Cold Silence
Silence, #4
by Freya Barker
Release Date: May 29th 2026
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Single motherhood to two teenage boys turns out to be far more challenging for Tessa Androtti than her brand-new job as detective for the Edwards County Sheriff’s Department. Especially, when the younger of her sons is keeping her up at night. Not only was the move from the big city supposed to give her a chance to build a new life away from lingering memories, but she had hoped it would be a positive change for her youngest, Remi.
However, just when she’s up to her eyeballs working on a recent violent murder, Remi gets himself into trouble again.
Trouble that appears to be connected to her investigation.
Lifetime resident of Silence, Clem Tanek, couldn’t be more surprised to find one of the new, pretty detective’s sons trespassing and stealing property from behind his auto repair shop. Despite his social awkwardness when interacting with the boy’s mother a few months ago, Clem can handle her kid just fine. Remi’s skills and interest in vehicles provide an opportunity to try and get the kid back onto the right track, without involving law enforcement. It also offers Clem a second chance with the new detective, hoping to make up for that disastrous first encounter.
But their path isn’t an easy one. Both have significant baggage, as one would expect from lives already half lived, and adapting to change can be a challenge. Particularly, when dealing with teenagers which, in this case, means wading into dangerous waters for both Tessa and Clem.
AMAZON | APPLE BOOKS | NOOK | KOBO
CHAPTER 1 Tessa “Mo-om! Remi’s been in there for half an hour. I’ve gotta get ready!” I swear, I’m about to start drinking and it’s not even eight in the morning. Love my kids, but they sure wear me down. “Use my bathroom, Linc,” I yell up the stairs. I’m not sure what’s gotten into my youngest boy, Remi, recently. A few months ago, it would’ve been a chore to get him to brush his teeth or, God forbid, have the occasional shower, but lately he’s been spending a lot of time in there. Must be a girl. It was the same for his older brother, Lincoln, who went from looking like Pigpen and reeking like a gym locker most of the time to clean-clothed and smelling fresh. Maybe a little heavy on the Axe, but definitely better than the scent of dirty socks. Remi wasn’t quite that bad, he’s not into sports and athletics like his brother, but I was still relieved when he voluntarily took a shower a few weeks ago without me badgering him. I made the mistake of asking him what had prompted it—forgetting the unspoken parenting rule to never point out the desired behavior—and got my head bitten off in response. Still, I’m focusing on the silver lining. For the first time since puberty hit our house years ago, I can breathe freely again. Offering up what I’ve come to treasure as my personal sanctuary for the sake of peace in the house is a small sacrifice. Maybe now I can have five quiet minutes for my coffee to take effect. Grabbing my mug, I head out the back door to the deck. It’s a little chilly, but the cool air on my skin wakes me up and sharpens my senses. I love this time of day, everything smells fresh and full of promise, and this view is nothing to sneeze at. It’s one of the things that sold me on this house. It’s a much bigger place than we had in Spokane, and for less money, which is always a bonus. This is a quiet neighborhood on the edge of town, with mostly unspoiled nature at our back. I loved the idea of my boys having all this space with direct access to the outdoors. Heck, I’d even hoped it might spark some interest in Remi, who has been struggling to find his niche, but so far he’s persisted in his displeasure to have been forced to move here. I hate to label him as such, but Remi is my worry child. He seems so rudderless compared to his older brother, who has always been so clear in his purpose. Linc is a typical jock, with a focus on athletic performance first, girls a close second, and last, but not least, his grades. Despite some of the family shit that went on in his younger years, before I divorced his father, he seems to skate his way through life. It has to be tough for Remi to grow up in the shadow of his older brother, and I’ve tried to help him find his own light to shine in, but still my baby struggles. “Ma!” I tilt my head back to see my youngest poking his head out of his bedroom window. “I need a ride.” “Why can’t you go with Linc?” Lincoln worked part-time jobs since he turned fifteen, with the sole purpose of saving money to buy his own car. He is now the proud owner of an older Jeep Wrangler, rather beaten up, but running in good order. “He’s picking up Naomi.” Aha. These past few years, my eldest is never without female companionship for long, and once school started last month, it didn’t take more than a week for me to start hearing the name Naomi pop up. Linc has picked her up for school a few times before, and I guess he told his brother to get in the back seat, so Naomi could sit in front beside him. Remi doesn’t like to be a third wheel. I can see both their points, but I don’t have the energy to try and negotiate a compromise this morning. I have a ton of work waiting for me back at the station and can’t afford to be late. Luckily, the high school is just a few blocks from the office. “You’d better hustle, because I’m leaving in—” I quickly check my watch. “Three minutes.” Once we are on our way into town, I look over at Remi, who is slumped in the passenger seat beside me, his head turned to the side window in a clear attempt to avoid any and all conversation. I’m his mom, so fat chance of that. “Bud, happy as I am you’re spending more time in the bathroom, you’ve gotta leave time for your brother to get ready.” A snort is my only answer. “Hey,” I voice a little sharper. “Don’t give me attitude when I’m doing you a favor by dropping you off at school. All I’m asking is for you to be considerate, that’s