Cold Case Recruit. Jennifer MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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