A defense of Susan rose to my lips, but I held back. Katie was right—my conversation with Susan the night before had made it clear I couldn’t be neutral about her. I didn’t believe she was a killer, but there was no reason to brush her off the suspect list. “Either way, I think she’s a dead end as far as Sammy is concerned. But maybe it’s time to speak to Mark’s wife. Or maybe Sammy’s family. See if they know of someone who had a vendetta against her.” That sounded like the least fun thing I could imagine.
“That should probably wait until after Sammy’s funeral, at least.”
I nodded but didn’t speak, letting my attention drift to the shrinking shadows as the sunset began to fade. Maybe I’d call Branson. I was certain the police would’ve spoken to Sammy’s family.
Finally losing interest in the elk, Watson wandered back over, sat his rump on my right foot, and looked up at me expectantly.
Katie giggled. “He’s not very subtle.”
On cue, my stomach growled. “We have that in common.” I needed to be active or my brain was going to go into hyperdrive again. “It’s dinnertime. Want to join us?”
She considered, then shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m exhausted. I’m going to sit here and enjoy the elk while they hang around and then go home and crash. It’s ridiculous how quickly my body forgot what four thirty in the morning feels like.” She lifted a hand and crossed her fingers. “Hopefully tomorrow we can both be fresh and think up some new leads. Chances are high we won’t be quite as packed tomorrow either, so maybe we can take turns going out to talk to people. If Alex noticed Sammy sneaking in at night, maybe others saw some things, too.”
“Hopefully so.” After I unwedged my foot from Watson’s bottom, I leaned forward and gave Katie a quick hug. “See you in the morning.”
She returned the gesture. “Sweet dreams.”
There was little chance of that, but I gave a wave, and Watson and I headed out. He was so excited he nearly dragged me across the street. “Good grief, Watson, you act like we haven’t eaten all day.”
He ignored me and continued to pull.
I was less than half a block away when I remembered the phone call I’d gotten from Percival earlier in the afternoon. He and Gary had four tickets to see Hamilton when it came to Denver. They’d offered me the other two, told me I could bring a date. I was certain they were hoping I’d bring Branson or Leo. Knowing Percival, he was probably hoping I’d ask for a third ticket and bring both of them. I halted in place, earning myself a condemning glare from Watson. “Sorry, buddy. We need to go back to Katie, but just for a second. I promise you will still get dinner.”
Begrudgingly, he followed along; just far enough back that I wasn’t dragging him, but slow enough to let me know he was following under duress.
We crossed the street and were about fifty feet from Katie, who was focused on the elk across the river. Watson stopped, pulling me up short. I glanced back at him. “Seriously? Have I ever not given you dinner? I swear a person would think….” My words trailed off as I noticed his expression. He was at full alert, his head tilted and his ears twitching. A low growl reverberated from him.
I glanced around, expecting to spot coyotes or a cougar near the underbrush by the river. I didn’t see anything, though it was already too dark to trust my sight. “What do you hear, boy?”
He cocked his head again, and I realized whatever he heard wasn’t by the river, but the other direction.
Still, I saw nothing. I gave a gentle pull on his leash. “It’s okay, just stay by my side. Whatever it is will leave us alone.” I’d heard stories of mountain lions snatching pets out of backyards with families nearby. Watson allowed himself to be pulled closer, and we took a few more steps, him directly by my feet.
Probably sensing our presence, Katie looked over and smiled. “Did you forget something?”
Just as I was about to respond, Watson growled again, louder this time, and I caught the faintest of pops in the distance. Less than a heartbeat later, there was a snapping of twigs and the leaves rustled in a bush beside Katie.
It only took me a second to place the sound and put two and two together. “Katie, get down!” I ran toward her, Watson streaming along beside me.
“What?” She sat up straighter, looking startled at my response.
“Down! Get on the ground.” We were a mere few feet away, and I was getting ready to tackle her.
