Jennifer Morey - Cold Case Recruit

“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.