Murder Under the Covered Bridge by Elizabeth Perona Read Free Book Online Page A

shooting at us, not William.”
    A chill went down Francine’s spine. “You’re right.”
    â€œWhy did they fire on us?”
    â€œBecause we could see what was happening to William?”
    â€œMaybe.” Charlotte stuck her head out the window. She looked toward the cornfield to the left and then the Rock Run on the right. “At one point the two rifles were firing almost simultaneously. But someone at that distance along the creek bank wouldn’t be able to see William in the cornfield, would they?” She pointed to a spot hundreds of yards upstream.
    Francine looked out the window, trying to judge the trajectory of the bullet that had hit the light stand. “I agree. They probably would have been out there where the creek makes a bend.”
    â€œWhy was the other person stationed there?”
    That didn’t seem like a difficult question. “Because they couldn’t be sure which way William would run out of the cornfield.”
    Charlotte gave a protracted sigh.
    â€œYou don’t like that answer?”
    â€œNo, it’s an okay answer. But the second shooter had a much cleaner bead on William. Yet he wasn’t hit.”
    â€œIf the second shooter wasn’t after William, what was he after?”
    â€œGood question. Was William sneaking out or sneaking in when he was discovered? If he was sneaking in, he might have surprised one shooter, but not two. Unless they knew he was there. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have had time to set up in two different locations. They would have both shot at William from the same direction.”
    Francine looked down at her short friend. “You’re getting at something, Charlotte. Just say it.”
    â€œI’m just theorizing here.” She limped to the spot in the bridge where they had done the photo shoot. “William ran toward this bridge. He must have done that for a reason, wherever he was coming from. Suppose it was our presence that surprised the second shooter? What was it we were seeing that he or she didn’t want us to see?”
    Francine took a moment to scan the immediate area looking for clues. The light around the window was better now that the sun was higher in the sky. She was so caught up in looking for clues she forgot they were on their way to the car to join Joy and Marcy. She was jolted back into the present with the noise of the horse and carriage entering the bridge.
    Jonathan hailed her from the carriage driver’s seat. “What’s keeping you two? Joy and Marcy are getting impatient.”
    Francine and Charlotte moved out of his way. Jonathan pulled up beside them and handed a book the size of a small paperback to Francine. She recognized it as the book he’d pulled out of William’s pocket. “I forgot to give this to the fireman,” he said. “I meant to give it to the detective, but by the time I’d finished his witness form I’d forgotten again. It fell out of my clothes when I tossed them in the back of the carriage. You might want to look at it before you do anything with it, though. If I read the first page right, it’s your grandmother’s journal.”
    Francine stared at the cover. She knew her grandmother had been quite the journalist. She remembered watching her write an entry once, using a loose-leaf sheet of paper as a guide to keep her penmanship level across the page. Francine had been seven at the time her grandmother passed away. She hadn’t seen any of the journals when the family went through her house.
    But what struck her about the book was the cover.
    â€œI know I’ve seen this graphic before,” she said.
    â€œOf course you have,” Charlotte said. “It’s a heart pierced by an arrow. There are probably thousands of them carved into trees all over Parke County. There’s probably fifty in the graffiti on this bridge.”
    â€œAs observant as you are, you haven’t noticed that