all.” “Yeah, whatever.” I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to react to his disengaged response. I swear I can feel another gray hair sprouting every damn time we have one of these interactions. Pushing him is only going to ramp up the tension in my vehicle, so I opt to let it go. Raising teenagers is like walking a minefield on a day-to-day basis. I feel a little guilty at the relieved breath escaping me a few minutes later, when he darts out the passenger side door without a word, the moment I stop in front of his school. Despite the coffee I had at home, I already feel like I need a damn nap. It’s been another restless night, constant worry about Remi keeping me awake, so the moment I walk into the station, I make a beeline for the dark sludge passing for coffee in the kitchen. It doesn’t taste great, but it sure packs the kind of punch I need this morning. Brenda, the sheriff department’s office manager, is just coming out. “Mornin’,” she returns my mumbled greeting as she cocks her thumb over her shoulder. “Fresh pot in there.” “Bless your heart.” I slip past her and inhale the fumes as I grab one of the department mugs off the shelf and fill it. I take my first sip before I turn around to find Brenda leaning against the doorway, her head tilted to one side as she scrutinizes me. “Tough morning?” Instantly my hand goes to my hair, which is already escaping the messy knot I turned it into after my shower. “Is it that obvious?” She grins. “You forget, I’ve got a couple of boys too. I recognize the look of exasperation on your face. Pretty sure I’ve worn that same expression from time to time.” That’s right, I knew she had boys. I’ve been preoccupied getting us settled in, the boys ready for school, and myself up to speed at work, I haven’t really had the time to connect with people on a more personal level. Maybe that’s what I need for a better balance in my life. “Exasperation, huh? Guess that describes my state pretty accurately this morning,” I return. “Any tips or suggestions are welcome; maybe over drinks some time?” “Friday night my husband is taking the boys to Spokane to see the new Marvel movie on the big screen. Why don’t you pop by? I’ve got a fully stocked bar,” she adds with a wink. “Sounds tempting,” I admit. “Let me check in with my hoodlums to see what they have going on that night.” “Yeah, of course. See if it works.” She starts walking away before she stops and turns. “Oh, before I forget, I sent a copy of the forensics report you were waiting for to your email. It must’ve come in late last night.” Finally. About two weeks ago, a local hunter stumbled on to what looked to be a brand-new Ford Mustang abandoned on one of the old logging roads heading up Black Mountain. The vehicle had been deliberately covered with brush—clearly intended to hide it from view. When the hunter peered inside the window and noticed the passenger seat covered in blood, he immediately contacted us. Judging from the sheer volume of blood, it looked like someone bled out in that vehicle, but we found no evidence of a body, just a few smeared prints on the inside of the door. A VIN search on the Mustang came back to a stolen vehicle from the upscale Spokane neighborhood of Rockwood. A blood test confirmed the blood to be human, but who it might have belonged to, as well as the whereabouts of the victim, has remained a mystery. Hoping the forensics report will give me some guidance on this damn case I’ve been spinning my wheels on these past weeks, I rush to my desk. Clem “Go home, Kyle. I’ll finish it up.” As glad as I am the new, young mechanic I hired on after reopening the garage does not seem averse to working longer hours, it’s already been a long-ass day and I’m fucking starving. “You sure?” the scrawny, redheaded kid asks, poking his head out from under the hood of the Infinity he’s working on. “Yep. Get out of here, it’s Friday night. I’ll see you in the morning.” Tomorrow will be a busy day, but Manuel should be back, so there will be three of us to tackle the work. Manuel had a rare few days off to visit his ailing mother. One of only a few times he asked for time off since he started working for me over ten years ago. Anyway, we’ll be at full strength tomorrow and should hopefully be able to clear out the back lot before next week. I follow Kyle to the front and lower the massive bay door behind him, locking myself in for the night. When fire leveled the old auto shop—which had been in the family for generations—I wasn’t sure I’d have the heart or drive to rebuild Main Street Mechanics from the ground up. It would’ve taken a year at least, during which time I wouldn’t have had an income, and I’d likely have lost most of my customers in the interim. Aside from that, the business had already outgrown the shop, and there wasn’t a large enough real estate footprint to build anything bigger. Repurposing the old fire hall had been at the suggestion of Hugo Alexander, Edwards County Deputy Sheriff, who is a buddy of mine. The place had sat vacant since they built the new large fire station on the outskirts of Silence. It had taken a bit of negotiating and working out a bit of creative financing, but I was able to buy it and set up shop here. Turning the lights off in the shop—I’ll come back down later to finish replacing the hoses on that Infinity—I head up the open stairway to the second level and aim straight for the spacious open kitchen and the cold beer in my fridge. Originally, the upper level had housed the living and sleeping quarters for the fire crew but, with some minor renovations, I’d turned it into a comfortable apartment for myself. The insurance check I’d received for the old place hadn’t been enough to cover the cost of the fire hall, so I ended up selling the small house I’d called home for fifteen or so years to make up the difference. I didn’t really have any emotional connection to the house anyway. The shop was my home and I spent the bulk of my time there, but it had been somewhere to lay my head at night. With the extra money I was able to