Goody Goody Gunshots Read Online Free

Wyatt? He wasn’t here. I was. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not making things up, and I’m not overreacting.”
    Jawarski hadn’t exactly been smiling, but his expression sobered immediately. “I never said you were making it up, Abby, but you have to admit it’s a little strange that we can’t find any sign of foul play. If the guy was shot the way you say he was, seems like we’d find something. ”
    “That’s what I think,” Wyatt said. “There’d be blood, signs of a struggle . . .” As if he was suddenly an expert in crime scene investigation.
    I growled at both of them and headed once again toward the place the body should have been. “Maybe the guy with the limp was standing farther from the side of the road than I thought at first.”
    Jawarski grabbed my arm and hauled me back to stand beside him like I was nothing more substantial than a rag doll. “Just stop right there, Abby. My guys’ll do the searching. They don’t need your help. Besides, if there is evidence in that patch of weeds, I don’t want you destroying it.”
    When he’s not playing cop, I like the fact that Jawarski’s bigger and stronger than I am. Just about any woman packing more pounds than she likes would feel the same way. But he was working, and I resented being manhandled. I jerked my arm away and put a few more inches between us. “You’re going to have them search, even though you don’t believe me?”
    “Lighten up, Sis,” Wyatt snapped. “He never said he didn’t believe you.”
    “Not in so many words, but I can see it in his eyes. Are you humoring me, Jawarski?”
    “I wouldn’t waste taxpayer dollars,” he said, as if that was supposed to make me feel better. “I’m just suggesting that maybe someone was pulling a joke,” Jawarski said. “Is that possible?”
    “Some joke, pretending to shoot someone in the chest.” I leaned against the bed of Wyatt’s truck and thought over the chain of events again. “It’s possible, I suppose,” I admitted grudgingly, “but who’d do something like that? And you didn’t see the look on that poor man’s face. He was terrified of something.”
    “Okay, then,” Jawarski conceded. “Tell me more about him.”
    I sighed in frustration. “I’ve told you everything I remember. He looked short for a man. I’m guessing maybe five four. He was dirty, and his clothes looked like he’d pulled them out of a garbage can.”
    “What about his hair color?”
    “Dark. Eyes the same. If he had any distinguishing marks or scars, I couldn’t see them under all the dirt.”
    “You’re sure the limp was real?” Wyatt asked.
    “I can’t be one hundred percent certain, but yeah, I think it was.”
    “And you’re sure he wasn’t limping because of the run-in with your car,” Jawarski said.
    I shook my head again. “No. I’ve been over and over that since it happened. I didn’t hit him, but I came close. I’m sure the limp wasn’t caused by me.”
    “And you didn’t see the shooter at all,” Jawarski said.
    “I didn’t see the shooter at all.”
    “If you had to guess, where would you say the shots came from?”
    I closed my eyes, relived the moment for the hundredth time since it happened, and pointed toward a grove of trees on my right. “If I had to guess, I’d say the shooter was hiding in there.”
    “You didn’t see or hear anything unusual?”
    “I didn’t hear anything, see anything, smell, taste, or feel anything unusual. I didn’t even realize there was anyone else around until I heard the shots.”
    “And when you heard the shots? What happened then?”
    Even though I understood why he asked, the questions were starting to wear on me. I kneaded my forehead with my fingertips and went over the same ground for the umpteenth time. “He was running in that direction,” I said, indicating a tangle of brush across the street. “I heard the shots, and he sort of stopped and then dropped. He just crumpled to the ground like a