A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy Wheeler (most read books of all time .TXT) 📕

and glanced around. She was the only one left in the room. Her sisters must have signed already. She cleared her throat. “Of course, Mr. Guthrie.”

After signing the necessary paperwork, she escorted the Guthries’ to the formal parlor, just another massive, rarely used expanse at the manor. Old Simon stopped to visit with Theo Vance, the pharmacist, and with Dr. Max. Simon the son cornered the doctor’s nurse, Della.

A sideboard hosted a variety of foods from fruits to fresh seafood and home-baked breads, available to all and sundry. Hence, half the township of Stone had turned up. Jo did her best to appear as if she was casually strolling rather than rushing over to the hearth to get away from the younger Simon.

She took in the scene around her. It was quite the farewell celebration for their mother’s brother, Uncle Victor. Jo still couldn’t quite resolve her resentments of Eleanor and Victor and their lying to her about Bobby being her real father. It was like a flesh-eating bacteria that gnawed at her.

Lydia meandered over, holding two loaded plates, and handed the second one to Jo. “You need to eat something. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat a single thing the whole time we’ve been back on the island.”

Jo took the plate. The smell of the shrimp wafted up, nauseating her. One of the kids Esther had hired for the event wandered by with a tray. Jo set her plate on it before she keeled over, shooting Lydia an apologetic smile.

Tevi showed up with two glasses of champagne, one of which Jo gladly accepted. “You need to eat more, JoJo.”

“So I’ve been told.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to Uncle Victor’s continued success in the afterlife.”

Tevi raised her glass and clinked it against hers. “Hear! Hear!” She sipped, blinking rapidly. “Hey, did you hear boy-Simon might be moving back to the island?”

“Hope the good folks of Stone keep an eye on their little girls,” Jo muttered. She took another, healthier, sip. It hit her stomach hard, and her head even harder. “I’ve been thinking…” She glanced around then leaned in. The other girls followed suit. She lowered her voice. “I’ve been thinking about who could have shot Victor. It occurred to me that Wallace Hayes had a good reason to kill him.”

“Why would he do that?” Lydia asked. “Mother didn’t receive anything from the will.

“He didn’t know that,” Jo shot back. “None of us knew the details before today.”

“That’s true,” Tevi said. She drummed her fingers against her glass. She looked at Jo. “I think you may be onto something. I can certainly picture Wallace shooting Victor. Hell, I felt a shock of rage myself in that room. It’s clear someone murdered him.”

“It’s pretty difficult to pass off a gunshot to the chest as an accident.” Lydia huffed out a frustrated breath. “I can’t believe Victor is forcing us to live here. I cannot stay on this island. I have to get back to the Sentinel.”

“You mean newsworthy stories don’t just fall into your lap?” Tevi jabbed.

Lydia glared at Tevi in response.

“Come on, Lyddie. She’s teasing you. Lighten up,” Jo said, though she, herself, was furious.

“I can’t believe the two of you,” Lydia said through clenched teeth. “Your comments are so…so glib.”

“Ever the arbitrator, eh, Lydia?” Tevi taunted her.

“Frankly,” Jo bit out, her face on fire. “Victor has placed me in an untenable position. Forced to live in the same house as Jackson? Jackson, for God’s sake. Uncle Victor knew things. How dare he.” She clutched the flute between her fingers so tightly it was a wonder the stem didn’t snap. Rage-fueled adrenaline coursed through her body. Victor had no right.

“Jo,” Lydia hissed, scanning the area. “Calm down.”

“Don’t! Don’t tell me to calm down.” She tossed back the whole content of her glass, sending the bubbles almost through her nose, and leaving her in a coughing fit.

“Sorry.” Lydia inhaled deeply. “It’s just—well, this isn’t the time and place to talk about this.”

“Not the right—”

Tevi sipped at her champagne, her gaze shifting between her and Lydia. “She’s right, JoJo. We do need to talk about it, but now is not the time. The whole town is here.”

Jo surveyed the room. Clusters of people scattered about were enjoying Victor’s last parting. Some even edged closer to the sisters in a not-so-subtle attempt to eavesdrop. Fine, they were right. And it wasn’t like any of the four of them had any place else to go or even any choice in the matter. If any of them didn’t abide by the will’s terms and live in the house then they all lost their inheritance. Jackson’s well-being may mean nothing to Jo, but she didn’t quite feel the same antipathy for her sisters.

Jackson sauntered over, one side of his mouth curled in a sneer, and one eye slightly blackened. “Well, what do you say, cousins? An interesting turn of events, huh?”

Jo studied Jackson, really studied him, covertly, of course. He reminded her of a sullen child who clamored for attention. With his father’s death, that attention would never again be forthcoming. An odd realization trickled through Jo. It took her a moment to identify it: lack of fear. She didn’t fear Jackson. It was a stunning, freeing sensation. At least, in the moment, with the parlor full of people and all.

Another pang hit just then. One of hunger.

Outside Montgomery Manor, darkness had fallen, and noise from the assembled guests filtered to Wyn. He gazed up at the lighted windows. He hadn’t heard the final terms of the will. Nor did he care one whit about what Jo had or wouldn’t have. Leaving her back in that room when he’d dragged Hayes out made him feel as if he’d abandoned her.

Wallace Hayes was a danger to her. He didn’t know why, he just knew it the same way he knew how deeply his feelings for her were rooted. Still, he feared the gap between he and Jo was widening into a chasm too