”

Lifting her sandwich, she paused with his short, uninformative answer. “Were you born in Alaska?”

She must have gotten the hint that he didn’t welcome talk about his reasons for leaving Alaska or what had sent him into show business. “No. Colorado. Moved to Anchorage after college when I started working law enforcement.” There. That ought to be enough to tide her over.

Taking a bite of her sandwich, she studied his face while whatever thoughts she had about him danced in her mind.

“Have you ever thought about getting out of Alaska?” he asked.

The blink and lowering of her eyes revealed that she’d considered it and maybe the issue caused her some trouble.

“No. My family is here. Junior’s grandparents...” She got a faraway look, turning her head and abandoning her sandwich. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t alone. I mean, I’m not alone, just...I miss the companionship.”

A murderer had torn her family apart and still held her hostage. She didn’t have the heart to move Noah Jr. away from his paternal grandparents. He was their only living link to their son.

“Would you move if you could?”

She took some time to think on that. “No, I don’t think so. It’s like I said. Sometimes I feel so alone.”

He could relate to that. He just would not engage in a discussion over why. “Do you have a big family?” They didn’t need to talk about death.

“Not so big. My parents live here and I have a sister. She moved away. California. She’s a lawyer.”

“A lawyer and a bush pilot.” Interesting combination. He chuckled. “I bet you have proud parents.”

“They could have done worse. What about you?”

“My parents still live in southern Colorado. They’re divorced.” After almost thirty years, they finally decided they weren’t good for each other. “I’m an only child.” Probably the only time they’d had sex was when he was conceived.

Junior began making grunting, singing sounds as he ate, swinging his feet and bobbing his head while he flew his superhero. “Uh, uh, uh-uh-uh-uh...”

“What’s it like not having any brothers or sisters?” Drury asked with a glance at her son and slight elevation of her eyebrows.

“What’s it like having them?” he countered.

She laughed. “Active. My dad flew. Not professionally, though. He runs a local hardware store, one of the oldest in the city. My mother inherited it when her parents died. My dad worked there, so he ran it from then on. Some of the old-timers still call it a sporting goods store. He sells a lot of that still, to this day.” She kept smiling with the good memories that must bring. “He took us many places. Haven’t been to Europe, though. That’s one place I’d like to visit someday.”

Brycen had never thought about where he’d like to travel before his end came. Travel wasn’t important to him. He liked to read or watch documentaries about the world. He used to love the mountains, but that all changed when he left Alaska. If he had to pick somewhere he’d like to go, he’d choose a beach, he supposed. He’d taken a woman to the Caribbean once. That had been okay. Women loved beaches.

“They like to stay active. They’re older now, but they still hike and camp and go on trips to fun places.”

“How did they meet? You said your mother was from New York.”

“She went on a cruise. She always wanted to see Alaska, so when she was in college, her parents helped her scrounge up enough money. The ship docked in Anchorage and she went in my dad’s store. They stayed in touch after that. When my mother graduated, she moved here and the rest, as they say, is history.”

He smiled, wondering if her parents’ relationship was as storybook as she made it seem.

“We all joke that New York must have made her the active spitfire she is, or was. She was a white tornado when I was a kid. I think that’s what my dad loved about her. He worked hard, but on his time off he liked to pick up and go, usually somewhere remote.”

“Is that what drew you into piloting?” Her dad had been a pilot. That must have influenced her.

Junior had stopped his grunt-singing and chewed on a fry, eyeing his superhero. Apparently he’d given up trying to shock Brycen.

“I wanted an education, and at the time, I didn’t consider bush piloting very professional. Air force had a nicer ring to it, and serving the country had a certain... I don’t know...” She lifted her face in thought. “Noble appeal.”

“What do you like most about flying?” He never understood why anyone would want to fly a big metal tube through the air.

“The freedom,” she said, looking upward dreamily. “Soaring through the sky. Everything looks so different from up there. You can see so much more of the land than your own little patch of it in everyday life.”

“Freedom?” Did she mean nothing but air could stop her? No train tracks, no other cars...?

