Silence the Northwoods: The Northwoods Trilogy, #1

By Auria Jourdain

A painful past. A wall of steel. And an ex from hell.

     Could the holidays get any worse? After his dad's death, Detroit FBI field agent Colton Ramsay didn't think so. His mom's on hospice and his ex-college sweetheart just married his ex-roommate--and now he's been assigned to investigate a murder in the icy wastelands of the Upper Peninsula. But when sexy ski hill manager Kyra Erikkson and her five-year-old son storm into Colton's life, he has a change of heart. Her chestnut curls and baby blues ignite a carnal need deep within that he'd suppressed long ago. But Kyra and her son need his protection. Can Colton lower his emotional wall and let love in?

A secret past. A life on the run. And an ex from hell.

     Kyra Erikkson has spent years sacrificing everything she loves to keep her five-year-old son Jackson safe from her nightmare ex-husband. Settling in a small town in the Northwoods, life is quiet—until her best friend is murdered and all hell breaks loose. When handsome FBI agent Colton Ramsay arrives to investigate, his intrusive questions and brooding attraction both infuriate and arouse Kyra to no end. She tries to keep the man at a safe distance--and her past hidden--but secrets come with a price, and Kyra is forced to make a decision that scares her more than her ex: Can she trust another man with her fragile heart and soul after having them both ripped to shreds?

*This novel contains strong sexual content, some graphic violence and language. Suitable for 18+only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Auria Jourdain
• Release date: Oct 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370888917

Auria Jourdain

History buff, Francophile, and hopeless romantic-- the perfect mixture for writing romance! I have fond childhood memories of reading on quiet afternoons. I loved the "happily ever after" sweet teen romances, but I quickly plunged into the world of historical romance--my get-away-from-real-life transporter. Add in a degree in Political Studies with six years of French--twenty years later, I found a new career. With three published works, I'm still trying to decide which sub-genre is my favorite. I started with historical romances, and two of the six, Pure of Heart and Pure Temptation, are now published. My first YA novel, Spirit of the Northwoods, was released in April of 2016 for my 17 year old autistic son during Autism Awareness month, hoping to spread familiarity about the daily struggles that an autistic person endures. Silence the Northwoods, the first book of my Romantic Suspense trilogy, will be released on January 21, 2017. A spin-off of Spirit of the Northwoods, it has many of the same secondary characters, but it’s strictly for adults. I have a New Adult novel I’m working on for NaNaWriMo 2016, and I’d love to try my hand at a sweet romance YA series in the future. I live in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with my husband of 21 years and my four children. I spend the long winters plotting and scheming my next book, and in the mild summers, my family and I spend every waking moment we can hiking and kayaking the Northwoods. Living fifteen miles from the shores of Lake Superior, my muse is often piqued by the awe-inspiring beauty that surrounds me. I live where I play, and I can't imagine a more fitting place for me!

Book preview

SILENCE THE NORTHWOODS

By: Auria Jourdain

Copyright © 2017

Auria Jourdain Books

All rights reserved.

Edition 1

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the arduous work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The historical events are also fabricated; however, the historical details of the times were researched for accuracy. Some literary license was taken with certain places and dates to fit the story. Any product names are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.

Cover art and photography by Earth and Sky Photography, and images legally obtained from Dreamstime, Inc.

~This book is also in print at online retailers~

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my good friend and mentor, Dixie Lee Brown who inspired and encouraged me to write my own romantic suspense. You guided me from the beginning, my friend. I’m dedicating Cat to you. I hope you enjoy your doppelganger.

I’m also dedicating this book to the many staff members at Mt. Zion Ski Hill in my hometown of Ironwood, Michigan. Kolleen Prasnick, Gruff Leatham, Todd Hamel, Jason Hofstede, and all of the Gogebic Community College Ski Area Management kids—I sat at the chalet for two winters with my son and listened to your wonderful stories, incorporating a few of them into this book. Mt. Zion is a wonderful place with a family-friendly, cozy, hometown atmosphere that’s near and dear to my heart. I hope I portrayed it in a positive light.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Once again, I can’t thank my husband, Brian Hughes enough. He is an amazing man that will read all of my books, no matter what the genre. He listens to me and helps fill in plot holes, and this was an especially difficult story line to keep straight. He supports my crazy writing sessions and proofreads as well, and I feel lucky to have him in my support network.

