The Right Road: Adam Norcross Mysteries, #2

The Right Road

Adam Norcross Mysteries, Volume 2

Yvonne Rediger

Published by Brown Wolf Publishing, 2025.

Also by Yvonne Rediger

Adam Norcross Mysteries

The Wrong Words

The Right Road (Coming Soon)

Musgrave Landing Mysteries

Death and Cupcakes

Fun With Funerals

Condo Crazy

Storm Stayed

VIC Shapeshifters

Into the Wood

The Shape of Us

Hell Cat

Trusting the Wolf

Standalone

The Common Touch

Diving In Heart First

Watch for more at Yvonne Rediger’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Also By Yvonne Rediger

The Right Road (Adam Norcross Mysteries, #2)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

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Further Reading: The Wrong Words

Also By Yvonne Rediger

−The Right Road, nominated for the Saskatchewan Books Awards 2024

Just as good or better than the first book

First of all, really well done. I loved the story. The call backs to the last book, the character interactions and the mystery. All is really well woven together and entertaining. The author had my back brain jumping from suspect to suspect several times before settling on who done it.

−Ivy Blackwood

Copyright © 2023 by Yvonne Rediger

Cover Design by Shelley Havelange

All cover art copyright © 2025

All Rights Reserved

Print ISBN:  978-1-998725-02-1

eBook ISBN:  978-1-998725-03-8

First Publication:  April 2023

Second Publication: March 2025

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. The publisher does not have any control over or assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.

Published by Brown Wolf Publishing

Saskatchewan, Canada

Dedication

Thank you to the Saskatchewan Archaeology Society and the

Preeceville & District Heritage Museum.

One shovel full of dirt can change history.

Chapter One

Adam Norcross did not break his stride as the twenty-five story glass and concrete building came into view. He could not allow himself the luxury. If he did, he’d just walk away. Not that it would change anything.

Instead, Adam briskly moved through the frosted glass front doors of Biggerman, Case, and Abernathy Law Offices. He paused to collapse his black umbrella as the revolving door slowed behind him to a stop. This gave him a chance to look around the foyer, more from habit than from need. Stop stalling, get it done.

Resolutely, Adam lifted his head. He'd been spotted by the receptionist so he moved forward. His encrypted mobile phone buzzed as he crossed the tiled floor to the plush carpeted area.

Adam mouth twisted in annoyance, he paused again and plucked the device out of his inside coat pocket. He glanced at the display.

He declined the call from Walter Shapiro feeling a bit reckless, if completely justified. His boss was increasingly impinging on Adam’s off hours. Granted, sometimes the calls were necessary as they were emergency in nature. Still, he could not shake the feeling Shapiro was leaning on him a bit too frequently.

Added to that, Adam also wasn’t ready to take a tongue-lashing about his involvement in the latest situation in Libya.

Zara Dare had said she thought it was her good luck Adam was already in Tripoli dealing with the mess a Canadian engineering company had got themselves into. She’d gotten the call from her MI6 boss about the terrorist hijacking of an inbound flight with little time to plan. Zara decided it was more efficient to tap someone who had the experience she needed instead of improvising and Norcross had agreed.

Violence and threats had to be dealt with seriously. When a sister agency asked for help, of course Norcross would give it.

Five terrorists were onboard a Lufthansa flight. They’d wanted Qasr bin Ghashir, the active airport, but Adam convinced Zara to reroute to the closed Tripoli facility to limit causalities.

She got a message to the pilot and Adam’s idea had worked. Events proceeded swiftly once the plane was on the ground. In any event, they’d sent the tearfully grateful group of passengers to Frankfurt after Zara had done the initial sniff test, screening the passengers and crew. At least this Airbus would arrive at its scheduled destination. Libyan authorities had already dealt with what was left of the hijackers.

In Adam’s mind, there was no such thing as happenstance. Still he’d taken the opportunity to off load a bunch of whinging executives into the hands of his junior associate, Benny Mufisso. His apprentice was more than up to the challenge of extracting the CINS Engineering people. Besides, the negotiations were complete. All Mufisso had left to do was a bit of clerical mopping up.

Being the team on the ground, they all agreed the hijacking was the more important crisis. However Norcross was not confident Shapiro would agree with that assessment.

To avoid any further interruptions, Adam changed the mobile device to ‘airplane’ mode with a swipe of his thumb. With that, some of his tension dissolved.