“Yeah. The freedom to go wherever I want, to not follow any roads. To see more of the world. It’s hard to explain. Maybe what I really love is the thrill.” She laughed a little.

“Like the air force would have been?”

“Yeah. I dreamed of flying a fighter jet when I was in high school.” She lifted her eyes in mock wonder.

Maybe he could see her as a fighter pilot. More likely she’d thought doing so would be cool as a teenager.

“And then reality stepped in?” he asked.

She breathed a short laugh. “It’s a far cry from solving crimes.” She sipped her chocolate milk. “Is that what made you decide to start a crime show? The reality? It had to be more than a good opportunity.”

She had a quick mind. Sneaky. “Yes.” But then, it wouldn’t take much to figure that out. Detectives were human. Murder wasn’t cheerful.

Junior had finished eating and had taken to staring at Brycen. He had his head on his palm, elbow on the table, idly twirling his superhero. Brycen didn’t look away and Junior showed no sign of backing down. He decided to have a little fun with the kid.

“Do I have something in my teeth?” Brycen asked, baring his pearly whites. “A piece of spinach?”

“No,” Junior said. “We didn’t have spinach.”

“Something in my hair?” He fingered his hair. “Horns?”

Junior laughed. “No.”

“Oh, good. You had me worried there for a second.”

“You’re weird.” Junior got off his chair and asked his mother, “Can I go play my game now?”

“What about your homework?”

His head dropped to one side in annoyed frustration. “I don’t have any.”

“Noah Jr...?”

“I don’t,” he whined. “I did it at school. I don’t have any, Mom.”

“All right. Go ahead, then.” She watched him go to the floor in front of the TV. Crossing his legs, he picked up the controller and began playing.

Then she turned to him. “You were pretty good with him just now.”

“Asking if I had horns in my hair? What else can you do when kids stare?”

“I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Why hadn’t she? He didn’t want to know. That might lead down a path he’d rather not take.

“His grades are slipping?” Brycen said, not really a question.

Drury sighed, her full, sexy lips pinched a little, forming a dimple on her right side. Then those blue eyes pierced him with a confessing look. “They have been for a while now. I might have to hold him back a year.”

He didn’t have to state the obvious. The poor kid missed his father and didn’t understand why he was gone.

“He used to get top grades. He used to play catch with his daddy almost every day. Sounds so corny, but it’s true. He did homework and played Little League. Now...he isn’t interested anymore.”

Losing a dad would do that to a kid. Not unusual as far as Brycen was concerned. But he wondered if Drury felt left out because her son didn’t want to play catch with her the way he had with his father.

“I wish there was something I could do to help him deal,” she said. “I’ve taken him to counseling, but that didn’t seem to help. He just misses his dad so much. They were very close.”

Brycen would be close to his son if he had one. What father wouldn’t? “Maybe you should try doing things differently instead of trying to keep everything the same.”

Drury leaned back against the chair, drawing his attention unwittingly to her breasts pushing the material of her shirt tighter. “Like what?”

He had to regain his aplomb. “Like not playing catch.”

“How would not playing catch help his lack of enthusiasm?” She continued to scrutinize him.

“You’re not his dad. That’s something he did with his dad, not you.”

Her mouth opened and whatever she’d have said she didn’t. “Are you saying I should start baking brownies with him?”

He grinned. “Why not?”

“Wait a minute. Are you criticizing me?”

Analytical by nature, he didn’t include criticism in the talent. “No.” He wasn’t sure why he’d spoken his thoughts. Normally he engaged as little as possible with children or their mothers. “You don’t seem like the type who likes to bake brownies.”

She smiled. “No?”

“No. More like...bush pilot who makes grilled cheese sandwiches and french fries for dinner.”

“You don’t like grilled cheese?”

“I do. It’s just a kid meal, especially with the chocolate milk.”

“It’s too much work to make something different for me. Sorry. I should have asked what you wanted.”

“You like kid meals, just admit it.”