Many, many thanks to my good friend, mentor, and fellow writer, Dixie Lee Brown for critiquing my work and encouraging me to publish this novel.

And thanks to my beta readers and ardent supporters, Michele Macleod, Cari Hofstede, Kim Koch, and Julie Imhoff. You guys rock!

Last, many thanks to the staff of Mt. Zion Ski Hill, both former and present. I learned a lot from you by asking questions about the ins and outs of running a ski hill, and you were always quick to give me a story to go along with it.

NOTE: This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any product names are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.

Prologue

Ashwood, Michigan

Silvercap Ski Hill

Stop! Did you hear that, Kalli?

Kallista Janssen tilted her head, her burgundy ponytail swishing against the back of her gold Ski Area Management parka as she propelled forward with her ski poles. She frowned. She couldn’t hear anything but the bitter wind in her ears and the gentle swish of the snow underneath her newly waxed skis. It’s just the wind, Dalton. Let’s go.

Miranda Dalton snowplowed and came to a quick stop, pulling her hat from her head. Her long, blond hair glistened in the moonlight as she cocked her head. No, listen. It’s coming from behind us.

Bending her knees, Kalli pushed her skis outward, shredding the newly fallen powder. She stopped. Tugging her helmet from her head, she examined the cross-country trails intersecting their path. She closed her eyes and listened.

The timbre of the eerie evening closed in on her. The brittle branches of the skeletal birch trees scraped against one another above her heads as a lone coyote yelped in the distance.

Drawing in a gasp, Miranda took a step back, her brows drawn up. See?

Kalli rolled her eyes, waving off the woman’s theatrics and paranoia. The disappearance of one of the sophomores last spring had the S.A.M. students seeing possible killers at every turn. "Come on, Dalton. It’s the wind. You and Hannah need to ease up on the horror movies, girl. We’d better return to base." Kalli straightened the straps of her helmet, preparing to place it back on her head.

Miranda tugged on her jacket. Shaking her head, she stabbed a gloved finger toward the ridge they’d just passed. "Tell me you didn’t hear that."

It started as a low hum. Squinting into the darkness, Kalli held her breath, focused on nothing else. The fine hair prickled at the nape of her neck as the strange, ragged reverberation of what was undoubtedly a man’s sough came from somewhere behind them.

Kalli stiffened and did an about-face, standing behind Miranda. Sure as hell doesn’t sound like a skier.

I think it’s a snowshoer.

Kalli flipped on her headlamp. The path was clear. No tracks but theirs were visible on the newly groomed trail. She cupped her hand to her ear as heavy footsteps accompanied the grunting. It’s probably Jonas. It’s a beautiful night, and he’s always hiking these trails.

Miranda raised her brow and followed the mountain peak, blinking the snowflakes from her light eyelashes. He’s coming over the ridge now. He sounds like he’s gasping for air. Damn Jonas! She thrust her poles in a nearby snowbank. Stepping on her heel lever, she detached her boot from the skis and dumped her medic pack on the ground. We’d better wait for him.

Kalli groaned. This girl was going to be the death of her. She’d been on her feet all day, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the dorms. Are you freaking kidding me? Come on, Dalton. The guys are waiting for us to get back. Sam’ll be pissed if Michael has to break out the sleds to come find us. Pulling on her helmet, Kalli adjusted her hat and panned the ridge line. I’m heading back. Jonas can take care of himself.

Miranda yanked her back. This is our job, Janssen. What if he’s hurt? Listen—the guy’s wheezing.

At the stubborn set of Miranda’s chin, her blue eyes spitting fire, Kalli clutched her poles and waited. The hint of a hiss whispered across the night. Not a definitive wheeze by any means, but she wasn’t a freaking doctor.

Come on, Miranda! We aren’t supposed to be out here without one of the guys in the first place.

Crossing her arms, Miranda jutted her chin out. "Sam wouldn’t approve of you leaving me like this."

