Deadly Places: A Mapleton Mystery Novella by Terry Odell Read Free Book Online

questions, and figuring out what they’re trying not to tell you,” Ed said. “Most of the bad guys are lying, so it’s a lot of sorting out the important lies from the ones that don’t matter.”
    Mary Ellen joined them a few minutes later, and they all commented on everything from the appropriateness of the women’s attire, to how the crime scene techs really worked, to whether or not a cop would be allowed to do the things they were doing. Ed savored a rare moment of family , not just the four of them in the same room.
     
    Later, Mary Ellen tucked alongside him in bed, breathing evenly, Ed got the feeling he’d rounded a corner into an old, familiar neighborhood he hadn’t been aware he’d left. He kissed the top of Mary Ellen’s head and drifted into sleep.
    He woke early, refreshed and wide awake. But instead of rushing to his laptop, or his phone, he crept downstairs and made the coffee. On a whim, he started preparing his Sunday morning pancakes. So what if it was Tuesday?
    Mary Ellen came down a short time later, wrapped in her pale blue fleece robe. Funny how sexy it looked on her this morning. She helped herself to coffee and raised her brows in question.
    Ed waggled his brows in response. Did she think he looked sexy in his sweats? Did the gray at his temples add to his appeal? Instinctively, he sucked in his gut. Not that he wasn’t fit, but it had been a few years since he’d seen the big 4-0. “What can I say? I had this sudden urge for pancakes.”
    Her expression said she remembered the first time they’d spent the night together, and he’d tried to impress her with his culinary skills by fixing breakfast the next morning.
    She leaned over and speared a cake, taking a bite. She chewed, swallowed, and smiled. “You’ve come a long way.”
    Jeremy, their morning son, swept into the kitchen fully dressed, hair combed, ready to face his day. “Wow. Pancakes? On a Tuesday?”
    “Set the table,” Mary Ellen said. “And then get your brother. We’ll eat together this morning.”
    After a brief interlude of sibling shouting, a pajama-clad Mitch stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Why did I have to get—? Pancakes? On Tuesday?”
    He flopped into his chair, his gaze alternating between Ed and Mary Ellen, the amused expression on the boy’s face telling Ed he was going to have to give him The Talk pretty damn soon. How had they grown up so fast?
     
    Ed arrived at his office, acting like there was nothing unusual or wrong about rolling in after eight. Despite his internal argument that it wouldn’t make a difference if he arrived at six-fifteen or eight-fifteen, the anxiety he’d missed something important bounced around his belly. Laurie, who had a key to his office, had left the night reports in his inbox. No red folder this time. Rather than invite any potential questions as to why he was later than usual, Ed sat behind his desk and brought himself up to speed with what had gone down the night before.
    Bad choice of words, he thought, as heat rose to his face and a smile played along his lips.
    No bear sightings, nor any reports of anything attributable to a bear doing bear stuff in Mapleton. Maybe Miss Menard’s visitor had moved on. After setting the reports aside to be filed, Ed opened his email.
    When he saw Detective Rosen’s name in the list, Ed reminded himself his query to the detective was strictly for information-gathering, and—he checked the time stamp—getting here at five in the morning wouldn’t have made a difference. To prove it to himself, Ed bypassed the message and decided that today, he’d open them in the order they’d arrived.
    Which meant the one from the mayor was going to wait its turn as well. After all, when the man wanted something he considered important, he called.
    Ed reflected on his options as he went through the messages—most of these did little more than eat up his time, and could be fielded by Laurie. When he’d come aboard, she’d