Killer Revenge: A small-town murder mystery with big city danger (A Hope Ridge Mystery Book 3) by Rosemary Willhide

Author:Rosemary Willhide [Willhide, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Mystery Suspense
Publisher: Small Town Mysteries
Published: 2022-11-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The next day my eyes welled up with tears as I read Vanessa’s masterpiece, Missing in Hope Ridge. This was it. I re-read my favorite line again.

“One thing I’ve realized is that evil comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors … and so does kindness and decency.”

This was the book I was meant to champion.

I plucked up my phone to call Vanessa and fangirl, when the doorbell rang. Ugh! Now who was showing up unannounced? Maybe it was Harry Davis with the tomatoes. I promised I’d give them to Ethan. He had a much more grown-up palette than me.

“Come on, girl,” I said to Brownie as she trotted by my side. “Let’s go see who it is.”

My stomach knotted when I flung open the door and found Detective Rossi on the porch. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’d like you to come with me to the local police station. We have more questions.”

“Um … I did a cheek swab to help the investigation.”

“Right. You see, there’s a problem. Your DNA was found in Diane Allison’s house and the other victim’s car. I’d appreciate it if you came with me.”

“That’s impossible. I was never in her house or the other victim’s car.”

“We’ve got evidence that says otherwise and video of you and Gail Sneath in an altercation in front of the bookstore.”

“It was an isolated incident. She hit my car with her door.”

“We also have an eyewitness that saw you in an altercation with Diane at the Hope Ridge Animal Hospital.”

Penny the receptionist must’ve ratted me out.

“Look, I can appreciate how this seems, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I didn’t shoot anyone. I’ve never held a gun in my hand. I’ll tell you who does have a shotgun, Harry Davis. He threatened to shoot my dog and he told me yesterday that whoever killed Diane did Hope Ridge a favor. I can’t believe you’re not on his porch.”

“Well, speaking of guns, we found the murder weapon buried under the trees across the street. It wasn’t a shotgun like Harry Davis owns. It was a stolen handgun. You may have wiped your fingers prints off the gun, Miss Bradshaw, but the cloth you wrapped it in, had your DNA all over it.”

What the hell was he talking about? It was as if his words wrapped around me like tentacles and squeezed the air from my lungs.

I gasped, “I didn’t do it. I swear to you. It wasn’t me. There has to be some explanation.”

“Call your lawyer, Miss. You’ll need to come with me.”

When I arrived at the police station, Leigh was already inside exchanging pleasantries with the sheriff.

“Thank you for coming, Leigh,” I said.

She clasped my shoulder in comfort. “Of course. Why don’t we take a seat.”

“Can I get you anything, Miss? Some water?” the sheriff offered. “We have a soda machine, but it’s mostly Mountain Dew and Dr Pepper.”

I eased down on one of the cold metal chairs. “No, I’m okay. Where’s the detective?”

“He’ll be along shortly,” the sheriff replied.

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