Over Troubled Water: A Hunter Jones Mystery Read Free Page B

so much as she does with you,” Hunter said. “Once I started going out with Sam I guess she assumed I was being looked after. And then when Taneesha lived there, she had Jeremy around there all the time.”
    “So I need to get a boyfriend,” Mallory said, laughing.
    “And then she’ll start worrying about when he’s going to propose,” Hunter said.
    “All things considered,” Mallory said. “It was sweet of her to call. We do have a crazy shooter out there.”
    Flannery’s ears suddenly pricked up. She let out a little whining sound and was up and running toward the back door.
    “That’s got to be Sam,” Hunter said, smiling and pushing herself up to a standing position. “Flannery knows the sounds of our cars.”
    The Sheriff of Magnolia County was tired and frustrated. He had seen dead bodies and bicycles scattered on a bridge, put up with the posturing of a publicity-hungry district attorney, and sent his second-in-command to try to deal with a young husband who had kicked furniture and swung at people. He had shot a water moccasin that slithered into the crime scene area below the bridge and made it through the day on adrenalin and junk food. He had overseen a search that turned up nothing except two empty black plastic trash bags.
    Finally, he had only been able to give his community reasonable assurance that it was safe to drive on Sumter Road and that the people who lived along that road could come back to their homes. His shoes were covered with red clay and his head hurt.
    But now he was home. His dog was trying very hard not to jump for joy, his wife hadn’t gone into labor while he was gone, and there was most of a pineapple upside-down cake on the kitchen table.
    He tried smiling and discovered that he still could.
    Hunter’s phone and Sam’s rang simultaneously later that evening. It was a recorded message from the Magnolia County Board of Education announcing that all schools would be closed on Wednesday due to parental concern over the shooting on Sumter Road.
    Sam called Superintendent of Schools Rob Tucker at home and learned that board members and principals had been flooded with calls about school security.
    Some of them thought the schools should have gone into lockdown as soon as the crime was discovered, and some parents were offering to come and guard the schools with their guns.
    “Of course,” Tucker said. “The other 90 percent are probably going to think we’re over-reacting, and even the ones who agree are going to complain that we didn’t notify them soon enough.”
    “It’s not a problem,” Hunter said when Sam was off the phone. “Bethie can come to work with me.”
    “No, let me call Mom,” he said. “She’ll be glad to have Bethie, and you’re going to be busy. We need to keep things simple.”
    “How long are they going to keep the schools closed if this guy just disappears?” Hunter asked, “I mean if he had wanted to shoot up a school, why wouldn’t he have done that instead of creeping up on a bunch of people on bicycles?”
    Hunter realized that she knew something Sam didn’t. She approached the subject cautiously.
    “You know they were practicing,” she said. “Getting ready for that big Cycle Georgia event that’s coming through in a few weeks?”
    “Yes,” Sam said, “Aaron Twitchell said he’d seen them before.”
    “Did you know that the gym’s website has the route and the schedule posted,” she said. “Anybody could have known they were going to be crossing that bridge at that time this morning.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Sam said. “That could be useful. Do you know anything else I don’t know?”
    “Annie Chapman’s son is weird,” Hunter said.
    “Everybody knows Andy Chapman is weird,” Sam said.
    “When his sister got here,” Hunter said. “He refused to let her come into the house, so she’s staying at Hilliard House.”
    Sam’s eyes were closed.
    “Let me guess,” he said. “Robin Hilliard called