Katie lowered herself off the rock to a squat at the exact moment I heard that telltale whisper of a pop, followed by another crackle of twigs and rustle of leaves, this time right where Katie had been.
I half tackled, half fell on her, my momentum carrying us several inches over the rough ground.
She let out a yelp. “Fred!”
“You’re being shot at.” I pulled her alongside me, partially rolling, part crawling, to be better covered by the large rock. “Someone is trying to shoot you.”
Katie and I tumbled down the short riverbank, both of us sliding halfway into the icy water. Watson let out a yelp as he was dragged along behind, his leash still firmly in my grip. The elks’ hooves were thunderous as they tore away in a panic, and Katie yelled in shock as we broke through the thin ice. She tried to scamper back onto the bank, but I yanked her back down. “Don’t move.”
“Fred. We can’t stay in the water.” She managed to hiss, though she was sucking in air like she was about to hyperventilate.
Where we were, the water wasn’t deep or swift. Once we stood, it would probably come to midcalf, but both of us were soaked up to our waists. Watson managed to catch his grip, getting no more than one of his forepaws in the river. “Better the water than getting shot.”
“I’m not—” She flinched, stopped struggling, and met my gaze. “Did you say shot?”
“Yes. Didn’t you hear it? It was right by your—” I shook my head, cutting myself off. “Be quiet for a second.”
She did as I asked, as did Watson, though he paced in a frantic fashion on the edge of the water, clearly debating if he should jump in and try to pull me out. Probably thinking I was an idiot for deciding to bathe in an icy river.
I strained my ears, but I heard nothing more than the babbling of the water around the ice and the hum of cars nearby. No more quiet pop of gunfire or snapping of twigs. No sound of footsteps running our way. Katie was right, though; we couldn’t stay here.
“Okay, let’s get out of the water but stay below the edge of the bank. Keep your head down.”
Still looking at me like I was crazy, Katie did as I asked, and within a few moments, we were both out of the water and shivering. Watson pushed himself against me as he whined.
Miraculously, I noticed my purse a couple of feet away; it hadn’t gone into the river. I yanked it toward me, fished out my phone, instantly opened my contacts, and hit Branson’s name. If he answered, it would take less time than dialing 911 and explaining.
He picked up on the second ring. “Fred, I was hoping I’d—”
“Katie was just shot at. I’m not sure if the shooters are still here or if Watson and I scared them away.”
“What? Where—”
Cutting him off again, I quickly explained where we were. “Are you close?”
“Fred, you’re being ridiculous. Nobody—” Katie started to stand but I yanked her back down, earning a cold splash of water to my face.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Are you sure that—”
“Branson.” I battled my irritation. We didn’t have time for me to try to convince him or Katie that I wasn’t imagining things. “Just get here. Now.”
“Of course. Don’t move. I’m on my way.”
Relief coursed through me. As soon as I hung up the phone I strained to hear again. Tried to hear footsteps running towards us, bullets whizzing by.
“Sweetie, I think the past couple of days have been too much for you,” Katie whispered through chattering teeth. “No one is shooting at us.”
“Fine.” I didn’t loosen my grip on her ar
m. “Then just humor me. No harm done.”
“No, none at all.” A quiet, partially crazed laugh burst from her. “Just hypothermia and frostbite.”
“Better than a bullet hole.”
At my cold-stone glare, she fell silent.
In less than four minutes, Branson showed up in a police cruiser but not wearing his uniform. Within a minute of Branson’s arrival, three other police cruisers pulled up and the officers ran toward us, guns drawn.
Katie and I sat on the antique sofa in the mystery room, some moving blankets we’d had in storage wrapped over our waists. We’d pulled the sofa about a foot away from the blazing fire. Watson had taken shelter underneath the sofa, and Branson paced in front of the bookshelves that made up the small perimeter of the room. “You’re certain it was a gunshot?”
“Yes, two of them.” I didn’t even hesitate. “There might’ve been more when we were falling toward the river, but I didn’t hear them if there were.”
