Cold Case Recruit

by Jennifer Morey

“You don’t believe him?” Drury asked,

  “Oh, hell no. Evette’s been trying to get away from him for more than a year now. Her kids keep her there, though.”

  That corroborated what Evette had told them the first time they came here.

  “Where are her kids now?” Brycen asked.

  “They’re in school. They’ve been staying here while Melvin works.”

  Drury heard and saw part of a television in a clean, neat living room with a floral couch that had to be twenty years old.

  “He’s working now?” Brycen asked.

  “Yes. Went on a fishing trip the morning after Evette went missing. Didn’t even care to stick around to find out what happened to her.”

  “Where did he go?” Brycen asked.

  She swatted her hand in dismissal. “Who knows? He never says.”

  Melvin revealed very little about his fishing business.

  “What do you think happened to Evette?” Drury asked.

  Her face sagged with worry, lips pressing together and eyes going distant. When she recovered, she looked at each of them. “I dare not imagine what he might have done with her. Dragged her off into the woods and killed her. That’s my worst nightmare.”

  “Did Evette ever tell you anything about Melvin, anything suspicious? Was he doing anything unusual, meeting anyone unusual?”

  “No. She didn’t mention anything like that. Just that things were getting bad between them, that he hits her now.”

  “Is that something new? He’s never hit her before?”

  She waved a hand in disgust. “Oh, he’s always been a mean soul, talking nasty to her. Emotional abuse. But like I said about a year or more ago, things started changing. She called the police on him the first time.”

  “Yes, that’s in our report,” Brycen said. “Evette never mentioned anything that stands out?”

  “Believe me, I wish she had. My girl would do anything for her kids, to hang on to them, and to be around for them. Live, if you know what I mean. She started out thinking she could handle Melvin and stay in the marriage for them. But I’m afraid she may have discovered she couldn’t.”

  She might not have survived her desperate husband. Drury wished they could comb the island for her. See through trees. And if she didn’t turn up here, then they’d expand the search.

  She waited until they left to tell Brycen the idea that came from those thoughts.

  “Maybe you should go on television and broadcast that Evette has gone missing,” she said as they walked back toward the field.

  “Already alerted the local news stations.”

  She angled her head as they neared their ride. “When?”

  “When you were getting ready this morning. Kadin said he’d handle it.”

  “Very good. Teamwork.”

  He chuckled, low and breathy and a little flirtatious. “I’ll start telling you about my teleconferences.”

  She wished he would share more than that. He put his hand on her lower back as they made their way along the street. She didn’t think he’d done it to guide her, he did it as an intimate touch. That inexplicable heat came alive again. Where did it come from? Why him? And did he feel the same? That almost frightened her. If he did feel the same and she tumbled into a relationship with him, what would become of her? Would she have her heart broken again, this time not by the hands of a killer, but a man who didn’t believe marriage lasted?

  Just then a rally of bullets pelted the ground not three inches from Drury’s feet. She stopped a scream and searched for the source of the gunfire. What few people moved along the street ran. A woman screamed. Where was the shooter?

  Brycen grabbed Drury’s hand and pulled her into an all-out run toward the helicopter. Of course, they’d be safest there. Bulletproof glass...

  If they could make it there.

  Running past a stop sign, Drury heard the ping of a bullet on the metal.

  “Go ahead of me. Run to the trees!” Brycen turned with his gun drawn and shot toward the buildings where the shooter had taken cover.

  With a glance back over her shoulder, she saw the gunman had taken shelter in an alley.

  Brycen’s gunfire kept him back and out of sight.

  She reached the trees and stopped behind one, drawing her own gun and aiming for the alley, hoping she wouldn’t have to fire.

  Brycen took care of that, pausing in his run to once again fire toward the alley. He reached the trees. Taking her hand, he ran with her along the path, frequently looking back.

  In the opening, the pilot must have heard the gunshots. He had the rear door open and the blades rotating for liftoff.

  More gunfire made Drury duck. She nearly tripped. Brycen lifted her and swung her into the back of the chopper, jumping in after her with bullets hitting the side of the chopper. He closed the side door and the pilot lifted them into the air.

  The gunman continued to fire from the trees, ducking back as the pilot fired back with a bigger-caliber gun attached to the helicopter. Chunks of bark flew where the gunman hid.

  The gunman peered out from his cover, wearing a heavy jacket and a hat, firing at the helicopter. The bullets didn’t penetrate and as the helicopter rose higher, the gunman stopped and watched them fly away.

  *

  Holding pages from Noah’s crime report, Brycen paced to the other side of his cabin and stopped. Drury watched him from the kitchen, her son at the table drawing one of his favorite superheroes. He hadn’t put up much of a fuss this time in going with Brycen, but he’d also not said much. He withdrew a lot, going off into his own little world.

  She stirred spaghetti sauce as Brycen moved toward her, focused on a page. He turned that page over and then paused, going back to the previous page. His brow creased deeper and he stopped again. Studying the page, he stepped to the table where Junior was drawing and put the pages down, running his forefinger down the edge and flipping through more pages. He came to the last page and then raised his head, not seeing anything, immersed in thought.

