Cold Case Recruit by Jennifer Morey

looked over at him as he did so.
    “Just in case.” He tucked the gun back into its holster under his jacket.
    Opening the door, he jumped down and turned to help Drury. She hesitated but then let him put his hands on her waist and lift her down. As she stood before him, close enough to feel her breasts against him, he stepped back. He couldn’t even touch her without having a sexual reaction. It was like touching a live wire.
    Walking toward the cabin, he kept her behind him in case this hillbilly decided to start shooting. He held up his hand in greeting. People who lived like this had their own method of defense.
    The closer he came, the more he saw Evette. He climbed up the porch steps. Dark circles under her eyes. Chapped hands and lips. Wrenching emptiness in her eyes. And most infuriating of all, the faint signs of a healing bruise along the corner of her lower lip.
    “Who the hell are you?” Melvin asked, a man hiding behind his ego.
    Brycen had to work hard to stop himself from grabbing the man and giving him a memorable taste of what he inflicted on his wife.
    “Brycen Cage and Drury Decoteau,” he said, indicating Drury standing to his right at the top of the porch steps. “We’re here to ask you some questions about Noah Decoteau’s death.”
    “I’ve already answered questions. Police already came here. Been here two, three times in the last year.”
    “I’m not from the police,” Brycen said. “I’m with a private investigation agency.”
    “Then I don’t have to talk to you. So why don’t you get back on that helicopter and be on your way?”
    Brycen turned to Evette. “Mrs. Cummings, I’d like a word with you alone if I could.”
    “She ain’t talking to you.” Melvin sent a threatening look to her. “Get inside where you belong.”
    She started to move toward the door behind Melvin.
    Brycen used his distraction to his advantage. He knocked Melvin’s arm and had the rifle in his possession. Using the butt of the rifle, he gave the arrogant, worthless man a good knock on his jaw. Brycen heard Drury gasp as Melvin stumbled back and fell against the door, making Evette flinch and then gape at Brycen.
    “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” Brycen said.
    Melvin stared at him, still against the door, now having no illusions about the kind of man who stood before him.
    “We can do this in a civil fashion.” Brycen released the magazine from the rifle and tossed it to the ground behind him. “Or we can do more of this. Either way, I’m going to talk to your wife.”
    After wiping some blood off his jaw, Melvin straightened from the door.
    “You know.” Brycen pressed the bolt catch and then pulled back the charging handle, sending the round flying from the chamber. “I’m always amazed how a man as big as yourself can be so puny.” He inspected the chamber to ensure that it held no more ammunition, and then admired the weapon. Rather nice for a villager. “Do you enjoy hurting your wife?”
    “What?” The man shifted from one foot to the other in an attempt to look macho. “I don’t hurt her. Do I, honey?”
    Evette turned frightened eyes to him and shook her head.
    Brycen used the butt of the rifle to hit the side of Melvin’s temple, sending him back against the door again, only this time he slumped to the wood planks of the porch.
    “What the...” He put a hand to his temple, at first taken aback and then angry. He climbed to his feet, staring Brycen down, or attempting to.
    “I don’t like liars.” Brycen leaned the rifle against the railing next to the stairs. “You and I both know Evette called for help a year ago, and you and I both know why. So, since you don’t want her to talk, why don’t you start by telling me why she didn’t press charges?”
    “We had a fight.” Melvin took a brave step forward. “That’s what married couples do. Fight.”
    “They don’t have one-sided fistfights. Try again. I asked you why she didn’t press charges.”
    “She