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and drove like a bat out of hell. He made good time.

Stan was directing the boarding vehicle traffic.

“Where’s Maguire, Stan?”

“Up top, Sheriff. But we shove off in seventeen.”

Didn’t he just know it. “Thanks.” Wyn took off in a run.

“Whoa, son. Slow down.” Maguire stood inside a sparsely furnished office on the top deck of the ferry. He was a burly Irishman with a head full of white curly hair that peeked from his cap. His bulbous nose and chafed cheeks were red from the blustery autumn wind.

Wyn bent at the waist to catch his breath.

“But don’t slow down too much, Sheriff. We get underway in fourteen minutes.”

“You sailors and your time clocks. I’m looking for a man. I suspect he took a shot at Josephine Weatherford.”

His brows disappeared under the cap covering his forehead. “Now, who the devil would shoot at that sweet thing?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. His name is Wallace Hayes.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “You sayin’ Eleanor Hayes’ husband tried to kill one o’ her girls?”

It would certainly simplify things. “I’m saying I suspect the possibility.” Wyn’s breathing evened out somewhat, and he straightened. “Hayes stands about five feet six or seven inches tall. Dark hair, no gray, protruding gut, big nose. He was on the island last week. Showed up at the will reading.”

“Saw him a week ago on the way in. Can’t say as I remember him on the boat going out, but that don’t mean nothin’. I don’t spend all my time looking too closely at the passengers, you know. And then there’s the ones sittin’ in their cars.”

“Yeah.” Wyn tugged off his hat and shoved a hand through his short hair. “It was a long shot at best.”

“Ol’ Vic had a lot o’ enemies,” the captain said.

“Yeah.” Wyn blew out a breath. “Let me know if you hear anything.” He turned to go but stopped. “By the way, see if you can make sure a guy by the name of Julius something or other makes it on this ferry.”

Maguire laughed. “Julius, huh. You’re not asking much, are you? Got a description?”

“Tall, decent looking, I suppose. Light brown hair. Carries himself like a nob.”

“All right, all right. I’ll take a look around. You best go unless you want to swim back. I got a schedule to keep, if’n you don’t.”

Wyn barely made if off the boat before it was pulling out of the dock.

13

T

evi met Jo, Frizzle and Jackson at the back door. “Jo? What did he do to you?” she screamed. “You get away from her, Jackson Montgomery. I-I’ll call the sheriff.”

“Shockingly, I did nothing but help her home,” Jackson said. “Someone took a shot at her. Get the door.”

Tevi didn’t think to argue. Her shock would have been comical had Jo been prone to humor in the moment. “Is that true? I don’t see any blood.”

“It’s true. Thankfully, I wasn’t hit,” Jo said. “Help me to the library, please.”

Jackson lifted her and carried her through the kitchen, forcing Tevi to jump out of the way with a squawk of protest that was almost… fun. Frizzle darted around her petite sister. Also, funny. He was large enough to knock her flat.

Jo hadn’t lost all of her senses, however. She gripped Jackson’s shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“This is easier. I don’t have all night, waiting on you to limp along.” The old Jackson was quickly returning.

Tevi followed them down the hall and into the library. “How do you know it wasn’t Jackson who shot at you?”

“Because I was in front of her when the shot came. I saw her fall. You might as well ask if Smith shot her. He came up from behind her. Which, incidentally, was the same place the shot came from.”

Jo froze. Wyn? “Wyn—d-don’t be ridiculous,” she stuttered out. But the seed of doubt had been planted. Jackson crossed the threshold of the library and, surprisingly, set her down gently on the settee. She’d half expected him to drop her and rush out.

“What’s going on in here?” Lydia stood in the arch. She wore her wool cloak, her nose red from the cold.

Lydia had been outside—

“Where have you been?” Jo shook her head. She was thinking crazy. If she was thinking Lydia tried to shoot her, Jo might as well just check herself into Auburn right that minute. “Never mind. I’m glad you’re home,” she said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

“Home.” Lydia did not snort. She would never snort.

Jo leaned back on the arm of the settee and stretched her legs tentatively before her when all she wished to do was run screaming along the cliffs. Lydia did not shoot at me, Wyn did not shoot at me. “Did Stephens get our belongings boxed and sent out for us?” She had to concentrate to keep the hysteria from overtaking her. Wyn would not shoot at me. She was losing her mind.

“They should be here Tuesday or Wednesday.” Lydia stripped off her gloves and stuffed them in her pockets. “It’s freezing out.”

Jo huddled within her own coat, shivering. Frizzle pushed his nose against her.

Jackson strolled over to the corner cabinet and poured out two tumblers of brandy and brought one back to Jo.

Jo accepted the glass, appalled at the nerves she couldn’t stem. She took a solid swallow that burned down her throat. She dropped her chin to her chest, ignoring Lydia and Tevi’s shocked expressions. It was clear to anyone who knew them, the usual animosity had subsided. Time would tell if it was only momentarily.

“Drink up,” he said then knocked his back. “Where’s Esther? We need to have a room made up for me.”

“I’ve already taken care of the situation.” Tevi’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve set you up on the other side of the house.”

Lydia frowned. “Esther said dinner at six. I’m not sure she was expecting you, Jackson.”

“Don’t know why not. In case you’ve forgotten, I live here, too, now.”

“Well, aren’t we the picture of normality,” Tevi said, with a punctuated

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