Actuallygasped.
Suddenly, the titleCold Blue Killermade sense. The police officer who’d been first on the scene in the book’s opening was also the murderer. And Mitch had never seen it coming. How? Mitch shook his head as he read on, marveling that his son had pulled off such a feat. In hindsight, he could see the clues that had been set up, but it had all been done so cleverly they’d escaped him.
And Mitch was no casual reader. He was well-read. He often read books before they were published because his publisher hoped he’d like the book enough to give it a cover quote. He’d never read one that had kept his attention like this. Or kept him in the dark this long.
A new thought came into his head.
His son might actually be a better writer than he was. Mitch smiled as pride filled him. Kyle might want to publish under a different name, which was fine, but Mitch was going to use his contacts to get his son noticed.
The book deserved the attention. It might even sell at auction. It was that good. His gut said Harper would agree. The book was something special.
He looked at the time. He’d been reading for a while. Kyle might be back already. As soon as Mitch hit the end, he was going to tell Kyle his plan.
He went back to the book, reading as fast as he could while still maintaining comprehension. When he reached the last page, he was sad it was over but thrilled that his son had turned out such an impressively good read.
He left the tablet on the couch and got up to find Kyle. Joyce and Beryl were at the kitchen counter having a cup of tea. “Did Kyle come back yet?”
Joyce nodded. “He did, but then he put Ruthie in a swim nappy and took her down to the pool.”
“We have swim nappy—um, diapers?”
Joyce lifted her cup, her brows rising simultaneously as she gave him a look. “You bought them.”
“How about that.” Probably because he hadn’t realized what he was buying, but clearly that had worked out.
He jogged down the steps, through the bonus room that led out to the pool, and outside. Kyle was in the pool with Ruthie, who was in the swim diaper, a T-shirt, and a sunhat. Ruthie was splashing the water with her hands and kicking her legs, all while making happy little noises. “You two look like you’re having fun.”
Kyle grinned. “We are. She seems to really like the water. One of the moms at the group today said she started her son in swimming lessons when he was six months old, so it made me wonder what Ruthie would think of the pool.”
“Can babies swim at that age?”
“I don’t think they can really swim, but no harm in starting young, I guess. Right, Ruthie?”
Ruthie shrieked with excitement, her happy little laugh bringing joy to Mitch’s heart. “I’m glad she likes it. Living here means she’ll be around the water a lot. She definitely needs to know how to swim.”
“I agree,” Kyle said.
Mitch sat at the edge of the pool, letting his feet dangle in the water. He watched Ruthie for a few minutes, smiling at her antics. When Kyle inched closer to him, he finally spoke. “I wanted to talk to you about your book.”
Kyle’s face took on a much more serious expression. “Is it good or bad?”
Mitch grinned and shook his head. “It’s good. It’s really good. The book was so much more than I expected. That’s not to say there isn’t room for improvement. There are a few sections that could use some tightening up. But overall, the story is…I’m really impressed. I don’t know how you learned to write like that, but well done, son.”
Kyle just stared for a moment. “You mean that?”
“I could not mean it more. It’s hard to believe it’s your first book.”
“Thanks. I did a lot of reading and studying.” Kyle grinned and swished Ruthie through the water, which made her squeal with delight. “What did you think of the killer? Who he was, I mean.”
“Incredibly clever. And the clues were so well-handled that I didn’t pick up on them. But when I did get it, I saw the clues. It was— Okay, I shouldn’t say this about your first book, because it sets a high bar, but it was masterful. How on Earth did you learn to write like that?”
Kyle looked at him like he wasn’t being serious. “Well, from you.”
“I never taught you to write. I might have mentioned a few things over the years, but I don’t remember ever giving you the kinds of tools you clearly put to use.”
“It wasn’t anything you deliberately did, although I feel like I know tons about the publishing business just from hearing you talk to Mom about it. But I’ve read a lot. Everything you’ve ever written, for starters.”
“Everything?”
