The Edge of Hell: The Mitchell Brothers Series Book One

20

Two things became instantaneously apparent in the next five seconds, leading Wolstan to realize that perhaps he should have broached the topic of Ardella's demise differently.

First, Mae had one of the strongest grips he'd ever felt and was likely to break his right hand or, at the very least, a finger or two.

And second—the most crucial bit—he really should have led with after utter chaos broke out—"WE DIDN'T KILL ARDELLA," Wolstan shouted, startling everyone into silence. "She was already dead when we found her."

"That's what I said," Declan grumbled. His cheeks and nose were red with cold as he shoved his hands further into his coat pockets and limped up the veranda steps. "And let this be a lesson to you for the next time you send us over to be good neighbors to two of the worst we've ever had."

"The tornado?" Emmaline asked, clutching Emerson's arm as he led her into the house through the missing front door.

"Only if tornadoes have suddenly developed the ability to shoot guns, Mama," Declan quipped over his right shoulder, shivering.

Mae looked at Wolstan as he took her by the left hand and followed everyone into the house. "She was shot?"

Wolstan nodded.

"As if tornadoes weren't dangerous enough, now they're toting guns and firing at unsuspecting people," Declan said, taking off his coat, then putting it back on with a grumble. "It's colder than a witch's black heart in here."

"We thought it best not to start a fire until Anson finished checking the chimneys for damage," Mae absently replied.

Declan grunted.

"Although, you can't deny this particular tornado couldn't have chosen a better target," Emerson chuckled. "Had good aim, and it even managed to hit her five times."

"You can't be serious," Emmaline gasped, staring at the three men as though they'd lost their minds.

"About which part, Mama?" Declan asked.

She blinked several times, her gaze darting from Emerson and Wolstan before settling on her oldest. "The tornado shot her?"

"Dr. Gillis is of the opinion it is the only plausible explanation," Declan began as he shoved the sofa into its former placement in the front parlor. "Since he, and apparently all the citizens of Chattanooga, know Cyrus—Ardella's loving and most devoted husband—would never dream of laying a hand upon her in violence. Let alone shoot the helpless woman five times in a row while the two were caught in a rare moment of volatile passion."

"Rare?" Mae murmured, so low only Wolstan heard her.

"The two of them were like a pair of erupting volcanoes," Wolstan muttered in agreement.

Declan eyed the sofa, then scooted it to the right with his knee before nodding in approval and looking at Emerson and Wolstan. "Did I miss anything?"

"No," Emerson said, quirking a brow in admiration, "you repeated it near to verbatim."

"He said all that?" Emmaline asked, staring at Declan, Wolstan, and Emerson. "In front of you?"

Wolstan nodded. "And Sheriff Laverton."

Mae looked at Wolstan. "Where was Cyrus in all this? Is he dead too?"

Wolstan pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Now him," Declan said, planting his hands on his hips and looking Emmaline in the eye, "I did shoot and attempt to kill. But he deserved such treatment, and well you know it, Mama."