“Fred, if there were gunshots, I would’ve heard them too.” Katie kept hugging herself and shivering, but her teeth had quit chattering.
Branson paused in his pacing to inspect her. His eyes narrowed as he lifted his walkie-talkie to his lips and told the officer on the other end to call an ambulance to come to the Cozy Corgi.
Katie glared at him. “I told you, I’m fine. I’m getting warmer as we speak.”
He shrugged. “Be mad at me later. I want to know that you’re both okay.”
A spark of irritation lit in me, but it was joined by an annoying sense of warmth at his demonstration of care. I turned back to the matter at hand and drew Katie’s attention away from Branson. “It was a silencer. If you didn’t know what you were listening to, you wouldn’t have heard it.”
The skepticism in Branson’s voice matched Katie’s expression. “You really think you would recognize the sound of a gun being fired through a silencer?”
“Yes. I’m a good shot. My father took me to the gun range all the time.” I didn’t leave any room for argument in my tone. “I think it’s the only disappointment he ever felt when I decided not to carry a gun. As a detective’s daughter, I have no problem with guns for protection, but they’re not for me. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t recognize what I heard.”
He opened his mouth, clearly getting ready to argue, when Susan’s voice came over the walkie-talkie. He answered it, then listened.
Susan reported they found one bullet in a thick branch of the bush that had been right by Katie, though they hadn’t found the other one yet.
After thanking her, Branson looked over at me. “You’re never wrong, are you, Winifred Page?” A smile played across his handsome face but faded quickly. “I’d be more impressed with that if it didn’t mean someone was shooting at you.”
“They weren’t shooting at me. They were shooting at Katie.”
I turned to find her gaping at me. “Someone was actually shooting at us?”
Apparently Katie was a few steps behind, probably still taking in what Officer Green had found. I placed my hand on her knee as I nodded. “Yes. But not us. They were shooting at you. I’m not sure why, but you were the target.”
She blinked a couple of times, but Branson didn’t give her a chance to respond. “How in the world do you know that? You were both there.”
I didn’t bother looking at him, keeping my attention focused on Katie. “I was coming back to invite you to a show my uncles have tickets for. Watson must’ve heard something first, because he started growling, and then I heard the first shot, and it hit the bush. That was the breaking of twigs you probably heard. That’s when I called to you and started running, and they shot again. Whoever it was obviously waited for you to be alone. Watson and I just happened to interrupt them. They were shooting at you, sweetie. Not us, not me.” I couldn’t imagine why that would be the case, but I needed Katie to understand, to accept it. If she did, then surely she’d also know why, or who.
Katie continued to shake her head, but didn’t speak.
I looked toward Branson, who was studying Katie with a narrowed and suspicious gaze. “Why would someone be shooting at Katie?” His green eyes flashed toward me. “You don’t make sense. Whoever killed Sammy is not liking that you’re poking your nose into things. Maybe that would be true for Katie as well, but you’re the one everyone talks about, not Katie. You’re the one who was asking questions around town yesterday, right?”
I waited for the sound of accusal to come next, ready to remind him that he’d given me the go-ahead, and even if he hadn’t, I didn’t need his permission, but it didn’t come. Finally, I nodded. “They weren’t shooting at me, Branson. They weren’t.”
Flashing lights illuminated the store from the front windows, and an ambulance came to a stop directly in front of the Cozy Corgi. For the next half hour or so, Katie and I were inspected, poked, and prodded.
By the time the medical professionals were satisfied, Susan had joined the clown-and-pony show that had descended upon my bookshop. When the ambulance pulled away, Katie and I were still blanketed in front of the fire, but now we each held steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Branson had made them in the bakery as we’d gotten the all clear from needing to go to the hospital.
