Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Trace

T he next day, Trace pushed open the heavy wooden door of his family’s pub, the familiar creak echoing through the cozy, dimly lit interior. The scent of upscale tavern food, wood smoke, and aged whiskey greeted him, wrapping around him like a warm, comforting embrace. The pub had been in his family for generations—starting life as a saloon—and was a staple of Kodiak’s community life. Stepping inside always felt like coming home.

Trace had spent countless hours here as a boy, listening to the stories and gossip of the town’s residents and learning more about Kodiak’s secrets than any police report could ever reveal. It was part of the reason he had come here today. If there was information to be found about the night of the murder that had haunted this town for decades, this was the place to find it.

The pub was only half-full, the lunchtime crowd having thinned out, leaving behind a handful of regulars nursing their drinks and chatting quietly. Trace’s gaze swept the room, landing on a few familiar faces—old timers who had seen everything Kodiak had to offer and then some. If anyone knew something useful, it would be them.

But before he could approach the bar, a blur of movement caught his eye, and a moment later, his niece, Tricia, was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and a determined look on her face.

“Uncle Trace,” she said, her tone half-accusatory, half-amused. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out solving crimes or something?”

Trace couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Tricia was so young, and she was something of a geek—she ran the high school’s newspaper, but she had the tenacity and curiosity of someone much older. She had always been eager to help with his work, despite his repeated protests that she should focus on her studies and leave the police work to him.

“Nah, I’m upper management now. I just sit around drinking coffee and eating donuts.”

Tricia laughed, throwing her arms around him. “You’re my favorite uncle.”

“I’m your only uncle,” he said completing the familiar refrain, ruffling her short, spiky hair affectionately. “Besides, I am solving crimes. I thought I might stop in and ask a few questions. You and I both know the pub’s regulars always have the best insights into what’s going on and what happened in the past.”

Tricia rolled her eyes but grinned. “You mean you’re here to eavesdrop on the town gossip. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Want a burger?”

“You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?” Trace said with a chuckle, before his tone turned more serious. “But really, Tricia, I’m just looking for some background information. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Tricia’s expression softened slightly, but she didn’t back down. “This is about that old cold case, isn’t it?”

Trace nodded. “Carl Hansen.”

“You know I can help, right? I’m good at getting people to talk. You could use that.”

Trace sighed, knowing that once Tricia set her mind on something, she was nearly impossible to dissuade. “I appreciate the offer, but this case is complicated. I don’t want you getting involved in something that could be dangerous.”

“I can handle myself,” she insisted, her eyes narrowing with determination. “I’m not a kid anymore, Uncle Trace. I can do more than you think.”

He looked at her for a long moment, seeing the fire in her eyes that reminded him so much of her mother—his sister. Tricia was headstrong, just like her, and Trace knew that if he didn’t give her something to do, she’d find a way to insert herself into the investigation regardless.

“All right,” he relented, “but only small things. Background checks, research—nothing that puts you in harm’s way. Deal?”

Tricia’s eyes lit up with triumph. “Deal. I’ll get them started on your burger.”

She turned to walk away, presumably to start gathering whatever information she could, but then she paused and looked back at him, her expression thoughtful. “Uncle Trace, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Trace said, though he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Is Annika the reason you’re all broody and distracted?” Tricia asked, her tone teasing but with an underlying note of concern. “I mean, I know you guys have history, but… you’ve been different since she came back.”

Trace tensed, not wanting to delve into the topic, but knowing that Tricia wouldn’t let it go easily. “It’s complicated, Tricia. We had a falling out when I enlisted. She wasn’t exactly supportive of my decision.”

“Is that all?” Tricia asked, clearly unconvinced. “Because from what I remember, there was more to it than that. Mom used to say that Annika’s family didn’t want her to be a cop, and that’s part of why she left.”

Trace felt a pang of guilt at the mention of his sister. She had always been perceptive, often seeing things that he had missed. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had noticed things about Annika’s departure that he hadn’t.

“I didn’t know her family was against it,” Trace admitted, feeling a heaviness settle in his chest. “I just thought she didn’t want to wait for me.”

Tricia shrugged. “Maybe it was both. But it’s been a long time, Uncle Trace. People change, and maybe… I don’t know, maybe there’s still something there between you two.”

Trace sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Tricia. Things are different now. I’m different.”

“Different how?” Tricia asked, her brow furrowing.

“Just different,” he said, his tone leaving no room for further questioning.

Tricia looked like she wanted to press the issue but finally nodded. “Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m here. And don’t forget our deal—I’m helping with the case, whether you like it or not.”

Trace couldn’t help but smile at her stubbornness. “You’re going to be the death of me, Tricia.”

She flashed him a grin before turning and heading off to do whatever it was she had in mind, leaving Trace alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed talking to Tricia, missed the simplicity of family. But now, his thoughts were all tangled up in the past, in Annika, and in the gnawing uncertainty that came with seeing her again.

