A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy L Wheeler

Author:Kathy L Wheeler [Wheeler, Kathy L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kathy L Wheeler
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Just before dusk, Jo pushed her hair out of her face and went out Cobblestone Café’s front with Frizzle on her heels, to a breeze that had turned frigid. She clutched her cloak at the neck and climbed the hill towards the forest that lead to the bluffs. Frizzle followed her up the slight incline to the edge of town that boasted some of the prettiest scenery on the island then turned off the street on a graveled path lined with evergreen pines and tall firs. Once one reached the cliffs, there were only two directions one could go: to the left that led to the manor; to the right to Serpent’s Point and the lighthouse on the peninsula.

The gloomy weather within the trees lowered the visibility to almost nil, but she and Frizzle knew the route well. Wind stirred the branches overhead as if making soft conversation, but the feeling of isolation made Jo antsy and she shivered inside her wool coat. She could feel similar tension emanating from Frizzle.

A second later, Frizzle let out a low growl.

The hair lifted at her nape. She refused to run. She was not a coward, however, she did pick up her steps. The crunch of leaves crackled behind.

Frizzle stopped.

“No, boy. Come on.” A sense of terror she hadn’t experienced since she was nine years old seized her. The intervening years hadn’t dimmed her alarm of that day when Wallace Hayes had trapped her in Charles Weatherford’s study. But she wasn’t trapped inside now. She broke into a run. If she and Frizzle could make it to the cliffs just ahead, they’d be in the open, but at the edge of the trees she tripped, landing hard on her knees.

Frizzle’s ferocious bark rattled the needles on the pines.

A shot blasted overhead. “Frizzle,” Jo screamed. “Frizzle. No. Not Frizzle,” she whimpered, curled in a ball where she lay. Her hands covered her ears. Tears squeezed through her tightly shut eyes. Not Frizzle. Everything moved in slow motion then.

“Jo! Good God, are you all right?”

Jo could register the voice as male. But she couldn’t see him for her blurred her vision. “Where’s Frizzle. Find him. Find him.”

A man took her by the arms and shook her. “Are you hurt?”

“Jack-Jackson? Where’s my dog?”

“I don’t know. I heard a gunshot. Was someone chasing you?”

“I-I think so.”

“Who?”

“I-I don’t know.” Her voice, her limbs, shook violently.

Heavy-booted footsteps crashed through the brush. “Jo. Jo, what the hell is going on? I heard a gun fire.”

Jackson was ripped away and Wyn was crouched beside her, his arm wrapping her shoulders. “You’re under arrest, Montgomery.”

Frizzle shot through the brush, knocking Wyn to his backside. In a split second, Frizzle was licking Jo’s face. She checked Frizzle’s face and head, ran her hands over his neck, his chest, his front legs. “You’re okay,” she whispered, slumping. “You’re okay.” She wrapped her arms around his massive neck.

“I didn’t shoot at her, you fool. I heard the shot, too. I came from the cliffs,” Jackson said.

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