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Back The Midnight Man Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. Praise for Caroline Mitchell
  5. Also by Caroline Mitchell
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. About Caroline Mitchell
  70. About Embla Books

‘I’m gonna be late for work,’ he said, picking up some empty crisp packets from the floor.

‘Have you emptied the litter trays?’

Christian exhaled a weary sigh. ‘No time. I’ll do it when I get home.’

‘You said that yesterday,’ Elsie tutted. ‘Have you fed the cats? Milk ain’t enough to keep them going all day.’ She would do it herself, but her back hurt like the dickens. The painkillers the doctor prescribed weren’t cutting it anymore.

Christian retreated into the kitchen, and the rattle of dried cat food hit the metal trays.

‘Don’t forget to drop my books off at the library,’ Elsie called, over the cacophony of miaows. Ripping off a chunk of chicken flesh, she made short work of her food. ‘And honey, bring home some decent books this time. Glorified immorality is not my idea of a fun read.’ She shooed Felix away as he jumped up on the bed. He knew better than to beg for scraps.

Christian’s expression softened as he returned. ‘It’s a crime thriller, Mom, I thought you’d like it.’

Elsie raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t read books by male authors. Too much profanity and sexual content.’ She caught her son wincing as she threw the chicken bone into the bucket. ‘Besides …’ she continued, reaching for a book from the pile at the end of the bed. ‘This one is foreign.’ She spoke the word with disgust.

‘It’s Scandi crime,’ Christian took the grease-stained book from her grip. ‘It’s all the rage.’

‘More like scanty,’ Elsie replied. ‘Given how many times they took their clothes off.’ As the daughter of a Presbyterian minister, Elsie was no stranger to vocalising her discontent. ‘Get me a nice Mary Cleveland. Her writing’s like a warm buttered biscuit, just melts off the page.’

‘I’ll try.’ Christian gathered the stack of books.

‘And remember to pick me up a skinny latte.’ She vocalised one last order. ‘Five squirts of hazelnut syrup with extra cream.’

‘Bye, Mom.’ Christian kissed her on the forehead. ‘Have a good day.’

She gave him a tinkly wave as she watched him leave. His shirt strained across his shoulders. Since when had he got so broad? Sometimes she forgot that he was a man now. It did him good to escape her company, even if it meant working for his uncle Ron. It was a sympathy job, because Christian had been her carer from the tender age of ten, when Elsie’s parents passed away in the same year. While relatives felt sorry for them, few were willing to help. She was tired of their pity, but she couldn’t seem to find a way out. Right now, the biggest challenge she could face was making it to the restroom on time.

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