Cold Case Recruit. Jennifer Morey
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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.