make a few adjustments to this upper floor, and already it feels more like a home than the house ever did. Although I suspect the smell of motor oil that follows me up here has a little something to do with that. Along with a beer, I pull a block of cheese from the fridge, cutting off a chunk to tide me over until I can get some dinner together. I’m thinking I’ll cut up some vegetables and a couple of those spicy sausages I picked up, and toss them on a baking tray in the oven. They can cook while I drink my beer and watch the news. I’ve been trying to watch what I eat. I never took the time to cook much before, just popped a frozen dinner in the microwave or stopped in at the diner for something greasy. It showed in the gut I’d been steadily growing since I hit my forties. Then right after the fire, I went in to see the new doc for a checkup. The guy warned me that with my high cholesterol and blood pressure, I was heading for a heart attack unless I started living healthier. Seeing as my father dropped dead from a heart attack when he was just a few years older, I took the warning and made some adjustments. A lot has changed this past year, and though I’m not normally a fan of changes, I feel I’ve landed in a pretty good place. My business is steady, my health is better, I’ve got my friends, my Thursday night poker game, and a kick-ass place that feels like a home to put my feet up in at the end of the day. What else do you need? After finishing up the dishes forty-five minutes later, I briefly consider leaving the Infinity until the morning, but end up heading back downstairs anyway. The moment I flick on the bright overhead lights in the garage, I hear some noise out back. A metallic clang, like something bumping the lid of the garbage container out there. Maybe I startled something rummaging through the trash, it wouldn’t be the first time. It’s not unheard of for wildlife to venture into town, looking for an easy meal at this time of year. Grabbing a large wrench from the tool bench—I’m not about to potentially face off with a hungry bear empty-handed—I head toward the regular back exit next to the large bay door. Unlocking it, I ease it open, poking my head out. At first, I don’t see anything. Nothing seems out of place in the back lot where we park vehicles still to be worked on and those waiting for owners to pick them up. In the light escaping from the glass panes at the top of the large rolling door, I spot no bears, or any other creatures for that matter, hanging out by the dumpster. But when I step outside, letting the door fall shut behind me, I can hear the sound of something scraping the gravel surface to my left. Swinging my head around, I just catch a glimpse of a red sneaker disappearing under the frame of the Jeep Patriot Tim Saunders dropped off for an oil change and fluid top-up earlier this afternoon. I slip my hand in my pocket to pull out my cell phone and turn on its flashlight as I duck down, shining it under the vehicle. “Get your ass out from under there,” I bark at the wide-eyed teenager looking back at me. “Trust me, kid, you don’t want my fucking help.” Wisely, the boy crawls out and scrambles to his feet. It takes me only a second to realize who it is. Well, shit. Then I quickly scan the Jeep, noticing a hack saw as well as a familiar part lying on the ground beside the vehicle. “Really, kid? Surely you can find better things to do than pulling catalytic converters from vehicles a stone’s throw away from the sheriff’s station.” “I wasn’t…I didn’t…” the punk stammers before snapping his mouth shut. He realizes there is no denying with the evidence basically lying at his feet. I can see his eyes dart left and right, looking for the fastest escape route. “I’m thinking your mom won’t be too pleased when I call it in.” His mother being the sheriff office’s most recent addition, Tessa Androtti. I recognize her boy from a cookout at Bess and Hugo’s place they were at, toward the end of the summer. “Please don’t,” the kid pleads, and in that moment, I see the vulnerable boy instead of the criminal teenager. Fuck. Those big puppy dog eyes are getting to me, making me feel like a goddamn monster for even considering turning him in. “How many?” I snap at him. “What do you mean?” he returns, looking confused. “Catalytic converters. How many did you drop?” He indicates a white Ford F-150 a few spots down. “That one too,” he admits. Dammit. It’ll take up valuable time to install each of those again, adding to an already full workload for tomorrow. “Do you know how much work it’s gonna be to fix those?” It’s more of a rhetorical question, I don’t actually expect an answer, but the kid gives me one anyway. “With the right tools, probably a couple of hours each.” I regard him with a lifted eyebrow. “And you would know what the right tools are?” This time he shrugs. “It’s not that hard.” There’s something about his casual arrogance that reminds me of myself, thirty years ago. I decide to call his bluff. “Well, in that case, I want your ass back here tomorrow morning at eight on the dot, and you can put your money where your mouth is.” Now he looks shocked. “You mean, I can go?” I wag a finger in his face. “But if you’re not here at eight, I will personally walk over to the sheriff’s station and file charges. Right after I have a nice long talk with your mother,” I threaten. As I watch the kid take off on his red sneakers, I realize this may not have been the wisest move on my part. But the boy doesn’t strike me as a hardcore criminal. If I’d venture a guess, he’s—at worst—a misguided kid who is heading down the wrong path. I was that kid once, before my dad put me to work in the shop. Who knows, maybe a little redirection of that energy, and some honing of what appears to be a passing interest in cars, will set the boy on the straight and narrow. I’m just not sure how his mother will respond when she finds out. I don’t think she likes me much.
My Review of COLD SILENCE #4 . . . HERE
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