She sipped more of her chocolate milk, watching him with light in her eyes, telling him she responded to him as a man. Their banter had warmed the kitchen.

“Would you have taken this case if you knew I had a son?” she asked.

He should have seen that coming. She could see he had an issue with kids, one she didn’t understand and one he wouldn’t explain. “Your son, or any other child, had nothing to do with my decision.”

Flattening her hands on the table, she rubbed the surface, unaware she’d done it. She must be contemplating how to ask him something. “Why did you agree to come here and help me?”

“Your husband was an Alaska State Trooper. Law enforcement.”

She propped her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. “So it was a sense of duty?”

Why did his reason matter? “Duty. Anger. If I could stop them all from killing cops, I would. But I have to settle for one case at a time.”

What had led him into show business differed from what had driven him from Alaska. He’d gone into law enforcement because he wanted to make a difference. He’d only made a mess of his personal life in Alaska. That old, haunting darkness threatened to surface. Brycen wouldn’t let it. He’d put that part behind him long ago.

“You didn’t come here for a good story to put on your show?” Drury asked.

“Every case I solve is good for my show.” He didn’t include that every show kept him from witnessing death and the reminder that no matter how many cases he solved, 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 falling forward.

When she rose, her face passed in front of his. Their gazes locked. Heat quickly followed. A mounting sense of dread came over him. This wouldn’t end well if he continued to desire her. He had more than one compelling reason to steer clear of women like her. He shifted his gaze to the boy. And that.

Drury straightened. “Junior, why don’t you go pack?”

The boy didn’t move, still eyeing Brycen uncertainly.

“Junior?”

The boy looked up at her and then reluctantly turned and went up the hall.

“It usually doesn’t take him this long to get used to people,” Drury said. “He seems especially guarded with you. He responds to you, but then he withdraws.”

“He hasn’t decided whether he likes me or not.”

“Why is that? Do you think he picked up on your stiffness when you first met him?”

He didn’t say what he really thought. Junior sized him up, measuring him against his idea of a father figure. He might not be aware he did this, but Brycen felt it. Acknowledging that would take him down that dreaded path. The “what if” path.

“Maybe.”

“Do you like kids?” She moved to stand directly in front of him.

“I’ve never had kids of my own.” He wished she’d leave this topic alone.

Leaning over the sink, she washed her hands. “You don’t have to have kids of your own to like them.”

“What makes you think I don’t like them?”

Drying her hands on the towel hanging from a hook on the wall, she shrugged. Then she scrutinized him through the mirror. “Why were you so uncomfortable when you met him? What is it with you and kids?”

This conversation was over. Brycen stood. “Let’s get going.”

Turning from the sink, she frowned her confusion as he passed and followed him out of the bathroom. “Touchy subject?”

He stopped and turned and she bumped into him. Bounced, really. All her soft parts against his harder chest and abdomen. And her hands had landed on him. She pulled back as though startled.

He felt it, too. The sparks came out of nowhere and set them both on fire. Of all the women he’d met and considered dating, Drury didn’t fit the mold. She represented what he most sought to avoid. Single mom. Serious baggage. How could he compete with a dead husband? One she’d hired an elite investigation agency to solve his cold case.

“Look.” He dove right in. He had to stop this from heating up any more. “I’ve picked up on some attraction between us and I just have to get something off my chest.”

“Okay.” She took a step back.

“I don’t do marriage and I don’t do kids. You should know that up front.”

“Wh...what?”

Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to say something like that. “You need to understand that about me before this goes any further.”

Outraged, she put her hands on her hips. “Before what goes any further? You’re jumping to conclusions a little, don’t you think? Marriage?”

Maybe, maybe not. “I just want it out in the open.” And he didn’t want to talk about his past in Alaska.

She gaped at him, slack-jawed. “That you don’t do marriage or kids.”

“Yes. This is a business relationship. We don’t get involved. And if we...you know, then I’ve warned you.”

No marriage. No kids. That included Junior. He had nothing against the boy; he just couldn’t be part of her family unit.

