Death at Dunsmore Hall: A Whodunit Cozy Mystery by Daphne Willow

Author:Daphne Willow [Willow, Daphne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clark Global Publications
Published: 2024-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

7

* * *

I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, and it’s not at all how I imagined this Thursday evening to go. The killer’s eyes – someone I once trusted with the mundane details of small-town life – are cold, resolute. My heart hammers in my chest, a metronome set to a deathly tempo. Fear wants to take hold, but I can’t let it; there’s too much at stake.

“Gracie, you’re in over your head,” Farley Eggers sneers, the gun unwavering in his hand.

“Maybe,” I admit, my voice steadier than I feel. “But I can’t ignore the truth. Not when it’s staring me in the face.” My mind races for an escape plan, but my feet are rooted to the spot, like the old oaks lining Main Street.

The air is thick with tension, laced with the scent of betrayal. I think of Aunty Q, of her telling me stories that weaved through fact and fiction, teaching me that justice always has a price. Have I paid too much this time?

“Should’ve stayed out of it, Gracie,” he taunts, bringing me back to the chilling present.

“Journalists don’t stay out of things; it’s not in our nature,” I retort, buying time, praying for a miracle or at least a distraction.

“John will never forgive himself if he loses you because of your foolishness,” Farley says, and my resolve wavers. John - Detective Donne - his feelings for me hidden behind a badge, but I’ve caught glimpses in his smoky gaze. I know he’s close, I can almost sense his presence, his internal war between duty and desire.

“John knows the risks,” I force the lie through my teeth. “Just like I do.”

Out of nowhere, footsteps echo against the alley walls, rapid and determined. It’s John, I’m sure of it. My pulse quickens, not just from fear now, but also from the knowledge that I’m not alone in this.

“Gracie, drop to the ground!” The sharp edge of John’s authoritative voice cuts through the night like a knife.

I hesitate for only a second before I hit the gravel with a jolt. Gunshots pierce the silence of this Midwestern town – a symphony of chaos – as John takes control of the situation, his training overtaking any emotional turmoil.

As I lay there, face against the cold ground, my thoughts scatter. Should I have remained the curious journalist? Pushed aside the whispers of danger for the sake of the story? My neat and ordered world has just been upended, and for a moment, I wonder if my tenacity was worth the disarray.

“Gracie, are you okay?” John’s kneeling beside me now, the concern in his voice belies the composure of his stance.

“Never better,” I quip, though my voice trembles. My attempt at wit feels hollow, overshadowed by the gravity of what could have been.

He offers a hand, pulling me to my feet, his touch both reassuring and complicating everything. “You push too hard, Gracie. One day...”

“I know,” I interrupt, not needing to hear the rest. “I’ll be more careful.”

We both know it’s a promise I’m likely to break.

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