But she didn’t need that any longer. She no longer needed work or cases or the perception she was number one from an external source. She still intended to strive for it, but she no longer needed it. And as she held Gavin close, murmuring over and over how much she loved him, Sera realized that made all the difference.
The things that had made up her days were important. Justice for the people of the city she loved would always matter.
But the life she and Gavin would make for themselves and their child?
Well, that was everything.
Dear Reader,
I shared these thoughts in the first book of this series, Danger in the Depths, but do feel it bears repeating.
While there is an expert team as part of the NYPD who manage all the police work of the harbor and the surrounding waters of New York City, their day-to-day activities are not widely publicized, nor is there much information available about them.
This series is born of my deep respect for what these brave men and women do, with representation of them and their duties coming from my own imagination. Any errors are my own.
Addison Fox
Keep reading for an excerpt from Cold Case Secrets by Kimberly Van Meter.
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Cold Case Secrets
by Kimberly Van Meter
Chapter 1
Sixteen years ago, the bruised body of Echo Flying Owl Jones, a young Macawi girl, was found partially submerged on a frigid creek bed near the Macawi Reservation in Montana.
There were no suspects, no leads, and her case was closed but, according to her aunt, never solved.
Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin aimed to change all that.
Funny thing about change, though.
Sometimes change is ushered in on a whisper, other times, a roar—and for Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin, the youngest of the Griffin sisters, a cacophony.
In the space of a year, an intruder killed her adoptive father in her childhood home, her sister Kenna narrowly escaped a psychopathic ex and her other sister, Luna, lost a best friend but found the love of her life.
And while all that was going on, Sayeh faced an Internal Affairs investigation within her department in the FBI Narcotics division and left the Bureau to take the new position on the Cold Case Task Force within the Justice Department of the BIA.
An ordinary person would probably need a long vacation, but Sayeh had never been ordinary and wasn’t about to start now.
“Change is good. Change is good. Change is good,” Sayeh repeated as she walked the hallway to the briefing room in the office for the Bureau of Indian Affairs located in Billings, Montana.
She’d never been known as a “people person,” and starting fresh with her particular personality was a daunting prospect.
She paused, took a deep breath, lifted her chin and walked into the briefing room to meet her new team.
The task force was created due to public pressure to address the growing outrage of Indigenous people, mostly women, being victimized without consequence. The Powers That Be decided cold cases were the best use of available funds and made for good headlines if resolved. Sayeh’s cynical nature saw right through the thin machinations of the PR machine at work, but if playing the game made progress happen, she’d suit up. Rusted wheels often turned with stops and starts and it took a while to get the grease.
Each member had a vested interest in seeing the task force succeed, but they were already briefed privately on what was expected of them going forward. Funding was tight, and resources were always at a premium, so failure to achieve discernible results was not an option. But Sayeh was coming to the table with a cold case worth cracking open.
At first glance, Sayeh saw their task force superior Isaac Berrigan, two Indigenous women and a broad-shouldered white man with a shock of dark hair and a set of brilliant blue eyes, which immediately took her aback.
Given the sensitive cultural nature of the cases involved, she’d assumed the task force would comprise all Indigenous people.
Don’t judge a book by its cover. She didn’t look as Native as her sisters with her dirty blond hair and blue eyes, while the other girls were olive complected with dark eyes. Sayeh’s nickname had been “Yellow Hair” for the longest time because her hair turned golden in the summer, but her blood still ran with the Macawi heritage.
Isaac got straight to business. “Introduce yourselves, you’re about to spend a lot of time together. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot of eyes on this task force right now given the current political climate. I can’t say I’m not glad that the issue is finally getting the attention it deserves, but it’s going to make our jobs that much harder. I don’t want to sugarcoat it for you. It’s going to be a hard road but hopefully, worth it.”
There was no time like the present to set expectations, so let’s get it going. Sayeh boldly took the lead, impatient to get started. “I’m Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin, Macawi Reservation but I was raised in Cottonwood, pleased to meet you,” she said, taking a seat.
A woman with long dark hair and dark eyes nodded, introducing herself, “Dakota Foster, Flathead Reservation,” and the other woman, a caramel brunette with amber eyes, followed with, “Shilah Parker, Turtle Mountain.”
And then all eyes swiveled in question to the other man seated. He compressed his lips—no getting around that elephant—introducing himself, “Levi Wyatt. No Native blood but I grew up on a ranch close to the Blackfeet Reservation and my respect for the people runs deep. Happy to be part of the team.”
Sayeh drew a deep breath, trying to shift against the immediate discomfort that having a white man on a BIA task force created for her. It was all well and good to have “respect” for the people, but he couldn’t possibly understand the issues the Indigenous people faced.