Yeah, throw that in my face.

Lifting her goggles, Kalli cursed under her breath. Older than most of them, Miranda was a first-year student in the Ski Management program. She’d trained as a paramedic before returning to school, and she was constantly trying to prove herself either by undermining the rest of them or by using her medical skills as leverage against them—or both.

It drove Kalli crazy.

Worse, Miranda loved it when a broken bone came through. Apparently, blood and gore turned her on.

Damn, that's morbid. No wonder she loves those stupid horror films...

Miranda removed the first aid kit from her pack, and Kalli nervously adjusted her ski gloves. What the hell was she supposed to do? If she returned to base alone, she’d get in trouble with their coordinators, and she was nearly finished with her degree.

Glancing around nervously, she cleared her throat. I’m telling you, this ain’t smart, girl. It’s one of your apocalyptic zombie shows waiting to happen.

Miranda laughed. I just want to be sure he’s okay.

Whatever. Reluctantly following her partner’s lead, Kalli pushed the latch on her ski bindings with her pole and released her boots from the platform. She did the same with the other ski and thrust her poles into a nearby snowbank. You know we’re gonna catch hell for this, right?

Miranda rolled her eyes. I wasn’t going to wait around for Alex or Michael to finish their freaking tacos. I didn’t even want to come in tonight, but your damn boyfriend had to act like an asshat. Who the hell is stupid enough to try and eat twenty tacos in five minutes?

Kalli shrugged. I’m not Dylan’s keeper.

Miranda turned toward the ridge line and called out into the night, her voice echoing against the granite cliffs. Hello! Are you in need of medical help?

The short grunts emanated louder from the peak as the person plodded to the top of the hill with a steady gate.

Kalli shrugged. See? He can’t hear us. He’s fine.

A hulking figure emerged from the other side. Silhouetted by the full moon, the burly man trekked along at a fast pace, his snowshoes squeaking against the new powder. He propelled his body forward with two poles, his dark ski parka enveloping his thick body to the knees and a face mask shrouding his head.

Every nerve in Kalli’s body prickled, and she took a step back. The first thing that jumped to her mind was a black bear.

Miranda rolled her eyes and pushed past her. "Don’t be such a scaredy cat, Janssen. It’s Jonas!"

Kalli clenched her fists. That doesn’t look like Jonas to me. This so wasn’t cool. Growing up in a rough area of Duluth, she had a sixth sense about trouble, and something about this didn’t sit well in her gut. Come on, Dalton. The guy doesn’t look injured. I say we leave him alone.

Damnit, Sam’s warned the locals to stay on the snowshoe trails. The ungroomed paths are dangerous. He’s gonna get hurt. Miranda’s nostrils flared. Rifling through her backpack, she pulled out her radio. We’d better call it in. Sam wanted to know if we saw anyone using the ski runs after closing.

Jeez, this girl was stubborn. Was she that hard up to impress Sam and Ms. Erikkson with her skills? There was no way in hell that was Jonas Pylkas!

Kalli retreated further, ready to grab her poles and skis. Shaking her head defiantly, she slammed her goggles down. She’d be damned if they’d end up dead because of Dalton’s lack of good judgment. If you want to put yourself in danger, have at it. I’m going back. Turning toward her skis, she left Miranda behind.

The walkie-talkie squealed, and Kalli grunted in disgust as Miranda’s voice echoed through the trees.

Patrol Two to base. You guys see any other cars out in the lot? We’ve got an unidentified—

As Miranda’s blood-curdling scream echoed down the mountainside, Kalli whipped around, prickles dancing across her clammy skin. Oh my God!

The snowshoer was hunched over Miranda, his face hidden behind a neoprene ski mask as he whispered in her ear.

Kalli’s adrenaline spiked. She turned and ran as hard as she could. Diving off the path about fifty yards from the peak, she hid behind the thick, snow-covered boughs of a huge evergreen.

Fear seized her heart. As the lub-dub pummeled through her chest wall, she clamped a gloved hand over her mouth.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Clenching her jaw, Kalli swallowed. Miranda was in trouble, and here she was, hiding behind a damn tree. Taking a deep breath, she hunkered in the shadows of the underbrush and waited.