He’d delayed handling this legal task for many months. He was not proud of his procrastination. A failing Adam determined he needed to work on. Do not delay personal business or postpone things that needed to be done...or said, no matter what crisis he was tasked with.

After this meeting, he had plans to fix the latter.

With his phone once again tucked away in his inside suit pocket, Adam walked forward again. It was past time he dealt with the final details of his late mother's estate, but he didn’t have to like it.

His black leather wingtips sank into the immaculate navy-blue carpeting. He noted the light scent of expensive perfume as he approached the glossy redwood reception desk.

Good morning, sir, how may I help?  The sleekly groomed receptionist asked. She was mid-twenties, extremely trim, with ash blonde hair dramatically swept into an updo. The neckline of her pale blue dress was conservative, yet feminine. Her blue eyes, outlined with heavy black makeup, scanned his face and his tailored grey suit. Appreciation warmed her expression and she flashed him a smile like he’d passed some kind of test.

Adam Norcross, I have a ten o’clock with Wu Abernathy.  He managed to keep the impatience he felt out of his tone. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault, least of all the receptionist’s he found the idea of hearing his mother's will read totally repugnant. He just needed the deed done. Once completed, this chore was one more ‘to-do’ item to cross off the list from last December. He’d left this second most difficult chore for near to the last. Rationally he knew delaying would not change reality, still, dealing with this type of thing made his chest tighten.

Then there were the people he had to deal with. As a rule Adam did not like lawyers, too many of them became politicians. Politicians were forever causing him problems. He reasoned this might be another excuse, but discarded the idea almost immediately.

Of course, Mr. Norcross. One moment, please.  She glanced to her left. No doubt where the list of client appointments was kept and quickly found his name. Smoothly, she rose from her desk. This way please. May I take your coat?

No, thank you.  He flashed her a quick smile.

She nodded like this was nothing unusual and escorted him to a separate elevator along the back wall behind her desk. Not to one of the six stainless-steel lifts grouped together on the right. A heavy redwood door slid soundlessly open at her touch to a discreet panel.

Geeta will greet you and take you to your meeting room.  She produced a proximity card and touched it against the reader, depressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor, and then retreated.

Adam boarded the car and the door slid closed on the reception’s lithe form as she returned to her seat.

Seconds later the mirrored doors slid open and as promised, Geeta waited for him. This woman was more formally dressed in a tailored cream suit, a perfect foil for her bronze skin and ebony-black hair, subdued into a tight bun on the back of her head. She wore no makeup to soften her angular features. Her no nonsense expression reminded Adam fleetingly of Beth Leith.

Mr. Norcross, I'm Geeta.  She nodded to him. Please follow me. The Arbutus conference room is ready for your meeting.  Geeta led the way past numerous offices and alcoves down a wide hallway. Please have a seat. Mr. Abernathy will join you momentarily.  She offered water and coffee, which he politely turned down and she left him.

The room was comprised of glass walls along the hallway and Norcross turned his back to them. He propped his umbrella against the wall and shrugged out of his damp overcoat. Directly across from the oval dark oak conference table, was a row of floor to ceiling windows. These offered a magnificent view of Victoria Harbour.

Adam folded his coat over the back of one swivel chair and hooked the wooden handle of the umbrella on top. This umbrella was a new one he’d bought in London, along with the black trench coat and suit before flying back to Vancouver. He felt he needed to wear something more respectful for the will reading. The suit was bespoke and he was sure his mother would have approved.

Zara had not stopped to shop. The MI6 operative had proceeded straight to her connecting flight which took her back to her husband and daughter.

Adam felt a twinge of envy over his friend’s eagerness to return home. It had been years since Adam had felt that pull, decades really, even when his mother was still alive. His wife, Margarita, had passed on a long time ago and that particular pain, for the most part, had faded. Still, with his mother now gone, there was the emptiness left by their absence which he'd never thought he'd be able to fill. Then along came Sergeant Beth Leith and the climate change scientist murder. Adam pondered how strange life work sometimes.

Walking around the table he bypassed the other seats and chose to stand at the drizzle-dampened windows, hands clasped behind his back. He stared down at the bustle of seaplanes arriving and departing. Farther out, the harbour marina offered concrete docks with wooden fingers. To these were tethered various types of sail and power boats gently moving against the wind and tide. He’d always thought there was something freeing about boats.