“Well, for your information, I don’t want a relationship anyway. My husband was murdered. What makes you think I’d want to get involved with you?” She passed him.

Maybe he’d spoken too soon. Maybe he should have waited. “I’m sorry. I just thought I should tell you. I mean no disrespect.”

With a peculiar glance back, she went into the kitchen and started cleaning up before packing for their trip.

He helped her clear the table in awkward silence until she calmed down. He could tell she’d calmed, because she stopped slamming dishes.

“Why don’t you think you’ll never get married?” she asked at the sink.

“I don’t think. It’s a choice I’ve made because I don’t believe in it. Marriages never last. My parents were married almost thirty years and should have divorced after ten. Humans aren’t meant to stay married to the same person their entire lives. So why bother getting married?”

“You base your decision off your parents’ marriage? Did they love each other?”

“Sure. My mother loved that he worked and she didn’t have to and then she loved the alimony payments until she remarried. My dad loved a woman who didn’t complain and always had dinner ready and the laundry clean.”

She loaded a dish into the dishwasher. “You don’t make them sound very likable. Do you ever see them?”

“Every Christmas.” He threw out some trash, finding an automatic lid trash container by the counter.

“I bet you aren’t this charming on your TV show.”

He chuckled. She meant the exact opposite. He came across as an ass when he talked about marriage. Some people didn’t like hearing the truth. “My mother wasn’t happy. My father wasn’t happy. They convinced themselves early on that they were. And maybe they were at first. They liked each other. But then after a few years, they wasted too much time trying to make their marriage work. I just wish they wouldn’t have waited, that’s all. When they could no longer convince themselves they were happy, they should have ended it.”

She worked as she absorbed what he said. “You must feel like every memory of them together was a lie.”

“Some of them, yes. They basically played roles for my benefit. The good, loving mother who doted on her husband. The steady, kind, disciplinary father who took care of his wife. Now that I can see what phonies they were, it makes me bitter. I’d rather they fought and threw things. At least it would have been real.” He handed her a glass from the sink, which was full of about a day’s worth of dishes.

She took it from him. “You must not like your parents much.”

“Oh, no. Contrary. I love them both very much.”

She breathed a laugh. “Really.”

“Yes, especially now that I know who they really are.”

“Is that what you think you have with women? Real relationships?” She put the glass in the dishwasher.

“Unconditionally.” He truly believed in sticking with the truth no matter how ugly or harmful. Maybe that was the homicide detective in him. Maybe he’d learned from his parents.

With the water still running in the sink, she rested her hands on the counter and turned her head toward him. “Do you believe in love?”

This qualified as personal, but he didn’t object. She needed to understand. “I believe we’re meant to love lots of people, not just one. And I don’t mean that it’s okay to be unfaithful. Monogamy is important while the relationship lasts.”

“That’s not love.”

“It’s a form of love.” He rinsed a plate and handed it to her.

She took it. “No. That’s impulsively going from one relationship to the next and not holding out for the one that really matters.”

But the one that really matters didn’t exist. To him, every woman he was with mattered, not just one, exulted one. One, superior woman was the stuff of fairy tales. Like Cinderella. Pure fantasy. A wonderful, magical dream. She walked into that ballroom alone and everyone stopped just to watch her come down the stairs in her fairy godmother gown that outshined all others. Something like that would never happen in real life. A man didn’t find a woman who made all others seem plain and insignificant.

But he didn’t think he could make Drury understand.

“It’s love to me,” he said.

She put the plate in the dishwasher. “No. That is not love. Clearly you’ve never been in love.”

“I only know what works for me.” He handed her another plate.

“Well. Thanks for the warning, then.” She put the plate in the dishwasher and glanced at him from behind a sexy curtain of hair.

He didn’t say she likely idolized her husband in death and merely thought she had true love with him. He wouldn’t argue over this. He wouldn’t have a chance with her. He’d scared her off. Well, good. He didn’t need his ideals put to any kind of love test anyway. Especially since he also had to put aside the nagging feeling that his attraction to her rose above anything he’d ever experienced before.

His Cinderella...?

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