Miranda laid upon the ground, barely conscious as her attacker lingered over her with a rope. Newly fallen snowflakes glistened in the light of his headlamp. Holding up a small hammer with his left hand, the man paused for a moment to sniff the tip of his weapon. With a disgusting show of the macabre, his tongue snaked through the hole of his ski mask to lick the blade.

Fighting the urge to vomit, Kalli quickly turned away. She glanced back as the man placed his weapon in the pocket of his coat. As he heaved Miranda across his shoulder, blood dripped from the reflective tape on her ski jacket in rivulets.

Oh, my God! Miranda, no!

As Kalli’s screams echoed through the trees, their attacker turned toward her. Holding his hand to his eyes, he carefully settled his prey upon the ground. A beam of light flew in her direction. Holding her breath, she squatted under the branches of the spruce and prayed.

Cupping his hand to his ear, he paused, shining his headlamp in her direction. I can hear you, dovey, the man rasped, his thick voice muffled by his mask. And I’ll find you. Two for the price of one? How quaint.

He can’t see me.

She peered through the branches, her pulse thumping an erratic tune in her ears as she stared desperately at her skis not ten yards away.

I bet you taste good. The lunatic took his hammer from his pocket and held it up. Illuminating his face with the light, the man attempted his best Hannibal Lector impression, flicking his tongue across his teeth.

Pure adrenaline kicked in. Pushing away from the tree, Kalli bounded through the snow as fast as she could. The high flex of her ski boots held her back, but she drove past the pain radiating up her calves. Her chest swelled, a sob escaping her throat. She’d make it—she had to.

Please God.

Suddenly, Kalli’s arms flew up. Her legs disappeared beneath the hard crust of snow. The icy chill permeated every cell of her body, and she cried out as she waded through the heavy, waist-deep snow. With every bit of strength she could muster, she trudged toward her skis, but the man’s wheezing grew closer.

As the fresh powder enveloped her mid-thighs, her knees buckled under the strain. With the next attempted step, her arms windmilled, and she plunged face-first into the snow.

Sobbing piteously, her tears freezing against her cheeks, Kalli’s heart sank. She couldn’t run fast enough. She wasn’t going to make it.

You aren’t a quitter, Janssen. Get moving!

Climbing out of the snowbank, she removed her goggles and brushed the cold droplets from her eyes. Her breath caught.

She froze.

She felt him. And smelled him.

He was approaching her from behind. As the pungent scent of some woodsy cologne mixed with horrible body odor hit her in the face, she slammed her helmet and goggles back on, scrambling toward her abandoned gear.

All of a sudden, excruciating pain blasted from her heels to the backs of her knees. The muscles in her calves jerked and clenched. Shrieking, she fell forward, spots floating across her vision. Bile gurgled at her throat. She reached a trembling hand to her injury, the blood soaking through her snow pants.

The man knelt next to her. As his snow pants rustled against his thick form, the crampons of his snowshoes clicked against one another ominously. His foul, garlicky breath burned her nostrils as he turned her over, his hammer hanging from his hand.

He had her right where he wanted her.

Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes.

This is it. I’m going to die.

You should’ve kept going, dovey. You aren’t exactly my type, but—

Miranda? Kalli, where are you guys?

Kalli’s eyes shot open. As the voice echoed through the night, her vision blurred. She tried to sit up. Dylan?

Looks like it’s your lucky day. The man leaned closer and placed a light kiss upon her cheek. I wish I could say the same for your friend.

In one last desperate attempt, her survival instinct kicked in. Pushing the pain away, Kalli growled. Her arm shot up, and she tore the mask from the brute’s face. He wrenched away from her, his hands flying to his face before she could get a good look at him.

Groaning, she raised her head and stared into the darkness, taking every effort to focus on the attacker’s beam of light scattering haphazardly across the snow. He bolted toward his prey and tossed Miranda over his back, setting off down the mountain at breakneck speed.

Only then did Kalli succumb to the darkness.