The view did nothing to lift the heavy feeling which weighed him down since he’d made this appointment with Abernathy. Like an immense rock pressing down on his chest. He hadn’t felt this down in months, not since the days after his mother’s funeral. The realization made him angry with himself, he needed to push past it, get over it. He wasn’t immune to grief, but he needed to learn to handle the emotion better.

Ah, Adam, I’m glad you made it.  There was a gentle rebuke in the older man’s tone.

Adam turned as a portly Asian man closed the hallway door. He walked into the room and over to his former client's son. Wu Abernathy’s statement no doubt referred to previous appointments Adam had cancelled.

Mr. Abernathy, nice to see you.  Adam said formally and held out his right hand.

Please call me Wu.  The lawyer took it in a warm two-handed grip. It’s been a long time, I am so sorry Evelyn has passed on, she was a dear friend. I also regret not being able to attend her funeral. I was stuck in Hong Kong because, well, we don’t need to get into that.  He released Adam’s hand.

The older man was shorter, forcing Adam to look down into eyes so dark brown they appeared black in the over-head lights. There was true sincerity there and Adam knew the lawyer meant what he said.

Adam nodded, Thank you.  He did know about the political struggles of the former British colony. He was about to let Abernathy know the legal council’s lack of attendance at the funeral wasn’t an issue when he was struck with a thought. You were working on the release of some political protestors. Mom would have understood.

Abernathy frowned. How did you know–oh yes. You work for the Foreign Affairs office.

Global Affairs.  He corrected gently. Yes, I read lots of reports.  Adam gave the man a bland smile.

No, not really, but his job was easier to explain this way. People’s eyes glazed over when he mentioned the civil servant post and that was good. He encouraged the idea there was nothing more boring than an analyst’s job, nothing to see here.

They each chose a chair at the table and sat. Will Ida Hill be joining us, Mr. Abernathy?  Adam could not address the older man by his first name. It didn’t feel right.

Even though over several decades Abernathy had handled every legal aspect of Evelyn Norcross’ career. Adam didn’t know the counsel as well as his mother had. He’d rarely come in contact with the lawyer although he knew Abernathy's relationship with his mother went back to their university days.

He knew Abernathy specialized in international contract law, while his mother had gone into the criminal side. She’d even defended one or two high-profile cases before calling it quits. Evelyn Norcross hadn’t stayed a practicing lawyer for more than a few years before Adam was born.

Wu Abernathy came back on the scene with his mother's first book contract with a British publishing house. Her friend handled every aspect of her contracts, including details like the film rights to her books and the agent contract his mother had with Ida Hill, and of course her estate.

The older man settled into his chair and placed a black leather portfolio in front of him. He paused to look over at his client’s son for a moment as he tugged down the gold vest under his brown suit jacket.

No, no one else will be joining us. The contract between your mother and her agent expired some time ago. Although the two continued to be friends, as I understand it.  Abernathy adjusted the height of his roller chair, and then shifted his gaze back to Adam.

The lawyer's fidgety demeanour demanded closer inspection. Something else was going on, Adam could feel it. As he watched Abernathy, he was struck with the familiar feeling of events falling into place. His precognitive ability flashed a scene into his mind's eye for a brief second.

Papers, stapled together, with a triangle of pale blue paper on the corner of the document. Then a simple sealed cream envelope with his name scribed across it, placed on top.

Norcross blinked. He knew without a shadow of doubt the information contained within the older man’s portfolio would affect him. How deeply and whether the information was positive or negative was yet to be determined.

He flexed his jaw as he gritted his teeth. Adam never liked surprises.

Adam’s precognitive ability took a lot of the guesswork out of a large part of his life and that was the way he liked it.

He concentrated on the lawyer and ignored the negative feelings he was experiencing. He rested his forearms casually on the arms of the black leather chair and folded his hands to wait. He breathed in and out slowly, a familiar calm settled over him. This was an exercise taught to him years ago for maintaining control under stress.

It was then he realized moisture beaded Abernathy’s upper lip. The lawyer was tense. This made Norcross curious as he watched the older man unclasped the black leather portfolio and removed a file folder, thick with documents.

Next, the lawyer took out a black Mount Blanc pen and opened it and placed it on a yellow legal pad beside the folder. Then a sheaf of papers with the pale blue triangle stapled at the corner was extracted. Clearly this document was his mother’s formal will.

