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.”
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