“Who were you talking to earlier, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“That’s Carla Edwards, she’s the lead PI at Gone Missing Detective Agency and a retired Portland PD homicide detective.”
“Oh.”
“She’s Michella’s boss. Her agency was crucial in unmasking the Rose City Killer, Desmond Hall.”
“Oh, wow.” I’m embarrassed to say I’m woefully behind on local news. I knew of the serial killer and his capture, but not the details. “I guess she’s a hockey fan?”
“Yes. Michella and Briggs often give her tickets.”
“What case is she working on for you?” I immediately regret my words. I’m being too pushy, which I have a tendency to do, and I really want to keep Gardenia as a friend. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
“I don’t mind talking about it, as long as you promise I won’t be the subject of an article.”
Her words sting somewhat. I’m fully aware of my reputation as a reporter who’ll report anything to get clicks. “I promise.”
“My dad allegedly killed himself. My stepmother took everything, including the life insurance and my college fund because Dad hadn’t bothered with a will.”
“Allegedly?”
“Yes, I’m not convinced. That’s where Carla and Michella come in. I talked with him the day before he died. He’d seen a divorce lawyer that morning as he discovered my stepmom was cheating on him. He sounded hopeful and ready to start a new chapter in his life without her. His biggest concern was his children, and how she’d use them against him.”
“You believe she had something to do with it?” I guess, which isn’t hard to surmise.
“She had an alibi, of course, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t hire someone. They lived in a rural area outside of Portland, and the local sheriff’s office didn’t see a reason to investigate any further.”
“That sucks. Where’s the stepmother now?”
“Not sure, but I heard Florida after she sold everything he owned of value. She threw everything else out before I had an opportunity to stop her.” Gardenia manages a sad smile. “I hope Carla and Michella find time to work on the case soon, but they have other time-sensitive cases that get priority. I’ve waited for years. I can be patient.”
“I’m so sorry.” I’ve never been good at comforting people, but I’m giving it my best shot because Gardenia deserves it. She’s offered friendship when no one else associated with the team would, though I can’t blame them.
Before I can ask any more questions, the team bursts onto the ice for the third period. Gardenia focuses her attention on the puck drop, and I do the same.
The last minute of the third period is a nail-biter. Overtime is beginning to look like a distinct possibility. Every soul in the arena is on their feet. The cheering is deafening. The boys are yelling at the top of their lungs, as is Gardenia. I’m the only person not going wild. I want them to win in the worst way, but I’m a journalist first and strive to maintain some professionalism, though I’m guessing a lot of Icehawks would debate that point.
Gardenia glances over at me curiously. I can only imagine her wondering why I’m so subdued. After all, most consider me nothing more than a hack who writes clickbait and sensationist pieces with a lack of substance. Unfortunately, they’d be right in their assessment. I’d love to find a different job, but well-paying journalist jobs are next to impossible to find. I could become an influencer, but chasing likes and constantly marketing myself doesn’t appeal in the least. I guess I’d rather write gossipy crap.
I won’t be doing this forever. In fact, before my sister died, I made plans to leave All Hockey News, but supporting a young boy changed all that. The truth is I need this job.
I turn my attention back to the game as the clock ticks down. Thirty seconds. Twenty seconds. Ten seconds…
Drakos slams Sullivan into the boards, dislodging the puck. Trent controls it and gallops down the ice. At the last minute, he passes to an open Dash, who doesn’t even pause before sending a laser toward the net. I clap my hands over my mouth and stop breathing. The puck hits the crossbar, takes a wild bounce off the goalie’s shoulder, and goes into the net.
The lamp lights. The goal horn goes off. The entire arena erupts.
This time I don’t hold back.
Chapter 7
Protective
~~Drakos~~
Time stands still as I watch Trent pass the puck to Dash. I race down the ice, knowing I won’t get there in time to assist if needed. Dash immediately shoots, and I swear the puck sails in slow motion toward the net. I hear the clank as it slams into the crossbar before hitting the goalie’s shoulder. Any other time the puck would’ve bounced harmlessly away from the net. Not this time.
Miraculously, it goes in as the clock ticks to zero.
