Page 56 of Crumbling Truth
Fortunately, Oliver wasn’t bumming around the way I was; he was already at work at the bank he managed in town. His reply came quickly, and though I could tell he was curious, he didn’t ask any questions about why I wanted Rose’s number. I thankedhim, promised I’d update him after I had more information, and called her.
“Detective Hanson,” she said when she answered the phone.
“Rose, hey. It’s Theo Silver. I hope you remember me, or else this is going to get super awkward.”
She laughed, the same deep, booming laugh I’d always loved to hear in the middle of the cafeteria at school. “Theo, I don’t think a single person in this town has forgotten you. As much as I’d like to pretend this is you calling to apologize for knocking out my first loose tooth on the playground when we were six, I’m going to assume it’s not a social call. What’s up?”
“Oh, right. Well, I am sorry about that, actually. I’m calling for Esther Malek, though. She’s been getting some creepy phone calls, and a vaguely threatening email came through recently. I wondered if there’s anything you can do to help us figure out who’s behind it.”
“I can try,” she said, sounding a little skeptical, “but no promises. Can you bring the phone by the station today?”
I assured her we would make time for it, like our busy schedule didn’t consist solely of meals and sex, and thanked her profusely. Feeling better about the whole prank call situation, I returned to the pantry to triple check the ingredients list on a box of pancake mix. I set it aside to start a pot of coffee, then pulled out the rest of what I needed and started whisking.
As though summoned by the aroma of fresh coffee, Esther came plodding into the kitchen in bare feet and a fuzzy pink bathrobe she’d brought with her. I paused to appreciate the view.
“You look like you should be wearing bunny slippers right now,” I said as I left my batter on the counter to run my hands over the plush fabric of the robe.
“I like to be cozy,” she said primly, but she buried her face in my chest. “Good morning.”
I kissed the top of her head and gestured to the ingredients I’d lined up along the countertop. “I checked everything, but I wanted to make sure it’s all safe. And, obviously, I hope you like pancakes.”
From our previous meals together, I’d gotten the distinct impression that Steve “The Asshole” Pautler had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, nor ever really taken her allergies into consideration. She blinked rapidly at the line of items, like she was swallowing back tears, then inspected each box and container.
“All good, and I love pancakes,” she whispered.
“Hey,” I said softly, pulling her back into my arms. “It’s okay.”
Esther nodded against my shoulder. “It’s more than okay, it’s great. Thank you. Not just for the pancakes, but for being great.”
“You deserve great.”
“I’m just not used to it,” she admitted. “Steve was…well. Not great.”
With one finger, I tipped her chin up and kissed her gently. She was still sleepy and sweet, practically melting against me. I didn’t let her go until I was positive she’d stopped thinking about the son of a bitch she’d married.
“Why don’t you sit and have some coffee while I make these?” I suggested.
I watched from the corner of my eye as she poured a mug of coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, and trudged toward the table. It was only when her eyes landed on the phone that I remembered I needed to tell her about the call.
To my great relief, she seemed annoyed but not concerned. When I explained about Rose, one side of her mouth curved upward.
“Detective Hanson was the first one to show up when Steve died,” she said.
I thought I’d learned my lesson as far as talking about him, but given that opening, I had to ask. “How did he actually die?”
“Aneurysm.”
She said it simply, like she’d explained it a dozen times, and maybe she had. Knowing Spruce Hill, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“And the rumor that you killed him, where the hell did that come in?”
Now her lips tipped up in earnest, though she appeared to be fighting the smile. “I might have gotten tired of being interrogated by townsfolk,” she hedged.
My jaw dropped. “You sneaky little minx. You encouraged the rumor, didn’t you?” When her pink-clad shoulders lifted and fell with dainty nonchalance, I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, Oliver would pay good money for that little detail, you know. What do you say we go halfsies?”
She laughed, cradling her coffee mug between her hands. “It’s a deal.”
As we settled in to eat breakfast together, I wondered why this felt so good, soright. I might have ended all my relationships well before we moved in together, but it wasn’t like I’d never spent the night with a woman I was dating. Hell, Annabelle and I had spent a week together in the Florida Keys a couple years ago, a month before I reminded her I wasn’t looking to get married and she dumped my ass. I’d made that clear to every partner right from the beginning, because I wouldn’t risk fucking up someone else’s life the way I once had.