“We found where the shooter was. In a tree about two hundred yards away.” As she spoke, Susan continued to glance my way, surprising me as she included me in her report. Though maybe she was simply making certain I knew that she could do her job. “Whoever it is, they’re not very good at this. Broken twigs and branches were everywhere. Not to mention footprints in the snow. More than likely, there’ll be something with their DNA on, a thread from clothing, some hair, something. We’ll keep looking, but chances will be higher in the daylight.” She gave an eyeroll that was so completely Susan it was almost comforting. “Not to mention that they missed that first shot. From that close, it shouldn’t be that hard if Katie was sitting still like Fred said.” She nodded in our direction. “You were lucky.”
Clearly feeling more herself, Katie had stopped shaking, though the way her hands gripped the mug, it wasn’t clear if it was more for warmth or simply something to ground her. “I wasn’t lucky. No one was shooting at me. At least not me specifically. There has to be some mistake.” She looked my way. “They must’ve thought I was you. Branson’s right. You’re the one someone would go after. Whoever killed Sammy wants to stop you before you get too close. Maybe when you were at the magic shop—”
“Mark did not do this.” Susan took a step toward us, and any atypical softness I’d thought I’d noticed before was gone. “This has nothing to do with his magic shop.”
Branson shot out a hand and gripped her shoulder. “Susan, calm down.”
She shrugged him off and pointed toward me, even though it had been Katie’s suggestion. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on my family.”
Susan, indeed the whole scene, seemed miles away, like I was watching it through foggy binoculars. Katie’s words had triggered an avalanche in my mind, thoughts of ice and snow rolling down a steep hill until they combined into one massive revelation that smashed against me.
Ignoring Susan, I angled toward Katie and felt a sense of terrible awe. “You’re half right. Whoever did this got the wrong person. But they didn’t think you were me.” My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips, replaying my theory quickly before I spoke aloud. “They thought Sammy was you.” As I spoke the words and they reached my ears, I was certain I was correct.
“What?” Branson and Katie spoke at the same time, and I glanced between their gaping expressions.
“Oh.” Susan froze in place and let out a small gasp, then looked at me. The aggression in her face evaporating, she nodded slowly. “You’re right.”
Of all the things that happened that evening, Susan agreeing with anything I said might’ve been the most shocking—attempted first-degree murder or not.
From the expression on Branson’s face, it seemed he agreed with my thought as he stared
at Susan in surprise. “You think she’s right?”
Susan glanced his way, and even in that moment offered up another annoyed roll of her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Unless we have two killers running around town, whoever murdered Sammy thought they were killing Katie. And really, who can blame them? The two of them were like freaky twins.” She turned slowly, her gaze traveling over Katie’s body. “They thought she was you. Tonight they tried to rectify their mistake.”
This time, both Branson and Katie were silent. After a few seconds, Branson began to nod, but Katie shook her head.
“I can see why you’d say that, and objectively, it makes sense. But no one’s trying to kill me.” Katie lifted her chin, and for the first time since falling into the river, her voice was laced with solid determination. “There’s no reason anyone would try to kill me.”
I cocked my head at her, though I didn’t mean to.
She looked my way, irritation flashing in her eyes. “What?”
Another realization hit. Not only was someone trying to kill my best friend, but Katie knew exactly why. Even so, I wasn’t about to say that in front of Branson or Susan.
Thankfully, Branson spoke up, saving me from having to reply. “Regardless of the motive, Katie, I think Fred and Susan are right. I’m sure of it. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Someone is trying to kill you.”
Katie shook her head more emphatically, but didn’t speak.
I tried to read her expression. Though we hadn’t known each other very long, I was fairly good at reading her moods. And even if some of her seemed startled and possibly afraid, more than anything, she looked angry.
“And if they tried twice, they’ll try again.”
Susan’s words pulled my attention away from Katie, and our gazes met. And for once, I didn’t feel any hostility. I nodded slowly, still looking at Susan. “You’re right. You’re totally right.”
Katie stood, using one hand to clasp the blanket tied around her waist, the other still holding a mug of hot chocolate. “This is ridiculous. And I’m not listening to it.” She focused on Branson. “Am I free to leave?”
Savage Sourdough Page 9