“… kept me engrossed and guessing all the way …” bestselling author L.J. Sellers
Mapleton, Colorado’s police chief, Gordon Hepler, would rather be on the streets than behind a desk, but he promised his late mentor he’d accept the position. And to Gordon, a promise is a promise, even if the person you made it to isn’t around anymore. However, doubts creep in, and he wonders if he was shoved into the job because his mentor thought he couldn’t cut it on the streets.
Everything changes when a fatal traffic accident well outside Mapleton seems connected to the elderly Rose and Sam Kretzer, two of Mapleton’s most beloved citizens. When Gordon ties the car accident to a grisly murder in Mapleton—the first anyone in town can remember—he’s afraid he’s into more than he bargained for.
The arrival of Megan, the Kretzers grown godchild, and Justin, their grandson, add to Gordon’s troubles when Megan is mugged and someone breaks in and ransacks the Kretzers’ home. Gordon’s fears that he’s in over his head are realized when his investigation seems to link the Kretzers to a Nazi war criminal. Can he work with the big-city detective brought in to assist? Will he be able to solve the crime without revealing the secrets of his citizens?
Gordon stood inside the doorway, taking in the scene, finding the detachment needed to keep from smashing his fist through the wall.
Betty Bedford was secured to her wooden desk chair. Her ankles were crossed in front of her, bound with duct tape. Another wide belt of tape went around her torso. Her arms, taped at the wrists, were behind the chair.
A nuisance, a pest, a thorn in his side she might have been, but she was a vital woman, barely into her sixties. She should have been pestering him for years to come. Her bright, eager eyes, now filmed with death, stared into nothingness.
He took three deep breaths, counted to ten, and called out to Doc Evans, who doubled as the city coroner.
Doc straightened from his crouch next to the body. “She’s been murdered.”
Yeah, that was a fairly easy call. The slit throat was a dead giveaway. Kind of hard to do yourself when you were tied up. Or tie yourself up afterward. And her shop was in ruins. Heaps of clothing in the center of the room, all her quirky ambience pieces broken and strewn helter-skelter. Cardboard boxes, contents spewed, lay upended amidst the debris.
Read the first chapter