Chapter 1

Ashwood, Michigan–Upper Peninsula

"Turn right on Lake Road, now."

Gripping the steering wheel, Colton Ramsay cursed as Siri’s robotic voice chimed from the smart phone attached to the dashboard of his black Ford Explorer. Spinning around to look over his shoulder, he attempted a quick U-turn.

Damnit, Ramsay, look out! As the horn of a logging truck blared from behind them, his partner, David Cross, clutched at the passenger-side seat belt.

Colton swerved into his own lane, his heart pounding furiously. A few of the trucks honked as they passed him on his left, but one old man waved at him, practically acknowledging his city-boy status. Colton took a deep breath and returned the kind gesture. Surely, his SUV’s government plates dictated he wasn’t from around here.

In one hundred feet, turn right on Greenbush Avenue. Turn right now.

I wish to hell she’d shut up, he grumbled. Hold on, Cross. He slowly braked. The tires squealed on the slick, snow-packed ice, and he turned the wheel sharply. Whipping out of a fishtail, he swerved into the parking lot of a local steakhouse, missing a parked van by a foot—only to crash into an eight-foot snowbank with a thud.

He slammed his palms against the steering wheel. Shit. This can’t be freaking happening...

What the hell are you doing, Ramsay?

I got it. Throwing the SUV into reverse, Colton rocked his vehicle back and forth, hoping to dislodge it. The Explorer’s tires groaned, spinning wildly, but the car didn’t budge. The wheels merely spit dirty snow over his windshield—the equivalent of the middle finger in his book.

As the stench of burning rubber filled the cab, he gripped the wheel harder. You can’t be serious.

Give it up, Ramsay. We’re stuck.

Glaring at his partner, Colton yanked harder, pulling the gear shift back and forth. After a few minutes of wasted effort, he put the vehicle in park.

Running his hands through his short hair, he ceded to the damn car, his thumbs thumping against the gear shift in mock deference. Why did this crap always happen to him? And on a bad day, too. Or a bad year?

Be honest, man. More like ten.

He raised his head and glanced around at the quarter-sized flakes that had followed them all the way from Detroit. The snow fell quickly, enveloping the hood of the SUV in a few short minutes. The wipers swished across the glass, clearing the scene briefly, but another minute of hard precipitation darkened the window once more.

Colton closed his eyes, resting his head against the steering wheel. This mess was his fault. He couldn’t focus. His mind had been churning a mile a minute since they’d left Detroit. His mother’s recent hospitalization had him in a tailspin.

And it didn’t help that their boss had sent them to bum-fuck Egypt, the Arctic, or God knows where. Now they were stuck.

In a fucking snowbank.

He looked at his partner. Now what do we do?

David pulled his laptop from the back seat and sighed. I’ll call for help. Snow’s coming down too fast to try and dig us out. I’ll get Triple A here. Sit tight.

Colton rested the back of his head against the seat and stared out the window. They’d fought the weather as soon as they’d crossed the Mackinaw Bridge into the Upper Peninsula seven hours ago, although the white-out hadn’t blinded him until they’d reached the Eastern Edge Indian Reservation sixty miles from Ashwood. The wicked wind had swept snow across the road in drifts, and it had taken every bit of his concentration to traverse the highway safely.

He hit the wipers, but it didn’t help. This is unbelievable, man. Have you ever seen it snow like this?

Typing furiously on his laptop, David chuckled. "My pop used to bring us camping here in the summer. We aren’t in Kansas anymore, my friend. It’s God’s country for sure."

No kidding, Colton muttered. I can’t believe my sister lives up here. This is brutal. His sister Penny was a grad student at Northern Michigan University in Marquette, and apparently, she loved living in the Upper Peninsula. He had no clue why. In fact, Colton once suggested that she ask one of her psych friends to do a full mental work-up on her. Thank God I didn’t let her convince me to apply for a job with the state police.

David smirked. You lucky S.O.B. Aren’t you glad the FBI took you instead? He shut his laptop. Tow truck will be here in a while.

