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CHAPTER 45
KIMBERLY
WHAT THE—” KIMBERLY ARRIVED AT the stone chamber first, the sheriff on her heels. Somewhere behind them, Keith and Flora still labored through the tunnels.
It took Kimberly a moment to absorb the scene. The secret doorway was now partially blocked by the giant oak table. And propped up against the doorframe was Franny, her pale blue sweater covered in blood. She was gripping her right shoulder. Then she saw the sheriff and promptly moaned.
“Sheriff, Sheriff, please help. That Yankee detective went crazy. She shot me.”
Kimberly ignored the woman, picking up the fire poker that lay at Franny’s side. She made out blood and a blond hair.
She turned to Sheriff Smithers, pointing to the single hair in the room’s dim light. His expression was equally grim.
“Franny,” said the sheriff sternly. “What did you do?”
“Why, nothing at all. I was just standing down here, waiting for your return, and the detective, I swear she went a mite wild—”
“Bill Benson’s dead.”
“I shot him myself,” Kimberly volunteered.
Franny paled. Her lower lip quivered.
The sheriff shook his head. “You did this, Franny. You and Bill. Why?”
The woman looked up. “I’m just a mom, Sheriff, doing whatever it takes to protect my son.”
“Told you so,” Kimberly informed the sheriff.
Just as bang, bang, bang. Gunshots. From the hallway.
“You got her,” Kimberly ordered the sheriff. Then she was sprinting out of the room, .22 in hand.