  “What is it?” Drury stopped stirring.

  Junior looked up at her and then him.

  Without answering, he bent for his briefcase and set it on the table. Opening the case, he searched through the documents inside. He took out one of them and put it on the table next to Junior’s drawing.

  Junior looked down at the document, his interest and curiosity captured. Drury wondered if Brycen had done that on purpose, included the boy in what he’d been studying. He waited for her as she left the stove and went to the table between Junior and Brycen. He’d taken out the copy of Noah’s report on the domestic violence call.

  “What did you find?” Drury asked.

  “Did somebody make a mistake?” Junior asked.

  Drury messed up his hair at the cuteness. Maybe only a mother would find that cute, his innocent question, as though another kid had made a mistake on his homework or something.

  “Somebody made a mistake all right.” Brycen put down a copy of another report, the one of the rape attempt, and pointed to the side of the document. “See this copy? There are no marks on it. It’s clean.”

  “Nobody drew on it?” Junior asked, confusion crowding his brow.

  “Now look at this document.” Brycen moved the attempted rape report over to reveal the domestic violence report and pointed to the edge of both with his forefingers. “This one looks like a copy of a scanned document.”

  Drury leaned closer. “Why is that significant?” So what if someone had made a copy of a scanned document? Anyone could have printed it and then Carter could have copied the scanned printout.

  But why scan the report in the first place? To preserve Noah’s signature.

  She saw him reading the report, running his finger down the lines and then stopping at the point where Noah had typed about meeting Evette and Melvin. His finger moved to the line boxing in the text, then down lower, to the blank space above Noah’s signature.

  “Someone covered up the rest of
this text and modified what was originally typed here. With the right Portable Document Format, the text could have been edited.”

  Some text had been edited and some had been completely covered, then the page copied and scanned to replace the original. “Where is the original signed report?” she asked. Would Carter have risked saving it? Maybe he had done so as leverage against whoever had been at the Cummingses’ house, in case things didn’t go as planned and he found himself facing charges.

  Brycen looked up and didn’t have to say anything. Now more than ever, he thought Carter had something to do with Noah’s death.

  Chapter 8

  Brycen made Drury wait for him while he broke into Carter’s house and searched for the original file. He’d struck out. The file hadn’t been on his computer or anywhere in the house. He hadn’t found anything suspicious, either. Carter—if he was involved in Noah’s death somehow—would know what to hide as a state trooper familiar with the case. If he’d kept a copy of the original, either in paper or electronic form, he’d put it somewhere other than his residence.

  Now Brycen waited with Drury for Carter to meet them once again in a conference room. Drury stood before one of the photos hanging on the wall. A waterlanding plane flew over the smooth surface of a lake, the low angle of the sun casting colorful reflections, and light disappearing in the thick forest.

  He went to admire the photo with her.

  She glanced over and up at him before continuing to absorb the picture. “This reminds me of a time my dad took us on a day trip near Fairbanks. He flew to a cabin on the shore of a remote lake. We had to land on the water. It was my first water landing. The water was smooth as glass, like this picture. He came in for the landing, flying just above the surface, and then touched down. Soft tap and gliding. He was a good pilot. Still is. Good at landing, especially on the water. I think that’s the day I decided I would be a pilot when I grew up.”

  “That’s a nice memory.” He put his hand on her lower back, as he seemed inclined to do more often now.

  She looked up at him and an instant later, their fire roared to life.

  “Did the rest of the trip match the landing?” he asked.

  “Not quite.” She smiled. “I thought of the landing the whole weekend.”

  Dreaming had magical charm in childhood. He had dreamed of becoming something of a Sherlock Holmes, or one of the characters who solved the multiple mysteries he had read.

  He looked down at her as her eyes lifted. A warm, sweet moment of connection passed between them. Each still floating with fond memories that had influenced their paths, a bond strengthened with the common thread they shared. Inspiration.

  He drew his head closer to hers.

  “You’re back.”

  Brycen jerked his head back and turned with Drury at the sound of Carter’s voice. He lowered his hand from her, seeing Carter’s gaze move from there to Brycen’s face in barely masked disapproval. Why did he disapprove? Was he threatened?

  Turning from the photo, Brycen dropped the falsified file onto the conference room table.

  “What’s that?” Carter moved toward the table.

  “Things will go a lot easier for you if you confess,” Brycen said.

  Carter’s brow lowered and he looked from Brycen to the file, which he opened. A few second later, he recognized the report. “It’s Noah’s report.”

  “Why did you tamper with it?” Brycen asked.

  Drury stayed by the wall, leaning back and watching Carter, disappointment clear in the way she did so.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t tamper with anything.” He picked up the report and leafed through the pages.

  “What was in Noah’s original report?” Brycen asked. “What did he have to say about the stranger at Evette and Melvin’s home?”

  “You’re taking this to the extreme.”

  Brycen ignored his attempts to evade the truth. “He noticed something, didn’t he?” he said. “And then he began to look into things himself. In fact, he started doing that before the domestic violence call, didn’t he? He noticed something about you. Maybe places you went. People you met. He was onto you.”