Finally, he extracted a pair of gold-rimmed glasses from a case in his left breast pocket. As the older man slipped on the glasses, Adam was forced to suppress his impatience at Abernathy’s delaying tactics. He frowned. What was the reason the old boy was stalling?

It was ridiculous to dread what his mother had put in her will. He knew the house and adjacent property was already his. What else could there be? Maybe a bit of cash, but that was all.

Surely anything Abernathy was about to tell him couldn’t be all that bad. They would get through the task in due time, however Adam had other business to handle. Mr. Abernathy could we begin, please. I have another appointment I must see to.

Yes, of course.  He gave Adam a pained smile and brought order to the papers he’d removed from the folder.

It took mere minutes for Abernathy to read out the will. The document said exactly what Adam had expected, he was his mother's sole heir. Adam's ownership of the property in Maple Bay was confirmed, he owned the house outright, and there was no mortgage. So far no real surprises.

Do you have any questions?

Adam shook his head. Not so far.

The lawyer moved this document to the right of the legal pad while he retained a stack of loose papers in front of him. These he precisely lined up beside the manila tab folder.

A ghost of a smile curved Adam’s mouth at Abernathy’s fussing.

There may be one or two revelations for you in the rest of this. I hope you don’t mind, could we leave questions until the end when I’ve gone through it all once?

Now an unfamiliar sensation crept down Adam's spine. All right maybe there was something to dread after all. Of course.

Abernathy settled his wire-framed glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and picked up the top sheet of paper. He took a breath and looked directly back at Adam.

To begin with, your mother’s income is derived from several sources. Firstly, her mystery novels, under her own name and that of royalties from Brown Wolf Publishing. Secondly, there is revenue in the form of funds from the two film options. These were invested into an income trust.

Adam nodded, he knew all this, but let the older man give him some details on how and where the funds were invested. You’ll have to decide what you’d like to do with those funds, as they will need to be transferred over to you. I’ve made a list of options for you to review and we can develop a plan once you’ve made your choices.

Again he nodded. Adam did not want to speak and interrupt Abernathy now that the lawyer was getting down to business.

The third revenue stream, well.  Abernathy cleared his throat and kept his eyes focused on the sheet of paper in front of him. "These are more substantial royalties, those coming from her second series, Dark Scandals, under her pen name Ivy Blackwood, also from the same publisher."  He said all this in a rush and by the tight expression on the older man’s face, it was plain Abernathy had some issue with the information.

Adam tipped his head to one side. I’ve never heard of Dark Scandals or Ivy Blackwood for that matter.  His tone was pensive as he looked at the legal counsel. I didn’t see any books from this series in her library.

I can’t say I’m surprised. How does a mother tell her son she writes, or wrote, tawdry–well, never mind.  Abernathy shook his partially bald white head as he shuttered.

An amused smile threatened as he endeavoured to keep his face blank. Even so, Adam was beginning to find this whole thing quite entertaining. Go on, Mr. Abernathy.

The councillor made an erasing motion with his right hand. Anyway yes, she did. How else do you think she could afford for you to go to Cambridge University? The film options on the first mystery novels didn’t come in until much later.

Ah,  Adam nodded and lifted his eyebrows. This explains a few things. I wonder why she never told me.

Abernathy looked over the top of his half-moon reading glasses at Adam. If you had ever read any of the Dark Scandals books, you'd know why.  

Ah, well as I said, I’ve never even heard of the series until now. I doubt the genre is my thing.  

However from the look Abernathy was giving him, it was apparent the lawyer might have read one. The skin above his white shirt and tie darkened, and his cheeks flushed. Possibly he’d read more than a couple then?

Mm, well, I dare say.  The older man cleared his throat.

Abernathy passed a printed spreadsheet across the table. This is the breakdown of the revenue streams.  He tapped the ‘royalties’ column with one thick finger. Those will continue for some time. I checked with Ian Wolf, comptroller for Brown Wolf Publishing and he assured me there is still significant interest in your mother’s work and the revenue will continue for some time with the help of their marketing campaign. He feels you could leave things as they are. He’ll be in touch if anything regarding the sales from your mother’s novels changes.

I see.  Adam looked down at the amount of money coming in. Guilt punched him in the chest. "It’s not a lot, is it? What was my mother