Colton unbuckled his seatbelt with a heavy sigh. I can’t just sit here. He stepped from the car. Clutching at the door handle, he steadied himself as his black-capped Oxfords slipped across the slick pavement. Christ, it’s cold. Buttoning his black overcoat, he pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves and stumbled to the front of the SUV to assess the damage.

He kicked the tire and cursed once more. His attempt at freeing them had forced snow under his bumper, and nothing but a winch or a shovel—if a person were that stupid—would get them out. He wiped the dense precipitation from the hood of his car and growled.

Heya, you stuck, mister?

Colton turned around. The person parked next to him gave him a friendly wave as he slammed the door of his truck, the words Jorgensen Electric printed on the side. Pulling on his blaze-orange hunting hat, the lanky man zipped his thick parka and twirled his handlebar mustache around his finger before he held out his hand amicably.

Colton returned the gesture. My partner called us a tow.

The man shook his head and opened the back of his truck. It’ll take hours before a truck can get to ya in this storm. I’ll have you’s out quicker. He handed Colton a shovel and two tire wedges made of hard vinyl.

Colton smiled at the man’s distinct vernacular, a mixture of a Canadian accent and some local dialect he hadn’t heard before. Thanks.

Taking the wedges from Colton, the man placed them at the base of the back tires and tipped his hat. Go ahead and start ’er, hey?

Nodding, Colton hopped in the driver’s seat.

David turned as the back bumper shook. How’s it look?

I think we’re okay, Cross. The fender’s bent, that’s all. We’ve got help. Roll down your window.

David turned around and flicked the automatic button on his door. As the window lowered, the older man saluted them with a smile. Okay, son. Put ’er in reverse. Slow now, turn yer wheel hard to ’da right.

Shifting the car into gear, Colton did as the man bid. The wheels spun as the back tires gripped the wedges and gained a little traction.

Whoa, let her sit a minute, ’der now. Lugging a bag of salt from the back of his truck, he poured a generous amount around the tires. Using the shovel, the man dug around the front of the car before returning to Colton’s window. Try it again, nice and slow.

Colton eased his foot on the gas, but still nothing. The acrid scent of burning rubber filled his nostrils, and he coughed. It’s gonna take more than a shovel, I’m afraid.

No worries. With a sharp whistle, the man gestured to a few brawny lumberjacks in flannel shirts and hunter’s caps leaving the restaurant. Apparently acquainted with the men, he ordered them to the front of the Explorer. Their savior tapped the window. Okay, son, one more time, hey? Gun ’er.

The cracked leather of the steering wheel puckered beneath Colton’s palms. Shifting into neutral, he stomped on the gas. Bolstered by the power of the three men, the SUV budged backward onto the wedges and out of the snowbank as easy as you please.

Sighing in relief, Colton pulled his vehicle to the curb and placed it in park. Their rescuers waved and jumped in their work truck while the electrician approached him with a smile.

Colton rolled down his window and held out his hand. Thanks, mister.

Accepting his gesture, the man pulled his hat on his head. No worries, son. Always somebody available to help up here. He looked Colton over from head to toe. You’s ain’t from around here, hey?

What gave us away?

Shoving Colton aside with a glare, David leaned over the console. We’re looking for Silvercap Ski Hill. Are we close?

Yah, as close as you can be without running into it, I s’pose. Go back ’da way you’s came and turn north on Greenbush. You’ll see it on your right. Turn at the stop sign and follow yer way past the dorms and ice rink. Can’t miss it.

Colton nodded. Thanks... Mr. Jorgenson?

The man laughed. Nah, name’s Fred Komen. I’m just an employee. Be real careful, hey? ’Da side roads are slick, and da plows won’t do them ’til last.

Yes, sir, we will. Colton pulled his arm in and closed the window. They waved at Fred as he returned to his van and pulled out of the parking lot onto the main thoroughfare.

That was interesting, Colton gripped the steering wheel tighter. His heart rate had slowed, but he was more than anxious to find their destination and get this over with. Hopefully, this wasn’t a sign of things to come.

Shifting the car into drive, he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel located behind the restaurant. As he turned onto the main road, Siri started in on him once more. Colton scowled. Turn her off, will you? I can’t stand her voice.

