The gun roared. Madeline felt an icy sensation on her left thigh but she was already in motion, the framed picture gripped in both hands.
The leading edge of the frame slammed into Patricia with Madeline’s full weight behind it.
Patricia screamed, stumbled back, lost her balance altogether, and went down hard on her rear. The gun fell to the floor. Daphne went after it.
Madeline slammed the picture downward. Patricia threw up an arm to ward off the blow. Glass shattered.#p#分页标题#e#
“You murdered both of them,” Madeline shouted. A volatile cocktail of pain and grief and rage splashed through her in hot waves. She slammed the steel frame down hard on Patricia’s upper arm and shoulder again and again. Blood flowed. “It’s because of you that Grandma and Tom are dead. It’s your fault.”
“No,” Patricia got out. Shock and panic blazed in her eyes. “No, stop. Stop. You’re crazy.”
She tried to scramble out of the way, but she was trapped between the wall and the end of the ancient couch. Madeline moved in for another blow with her steel weapon.
“Maddie, stop,” Daphne yelled. “That’s your blood. Stop.”
The frame was snatched out of her hands before she could strike.
“That’s enough,” Jack said gently. “I’ve got this now.”
She stared at him through a haze of fury and grief and pain.
“Jack,” she whispered.
“I know you want to kill her, but trust me, it’s better if you don’t,” he said.
She thought about that, trying to make sense of it. Jack eased her away from the sobbing Patricia.
“Okay,” Madeline said finally. “Okay.”
“Shit,” Jack said. “Daphne is right. Most of the blood is yours.”
She looked down and saw that the denim on her left leg was soaked with blood.
“Oh,” she said.
The room started to spin around her.
Jack scooped her up and put her down on the sagging sofa. He clamped a hand over the bleeding wound and pressed down hard.
“Hurts,” she said.
Jack ignored her complaint. He pressed harder.
One of the cops—it had to be the chief, Madeline decided—looked at an officer.
“Get the first-aid kit, Mike,” he said. “Then get an aid car out here.”
The officer slammed out of the cottage.
Daphne peeled off her jacket and crouched beside the sofa.
“I can handle this, Jack,” she said.
Jack hesitated and then, seeing that she had created a makeshift pressure bandage with her jacket, he moved aside.
Madeline looked up at Jack. His eyes were very fierce.
“You got my message,” she said.
“The idea of you making homemade corn bread with sour cream was enough to make me very nervous,” he said.
She nodded, satisfied. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
Daphne kept up the pressure on the wound. “How are you doing, Maddie?”
“It hurts like frickin’ hell,” Madeline said. “Oh, God, Daph, I thought she was going to kill you.”
“But she didn’t. You saved my life, Maddie.”
“I did?”
“Yes, you did. You saved both of us, in fact. I was terrified.”
“Just like I was the night you saved me. We’ll both be okay, though.”
“Yes, we will be okay.”
“Secret sisters forever and all that stuff, right?”
“Forever,” Daphne said.
Madeline gave up trying to fight the spinning universe and the pain. She slid into the night.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
“It’s hard to believe that the corn bread recipe was what made Tom start to wonder if Ramona really was his granddaughter,” Madeline said. “After all, he wasn’t much of a cook. I’m surprised he even noticed the secret ingredient in both recipes.”
“My guess is that he had probably picked up several small clues along the way but had tried to ignore them,” Jack said. “Posing as a long-lost relative is a tricky con. Hard to stay in character over time.”#p#分页标题#e#
They were gathered in Madeline’s hospital room. The hospital was in Seattle. She had been airlifted off Cooper Island almost immediately after the shooting. Jack and Daphne had followed in the rental car. They had made it to the hospital just as Madeline was coming out of surgery. Neither had left her bedside during the night. Abe had flown in from Phoenix early that morning.
The surgeon had assured everyone that the wound would heal well and leave an interesting scar.
“I’ll bet Ramona messed up several times,” Abe said. “But that recipe might have been the final touch. What were the odds that the new Mrs. Travis Webster had exactly the same secret ingredient in her corn bread recipe?”