“Yeah, I know. Miss Conley, what is your honest opinion of what happened last night? Did Jimmy Moran shoot your father?”
Dawn turned and walked to the railing of the porch; she leaned a shoulder against a post.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” said Hashknife kindly.
“Oh, I know,” she said softly. “I don’t want to answer that question.”
“All right, this one is different. Did you hear two shots?”
“Yes.”
“How far apart?”
“Possibly—oh, I don’t know.”
“Right together?”
“Oh, no. There was one shot just after Dad opened the door. I—I think I ran almost across the room before the other one was fired.”