Page 11 of His Relentless Mate

Trace set the notebook down on his desk, feeling a mix of pride and concern for his niece. She had done excellent work, but the implications of what she had uncovered were serious. “I’ll follow up on this. But I need you to promise me something—stay out of the line of fire. Let me and the team handle the rest. I don’t want you getting caught up in something dangerous.”

Tricia’s expression softened, and she gave him a small, understanding smile. “I promise, Uncle Trace. But if you need anything else, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Tricia,” Trace said, giving her a grateful nod. “I appreciate it.”

After she left, Trace sat back down at his desk, his mind whirling with the new information. A second family meant that Carl Hansen’s life was even more complex than they had realized, and it opened up a whole new set of questions about who might have had a motive to kill him. He would have to dig deeper into Hansen’s connections, especially with the mayor and the victim’s business partner, to see if this secret life had played a role in his murder.

But before he could pursue that angle further, he knew he had to confront the mayor again. With renewed determination, Trace grabbed his jacket and headed out of the station, making his way to the mayor’s office.

The mayor’s office was located in a somewhat nondescript building that spoke to the practicality of those who lived and worked in Kodiak. As Trace walked through the double doors, the receptionist greeted him with a polite smile, but he could sense the tension in the air.

“I need to speak with Mayor Olson,” Trace said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The receptionist hesitated for a moment before nodding. “She’s in a meeting, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Trace waited, his mind running through the questions he needed to ask, the pressure points he needed to hit. The mayor had been cagey during their previous conversation, deflecting his inquiries with practiced ease. This time, he wouldn’t let her off the hook so easily.

After a few minutes, the receptionist returned and gestured for him to follow her. She led him down a hallway lined with portraits of past mayors, their stern faces watching him as he passed. When they reached the end of the hall, she opened the door to a spacious office, where Mayor Helen Olson sat behind a large oak desk.

“Chief Gallagher,” she said, rising to greet him. Her smile was warm, but there was a wariness in her eyes that Trace didn’t miss. She gestured to him to have a seat as she sat down behind her desk. “What can I do for you?”

“I have some follow-up questions about Carl Hansen’s murder,” Trace said, keeping his tone neutral as he took a seat across from her.

The mayor’s smile faltered slightly, and she clasped her hands together on the desk. “Of course. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

Trace leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “I’ve been looking into Hansen’s business dealings, specifically his business partner’s connection with your office. I’ve also come across some information suggesting that Hansen had a second family in Anchorage. Can you tell me anything about that?”

The mayor’s reaction was subtle but telling. Her eyes widened just a fraction before she quickly composed herself, her expression guarded. “I wasn’t aware of any second family. As for his business dealings, I’ve already told you everything I know.”

Trace didn’t believe her for a second. “Mayor Olson, this investigation is getting more complex by the day. If there’s anything you’re not telling me, now’s the time to come clean. The last thing we need is for this to blow up in a way that damages the town—or your reputation.”

The mayor’s jaw tightened, and she averted her gaze for a moment, as if weighing her options. Finally, she sighed and met his eyes again. “Look, Chief, Carl Hansen was a complicated man. He had his secrets, just like everyone else in this town. But I assure you, I had no involvement in whatever he was mixed up in. My only concern was—and still is—the well-being of this community.”

Trace could hear the truth in her voice, but he also sensed that she was holding something back. “I understand your position, Mayor, but I need you to be straight with me. If there’s anything—anything at all—that could help us solve this case, I need to know.”

For a moment, the mayor remained silent, her expression conflicted. Then she leaned back in her chair, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her office had finally caught up with her. “There were rumors, Chief. Rumors that Carl was involved in some… questionable business practices. But nothing was ever proven, and I didn’t think it was my place to investigate further. I didn’t want to start a witch hunt based on hearsay. The man had been murdered. Whatever he’d done, I thought he had paid the ultimate price and that his family deserved some peace.”

“What kind of business practices?” Trace pressed, sensing that he was finally getting somewhere.

The mayor hesitated again, then spoke in a low voice. “There were whispers that Carl was involved in money laundering, using his legitimate businesses as a front. I don’t have any concrete evidence, but if those rumors are true, it could explain a lot about his connections—and his enemies. It could also trigger a seizure of his assets. Greta Hansen didn’t, and still doesn’t, deserve that.”

Trace absorbed the information, his mind already working through the implications. If Hansen had been laundering money, it could have made him a target for any number of people—business rivals, law enforcement, criminal elements, or even someone close to him who felt betrayed.

“Thank you, Mayor,” Trace said, standing up. “I appreciate your honesty. We’ll be following up on this lead, but I’ll keep you informed if anything significant comes up.”

The mayor nodded, her expression one of relief mixed with lingering concern. “I hope I can depend on your discretion and sensitivity. I just want what’s best for this town, Chief. I hope you can find the truth without tearing us apart.”

Trace nodded in return, though he knew that the truth, once uncovered, often had a way of doing just that.

That evening, Trace found himself at The Cove, a secluded beach on the outskirts of town that he and Annika had frequented in their youth. It was still a popular spot with the younger crowd as it provided some seclusion and a kind of privacy that could be severely lacking in a small town. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the water, and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was both soothing and nostalgic.

Annika stood a few feet away, her back to him as she gazed out at the horizon. Trace watched her for a moment, the memories of their time together here flooding back—how they used to come here to escape the pressures of life, to talk, to dream, to be themselves without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

It was strange, being here now, with so much history between them, and yet so much left unsaid. Trace could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a thick fog.

He walked over to her, stopping just behind her, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her presence. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been here,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.

Annika turned to face him, her expression softening as she looked up at him. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

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