Poking him with his pudgy finger, David smirked. Remind you of someone, does it?

Colton’s eyebrows shifted up as he glared at his partner. Why the hell did he have to bring that shit up now? I’m not in the mood, Cross.

David rolled his eyes. "No kidding. Come on, Ramsay, relax. With any luck, we’ll do our interviews and be home by New Year’s Eve. And you are going out this year, my friend. No way you’re staying in and sulking with a six pack and a freaking Fast and Furious marathon."

Colton scoffed. Don’t count on it. My luck, we’ll be here until spring. Secretly, he hoped David was right. This case had been thrown at them last minute, and since he and Cross were on call, they had to take it. But he’d love an open and shut case, quick as you please.

New Year’s was only four days away... not that he had plans. Still, he didn’t want to bring in 2017 with a bunch of strangers.

Not that it mattered. Life couldn’t get much worse.

As he turned the corner and followed the signs for Ashwood College, his stomach clenched. He’d had his fair share of bad holidays over the years, but this had been the crappiest season ever. When had he ever had a good Christmas?

He was fourteen when his dad, a Detroit cop, had been shot and killed by a drug dealer a few weeks before Thanksgiving break. His mom had never fully recovered, drinking herself into a mess of medical problems. And Colton had had no choice but to suck it up and take care of his little sister. He’d even made sure their neighbor, Mrs. Donovan, had Penny’s back after he left for college because he couldn’t trust his mother to take care of her.

Eventually his mom had bounced back and enrolled in AA right after he left for Ann Arbor. But his final choice of major had thrown her off the wagon for good. After everything they’d been through with his dad, his mother couldn’t understand why he wanted to study criminology. She’d tried to guilt him into quitting, but he’d refused to let her win.

Despite what his mother thought, it had nothing to do with his dad’s death. Colton liked the thrill of getting into a perp’s head and solving the crime.

Upon finishing his master’s degree, their relationship had taken a turn for the worst. He wanted to go to the police academy, but his mother threatened to disown him if he applied. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that to his sister.

To top it off, his college sweetheart, Holly Simms, had dumped him after he’d found her sleeping with his best friend. Instead of hanging himself with self-pity, Colton had applied to the FBI Academy at Quantico.

Still throwing a pity party, man.

His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw. What the hell was he thinking, agreeing to take call for the holidays? He’d been in a foul mood since they left Detroit—for good reason.

His mom had been admitted to the hospital three days before Christmas, so Colton and his sister had planned on having a special dinner with her. He’d been looking forward to seeing them, and he couldn’t wait to tell them about a new woman at work he’d just met. He was hoping this news would get his mom off his back about being a thirty-year-old bachelor.

But he never got the chance to mention it. As soon as they began eating, his mother had informed him Holly and Ryan, his ex-roommate, had recently married in a fancy wedding at the Hilton. It was worse than getting kicked in the balls.

To add insult to injury, his mother had quipped he’d lost his chance at marrying a good woman. Without even mentioning his new friend, Colton had left in a huff and spent the rest of his holiday with a six pack and his punching bag. He hadn’t talked to his mother since.

As the image of Holly and Ryan flitted through his mind, he rubbed the edge of his sternum. Acid pumped into his stomach. Nice going, idiot. Why did he have to think about that bitch now? The last thing he needed before going into a case was personal baggage clouding his focus.

After two more blocks and a few more fishtails, they found the parking lot of Ashwood Community College. As old Fred had said, the dorms were located on the west side of the campus.

Colton skirted past a snow-covered field to a four-way crossing, passing the business education building on the left.

David pointed out his window. There it is, Ramsay. The George O’Doul Civic Center.

Turning into the lot, Colton furrowed his brows. Nearly every parking space was filled... if that’s what you called it. People parked wherever they could as there weren’t any visible lines to gauge actual space. Kids of all ages approached the front doors with hockey sticks and duffle bags as families poured toward the entrance of a large convention center.

Must be the ice rink. Looks like game day, David mused.

That’s great, Cross. So where the hell do I park?

The far end of the lot. Over there, Ramsay.

He parked his Explorer in between a rusted-out