He sighed and walked over to the bar, nodding to the bartender, who handed him a glass of whiskey without a word. Trace took a sip, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. He needed to focus, to get his head back in the game. There were questions that needed answering, and while his family’s pub was a good place to start, he couldn’t let his personal life get in the way.

But as he listened to the low hum of conversation around him, his thoughts kept drifting back to Annika. What Tricia had said nagged at him. Maybe it hadn’t been just his decision to enlist that had driven them apart. Maybe it had been a combination of things—his choices, her family, their stubbornness. And now, years later, they were both different people, shaped by the lives they had led apart from each other.

But what if there was still something there, something worth exploring? And if there was, how the hell was he supposed to tell her that he wasn’t just the man she used to know, but a dragon-shifter, too?

The thought made his stomach churn, and he took another sip of his drink, trying to push the dilemma out of his mind as he bit into his burger. He had to focus on the case. That was what mattered right now.

Later that day, Trace met up with Annika at the house of the victim’s widow, a modest, well-kept home on the outskirts of town. Greta Hansen had aged gracefully, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun, her sharp eyes betraying the keen intelligence that had helped her navigate life after her husband’s murder. Trace had always admired her resilience, but today, as they sat in her cozy living room, he could see the weariness in her eyes—the toll of living with unanswered questions for so long.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mrs. Hansen,” Annika began, her tone respectful but direct. “We appreciate your willingness to talk about what must be a very difficult subject.”

Greta nodded; her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I’ve lived with this for so long, Detective Connelly. If there’s a chance you can finally find out who did this to my husband, I’m willing to do whatever I can to help.”

Trace watched as Annika gently guided the conversation, asking questions that dug into the business dealings her husband had been involved in before his death. Greta spoke openly, revealing a web of connections that implicated several prominent figures in town—people who had profited from her husband’s demise, or who might have had reasons to want him out of the way.

As the discussion progressed, Trace noticed the way Annika’s demeanor softened, the hard edge that had been present in her voice and mannerisms since her return beginning to fade. It was subtle, but it was there—a reminder of the woman she had been before life had hardened her. He found himself fighting the urge to reach out, to take her hand, to tell her that he still cared, still wanted to protect her, even after all this time.

But he held back, knowing that he had no right to interfere in her life after everything that had—or hadn’t—happened between them. She had moved on, just as he had, and dredging up the past would only complicate things further.

Still, as they left Greta’s house, Trace couldn’t shake the feeling that Tricia might have been right. Maybe the reasons Annika had left were more complex than he had realized. Maybe there was still something between them, something worth fighting for.

But then there was the other problem, the one that gnawed at him day and night—the fact that he wasn’t just a man anymore. He was a dragon-shifter, a creature of myth and legend, and how the hell was he supposed to explain that to her? How could he expect her to understand, let alone accept, something so far beyond the realm of normal?

They drove back into Kodiak in silence, the tension between them thickening with every mile. Trace could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him, the urge to confess, to tell her everything, growing stronger with each passing moment.

But he kept his mouth shut, focusing on the road ahead instead of the woman sitting beside him. When they finally arrived at the cottage Annika rented, he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, turning to face her.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said, more out of a need to prolong their time together than any real concern for her safety.

Annika nodded, her expression unreadable, and they made their way to the entrance in silence. The air was cool, the sky above them darkening as evening settled over the town. Trace could feel the tension between them, a magnetic pull that drew him closer to her, even as he fought to keep his distance.

When they reached her door, Annika turned to face him, her eyes searching his as if looking for something she couldn’t quite find. “Thanks for the ride, Trace,” she said softly, her voice tinged with something that might have been regret.

He nodded, feeling his heart race in his chest. This was it—the moment when he could either say something or do something to bridge the gap between them or let her slip away once more.

But as he leaned in, his face inches from hers, he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. Annika’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she realized what was about to happen. For a moment, they stood there, frozen in place, the tension between them crackling like electricity.

And then, just as suddenly, she pulled back, breaking the spell. “Goodnight, Trace,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before turning and slipping inside the cottage, the door closing softly behind her.

Trace stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been so close, so damn close to telling her everything, to finally bridging the gap that had grown between them over the years.

But the moment was lost, and all he was left with was the echo of her retreating footsteps and the cold, empty feeling in his chest. He turned and walked back to his car, his mind racing with questions, doubts, and the gnawing uncertainty that came with loving someone you weren’t sure you could ever truly be with.

As he drove away, Trace couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just made a mistake, if he had let his fear of rejection, of revealing the truth about who—what—he was, keep him from taking the leap. He had always been a man of action, someone who faced challenges head-on, but when it came to Annika, he found himself hesitating, unsure of the ground beneath his feet.

The case they were working on was heating up, and he knew that they were getting closer to uncovering the truth. But as much as he wanted to focus on the investigation, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the real battle wasn’t with the mystery they were trying to solve, but with the feelings he had buried for so long.

Trace wasn’t sure where things would go from here, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t keep running from the truth. Not with Annika. Not with the investigation. And certainly not with the part of himself he had been hiding for so long.

The past was catching up with him, and he would have to face it head-on, no matter the cost.