  “Onto me.” Carter laughed as he spoke. “I have done nothing. You’re making this all up. Is that how you got your zero-unsolved case record? Accusing the innocent of crimes they didn’t commit?”

  “What crime am I accusing you of?”

  “I didn’t kill Noah.”

  “Maybe not, but you know who did, don’t you?”

  Carter’s entire face hardened. “I think it’s time you left. I can have you shut out of this investigation, you know.”

  Brycen stepped forward, putting his face close to Carter’s, looking down from his greater height. “You can’t stop me from finding Noah’s killer. And you can’t stop me from exposing your involvement. If you don’t come clean now, you’ll face a much worse sentence.”

  Carter didn’t back down, only continued to meet Brycen’s stare.

  Drury moved away from the wall and came to stand at Carter’s side. “Noah was your friend.”

  At last Carter faced her. “Drury...”

  “He was your friend and you betrayed him. Why?”

  “I didn’t betray him.’

  “Why did you lie about being at the Cummingses’ house?” she demanded.

  Instead of denying his presence, he didn’t answer this time.

  That served as enough of a confession for Brycen. He didn’t know yet what role Carter played in Noah’s death, but he had played a role. And he knew something critical to the investigation, something he wouldn’t reveal.

  *

  After leaving the station, Drury went with Brycen to the coffee shop where Noah had been shot. She still felt the aftereffects of Brycen nearly kissing her when Carter had interrupted them. Looking at the picture had stirred up things that held deeper meaning and entwined them together in that moment. She had to tell herself to stay focused on Noah’s investigation, which also came with shame for straying, even for a bit.

  Noah had gone to this coffee shop often, but had his visits been strategic? Did it mean something that he’d been shot leaving that particular coffee shop?

  She couldn’t grasp how Carter could betray his friend and partner. More than what he’d done to betray him, the apathy for Noah. How could he have not cared what happened to Noah as a result of whatever action he’d taken, or whatever, or whoever, he’d gotten himself entangled in?

  Stepping inside the quaint store, she took in the jazzy music and rustic decor along with a giant gas fireplace in the middle. Early on a weekday, several patrons sat at tables or stood in line for their prework coffee. Nothing sinister popped out at her. In fact, this place had a popular reputation, competing with a chain store three blocks down. Noah had liked it for its originality and its ambience.

  “Want to get some coffee and sit down for a while?” she asked.

  Brycen finished searching the shop for suspicious faces or something else—as though he feared running into Avery again. “Sure.”

  His reluctance to go anywhere public made her wonder why.

  He bought her coffee and she chose a table at the window, a good vantage point to see the entire shop and also outside in the front.

  Brycen sipped his coffee and looked outside, going still when he saw something.

  “What is it?” She put her cup down.

  Without answering, he followed the movement of someone entering the shop. She twisted to see an older man dressed in a suit and tie beneath a long overcoat get in line. Very sophisticated.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  Brycen turned away from the man and didn’t answer her.

  “Why are you so secretive about your past here?”

  “It’s no big secret.” He drank some coffee and put his cup down, looking at her unapologetically.

  “Maybe not the part about you being a detective, but there’s something you haven’t told me.”

&nb
sp; “Something personal,” he said with an icy note.

  She sat back and sipped her coffee, seeing the older man pay for his coffee. As he waited for the barista to prepare his order, he glanced around the shop and saw her watching him. Next his gaze shifted to Brycen, who had his back at an angle to him.

  The man’s everyday expression, someone just stopping for a hot cup of joe, changed, going hard with dislike.

  “He saw you. Who is he?”

  “A retired army colonel,” he said without looking back.

  The man retrieved his coffee and headed toward them.

  “Here he comes.”

  Brycen muttered a curse just loud enough for her to hear.

  “You,” the man said as he reached their table, brown eyes beady with dark circles beneath, wrinkled skin beginning to sag. He kept his gray hair neatly combed and clipped short.

  “Mr. Jefferson.”

  Although this encounter clearly didn’t settle well with Brycen, he still managed to maintain politeness. He’d been that way with Avery, as well.

  “Avery told me she ran into you.” The man held his coffee without drinking. “I see you didn’t do the right thing and leave.”

  “I’m here on business that doesn’t concern you, Mr. Jefferson.”

  “Yeah? Well, that business has already taken too long. I’d have gone the rest of my life happy to never lay eyes on you again.”

  Drury doubted he felt happiness often with his attitude.

  “I’m not here to cause you any grief, Mr. Jefferson.”

  “I heard why you came.” Mr. Jefferson looked at Drury. “I’m sorry for your loss, miss, but you don’t need this man to solve your husband’s murder. Nobody here wants Brycen back. We were all glad to see him go.”

  “You talk as though everyone in the city wanted me gone,” Brycen said.

  “Everyone I know did.” He sounded rather pompous.

  “I’m at a loss, Mr. Jefferson,” Drury said. “I don’t know who you are.”

  Brycen shot a look her way. What did he expect? If he wasn’t going to tell her, she had to find out from someone other than him.

  Mr. Jefferson chuckled low and full of cynicism. “So he hasn’t told you.”