Chapter One
Jude
Starting a new job is always hard, but when you have to do it because you disgrace yourself at your last one, it’s twice as gut-wrenching.
By some miracle, I’m not fired. Internal Affairs has closed the investigation into how I handled Marcus Dougherty the night of the robbery four weeks earlier. The findings are brief. No violation of policy. Discretion consistent with department guidelines. No disciplinary action recommended.
But being cleared doesn’t bring relief. The looks and the whispering behind my back are too much to take. I resign from Atlanta PD and take a job with Golden Peak PD in Montana instead. I need distance. A fresh start.
So here I am, about to start my new life with a new department in a new state.
I squint through the windshield. The snow picks up as I cross the Golden Peak town line, my headlights catching the flakes in their beam.
A weathered WELCOME TO GOLDEN PEAK, POPULATION 4,217 sign greets me, but my wolf stirs restlessly, unsettled by the new territory and the unfamiliar scent of other wolves.
“Home sweet home,” I mutter. It’s going to be a real adjustment going from a big city police department to this little rinky-dink town. But change is what I wanted, and that’s what I’m going to get.
The town spreads out below me as I descend the mountain road, streets laid out in neat grids until the terrain gets too steep and they start to wind and meander.
Old brick buildings line Main Street, their windows glowing warm against the darkness.
It’s after 11:00 p.m., but even at this hour, one of the local pubs has a few trucks parked outside, and the drugstore’s neon sign buzzes faintly.
The marquee of the art deco movie theater advertises weekend matinees and a Tuesday classic film series.
A plow truck works its way down the opposite side of Main, orange light creating weird shadows on the fresh snow.
My wolf catches the scents of at least three different packs as we pass through downtown – territory markers subtle but clear, old boundaries marked and remarked over decades.
Unlike the aggressive scent-marking back in Atlanta, these carry a sense of routine, of established order.
I pass a sprawling Craftsman-style house converted into what looks like a bookstore, a row of small shops with hand-painted signs, and a diner where the lights are still on, a few people visible through the steamy windows.
The streets branch off the main drag at regular intervals, residential areas a mix of apartments and smaller bungalows with front porches and snow-covered gardens.
My GPS tells me to turn right onto Cedar Lane.
The street is lined with massive old trees, their branches creating a canopy that’s probably gorgeous in summer but now just looks skeletal against the gray sky.
Most of the houses here have been converted to apartments or offices.
There’s a dentist, an accountant, a massage therapist, and another pub called The Fox & The Kettle.
I’m relieved when I see my destination on the left.
The Blue Pine Apartments sit halfway down the block.
My temporary home is a converted Victorian mansion, painted a faded blue with white trim, now split into eight units.
I’m praying the walls aren’t too thin. I haven’t lived in an apartment since college, and I’m not thrilled at the prospect.
I park my SUV in the small parking lot and grab my duffel from the passenger seat.
The rest of my things can wait. I’m way too tired to unload everything after such a long drive, and frankly I don’t care if someone decides to steal all my worldly possessions.
I’m not that attached to them. Truth be told, I’m not very attached to anything these days. I’ve made a conscious effort not to be.
I make my way to what appears to be the office.
The front door opens with a creak, revealing a foyer with dark wooden wainscoting and a brass mail station.
The whole place smells of old wood and furniture polish, with undertones of various tenants’ scents—definitely wolves, I note, though there are plenty of humans in the mix.
“Can I help you?” In the foyer, a woman rises from a chair behind the counter. She’s human, probably in her late sixties, with her silver hair cut short.
“Uh, yeah, I’m Jude Collins.” I drop my duffel bag at my feet and tug my wallet out of my back pocket.
She checks my ID like she suspects I’m lying about who I am. Do people really try to sneak into this ancient relic of an apartment building? I find that hard to believe, but it takes all kinds to make the world keep spinning.
Once she’s satisfied I’m who I say I am, she starts typing on her computer.
“I’m Eleanor Whitaker, but everyone calls me Ellie.
