13
The front door of Connell’s childhood home opened directly onto a large mudroom.
“This must come in handy,” she said to the chief. “Given the number of muddy werewolves who cross this threshold…”
Douglas paused and grunted.
An actual sound! It was progress, she thought, following him farther into the house.
The impression she’d had of a rustic lodge was solidified when the tiled mudroom gave way to an open space full of leather and wood paneling. Huge redwood beams supported a twenty-foot ceiling. Three staircases led to a second floor from the living-room area, and a massive fireplace dominated the living room.
In front of it was a big, three-sided leather couch, on which sat two women. One was a teenager. The other was roughly Connell’s age. The latter looked so much like him th
