Page 104 of The Cottage on Plum Island
“Um…” Harriet handed him the gun. “It wasn’t my fault that Aunt Betty doubles as Dirty Harry, and I didn’t realize the kick on this relic from the Dirty Harry museum.”
“You have Betty’s gun?” Sam took the weapon and slid the safety on before sliding it into the waistband of his pants. “What’s Betty’sgun got to do with…” Sam’s eyes turned toward an unconscious Shannon.” He looked at Harriet in amazement. “You shot her?”
“Sheshot me as well,“ Jennifer pushed herself into a sitting position, tired of staring up at them from the ground.
“I didn’t mean to,“ Harriet growled, rubbing her shoulder. “Besides, that relic nearly took me out as well. I’m sure I dislocated my shoulder.”
“I thought you knew how to shoot?” Jennifer said.
“A normal gun!” Harriet stated. “Not that thing!” She pointed to the gun. “Shannon was right about it being from the Wild West.”
Sirens suddenly erupted around them as the police and an ambulance arrived. Harriet had shot Shannon through the shoulder, and when she’d fallen, Shannon had hit her head, knocking herself unconscious.
After the medic had patched Jennifer’s arm up and the sea of police, US Marshals, and the FBI left, Jennifer turned to Harriet with a grin. She couldn’t resist saying, “I guess Shannon wasn’t lucky after all.”
“That’s what you get for playing the odds against Dirty Harriet!” Sam laughed. “Are you ladies going to be okay?”
“We’re fine, Sam,” Jennifer assured him. “Have you heard from Harley and my fa… Andrew?”
“Yes, they managed to get to Andrew’s contact at the FBI, and the information is in the right hands,” Sam told them. “It looks like the three of you just took down an organization akin to a mafia one.”
Harriet and Jennifer watched Sam leave before heading inside. Jennifer went to her aunt’s wine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of merlot.
“I’m going to order takeout and drink wine,” Jennifer told Harriet. “Do you want to join me?”
She nodded. “Of course.” Harriet glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s only just gone nine. Why don’t we go out for dinner and try to salvage the last few hours of your birthday?”
“No. Let’s order in because I’m exhausted,” Jennifer said, pointing to her arm. “And I was shot.”
“Is this going to be a thing?” Harriet sighed. “Hello, I’m Jennifer, and this is Harriet. She shot me.”
“I like that.” Jennifer grinned, handing Harriet a glass of wine. “As it’s my birthday, you can order the takeout.”
“Fair enough,” Harriet agreed.
An hour later, they were eating dinner and going over the past few days’ events when Harriet pulled out two folded pieces of paper. “Now that you and Andrew are on the way to patching up your relationship,” she held up the letters, “are you ready to read these?”
Jennifer sighed. Those letters had been haunting her the whole day. She took a big sip of wine and nodded. “Why don’t I pour us some more wine, and you read them to me.”
“Are you sure?” Harriet looked at her questioningly.
“It’s not like you haven’t already read them,” Jennifer pointed out.
“I haven’t,” Harriet surprised Jennifer by saying.
“Really?” Jennifer looked at her, amazed. “You’ve had them since our botched break-in at the Newbury Port mental health facility.”
“I haven’t really had the time to read them,” Harriet pointed out. “And I wouldn’t have because they are not mine to read.”
“You are such a weird combination of sophistication, sarcasm, eccentricity, and decency.” Jennifer shook her head and then frowned when a thought struck her. “Why don’t you ever talk about your family?”
“I talk about my family.” Harriet took a sip of her wine. “But they’re not as interesting as yours and everyone else’s on this island.” She opened the letters. “Shall I read?”
“Sure,” Jennifer nodded, her eyes narrowing as she decided the next mystery to solve was why Harriet avoided talking about her family at all costs.
Dearest Jennifer, Nothing I can say or do will ever excuse the way I left your and Liam’s life. But it was a choice I had to make, and even though it nearly killed me, it is one I’d make again if I had to.
“Okay, stop!” Jennifer blew out a breath. “Maybe don’t read it. Rather rip it up and throw it away.”