You’re later than I was expecting. I wouldn’t usually be in the office this late, but I wanted to personally welcome you to Golden Peak.
I imagine you’re late on account of the horrible weather?
” She looks up and meets my gaze, and her eyes are a startling blue.
“Yep. The snow was coming down hard the last hour. I figured it was more important to not fly off the side of the mountain rather than rush to get here.”
She nods as if she approves and goes back to typing. She taps on the keyboard so long I start to wonder if maybe she’s writing a novel. Eventually, she hands me a set of keys, explaining they’re color-coded. “Blue for the front lobby door, silver for your apartment, gold for the basement laundry.”
“You have to lock the laundry room?” I frown.
“We surely do. Every now and then we get a drunk who likes to sleep in there. They walk down from The Fox & The Kettle. In weather like this, a laundry room is as good as a five star hotel.” She cackles.
“I suppose that’s true.”
“You’re in 2C, top of the stairs and to the right. I’ll show you the way in just a sec. Oh, by the way, when you turn on the heat, don’t let the radiator scare you off. It clanks something awful at first, but it works just fine.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“And the water pressure’s decent for such an old building.” She grimaces. “Except when everyone decides to do their laundry on the same day.” She winks. “Word of warning, don’t take a shower on a Sunday morning unless you’re fond of ice baths. That seems to be their favorite laundry day.”
I smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, follow me.” She grunts as she hobbles around the counter.
Not wanting to inconvenience her, I say, “You don’t have to show me. I can find it.”
“Nah, I need the exercise. What do they say? ‘Motion is lotion’ for the joints.”
I laugh. “Is that what they say?”
“Oh, yeah. Especially at my age. I’m a few years away from being a mummy.” She gives another cackle.
I follow her up to my apartment, noticing everything looks tidy and well taken care of.
“I’m usually in my office early in the morning. If you need anything just call down,” she says. “Most of the other tenants are pretty quiet. Though 2A, that’s Mark Reeves, plays his guitar after midnight sometimes. Mostly classical stuff so it shouldn’t bother you too much.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She stops in front of 2C. “You had a long drive. If you’re hungry there aren’t many places open right now, but The Fox & The Kettle up the road is open until midnight. They serve food until closing time. They do a good burger.”
“I might check them out.” I haven’t eaten since breakfast so the option of food does appeal. I could also use a beer to help relax my jangling nerves. It’s been ages since I started a new job and I’m feeling a lot of pressure.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it.” She smiles.
“Thanks.” I slip the key in the door and enter my apartment.
It’s bigger than I expected. It has an open plan with high ceilings and windows that probably have a view when it’s not dark outside.
The furniture is dated but solid, dark woods and worn fabric.
I try not to compare it to my cozy little house back in Atlanta. That’s the past.
I’ll have to try not to compare my new department to Atlanta either.
It might not be easy though because Golden Peak is nothing like Atlanta.
The police department here has maybe twenty officers total.
I’m used to working in a bustling city environment.
This place will take some getting used to, but my plan is to keep my head down and do my job.
I’m not the most sociable person to begin with.
Even as a kid, I struggled to fit in with wolves and humans.
Although, I really had tried to make friends when I’d moved to Atlanta.
But despite the effort I’d failed to connect well with the people I’d worked with.
Then after David Kim’s murder, I finally accepted that I’m happiest on my own.
Neither wolves nor humans can be trusted to be loyal.
While I’m in Golden Peak, I won’t try to engage with anyone on a personal level. I’m here to work and that’s it.
Once I’ve checked out the apartment, I decide maybe I will move the rest of my things from the car into the apartment.
Tomorrow I start my new job bright and early, so it’s best to get organized now.
I didn’t bring much with me. I sold off all my furniture and electronics.
The only things I brought were some books, clothes, and one old photo album.
I have no family left. My parents died long ago. I don’t keep the photos because I miss my mom or dad. I don’t miss them. Not at all. Any memories stirred by the pictures aren’t pleasant ones. But the photos are a record of my life. My past. Good or bad, those memories and pictures are mine.