by Erin Dutton
Panic crept in, making her heart race and her stomach twist painfully. Maybe she couldn’t do this. She numbly followed Charlie to an empty lane, searching for an opening should she want to back out.
Charlie picked up one of the paper targets and began securing it to a frame on a pulley down the middle of the lane, so it could be positioned as close or far as the shooter liked. Maggie stared at the image on the target, the shape of a man standing partially behind a woman. One of his arms was wrapped around the woman, restraining her, and in the other hand he held a gun. Targeting circles painted the bodies and head areas of both figures, so they bore only a faint resemblance to actual people. But for just a moment, Maggie saw herself in the woman’s place and Carey Rowe as the perpetrator. Her breathing quickened, and her chest tightened. The air in the room felt heavy, and the gunshots around her made it hard to focus on calming down.
Charlie glanced over her shoulder and froze, then glanced back at the target. She ripped the paper down and folded it in half. “Maggie, I’m sorry.”
Maggie shook her head, trying to chase away the edges of the parking garage and the snarl of Carey Rowe’s voice.
“Hey, we can go back outside, if you want to.”
“No.” She needed to defeat this fear. She was safe here, and she shouldn’t run from the memories just because they were difficult. “Give me a second.”
Charlie held up another target. “How about zombies?”
Maggie laughed at the cartoon zombie that filled the page. “Sure.”
Charlie secured the target, then pushed a switch on the wall that sent it zinging away from them until she stopped it halfway down the lane. She set out the Sig and a box of bullets and showed Maggie how to load the gun, reminding her to always keep it pointed down range.
“Okay?” Charlie paused with the weapon in her hand, sighted on the target, seeking Maggie’s permission before firing.
Maggie moved behind Charlie, then nodded, and Charlie gave an answering bob of her head. She returned her attention to the target, talking while she did about how to use the sights on top of the gun to aim. Though she didn’t move, something in her posture changed, an alertness, just seconds before she fired two quick shots. Maggie jumped, even though she’d said she was ready. The spent shells that ejected had landed near Maggie’s feet, and two holes ripped through the center zombie’s chest. Charlie laid the gun on the counter in front of her.
“You good?”
“I am. You’re a good shot.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice. Do you want to try it?”
She did. She’d expected fear and felt a trace of that, but she experienced a jolt of anticipation as well.
Charlie moved to the side, letting Maggie occupy the center of the small space. “Pick it up. Finger off the trigger.”
Maggie did, carefully. Was the gun that much heavier loaded than it had felt empty? Or did she imagine the added weight, knowing the bullets were there? She grasped the pistol with both hands, like Charlie had shown her, and aimed at the target.
“Firm grip, but don’t choke it.” Charlie was beside her, with one hand on the center of her back and the other on her left arm. She guided Maggie’s down a little, which reminded her to look at the sights on the top of the gun instead of haphazardly aiming at the target. “Squeeze the trigger evenly. Don’t jerk it.”
Her heart pounded so loudly, Charlie could probably hear it. Her arms trembled, partly from nerves and partly from adrenaline. She stared at the pistol she held for what felt like a very long time. Come on. Squeeze, don’t jerk. The gun bucked in her hand with a flash of fire and a wisp of smoke at the end of the barrel. She set it down and fought the urge to jerk off her glasses and earmuffs. Charlie had already warned her that the noise and pressure from shots in a neighboring lane would hurt her ears without protection.
“You okay?” Charlie asked.
She nodded. “Did I at least hit the target?”
Charlie held down the switch until the target swept up to them. She fingered a hole that touched the edge of the zombie’s left shoulder. “You grazed him. Not enough to stop a zombie, I’m afraid. Do you want to try some more?”
“I think I have to. I can’t leave here knowing I’m useless in an apocalypse.”
* * *
Maggie exited the range door and pulled off her earmuffs and glasses. She followed Charlie upstairs to the counter, where she handed over her safety equipment. At Charlie’s direction, she went into the ladies’ restroom and washed her hands. When Charlie had showed her how to reload, gunpowder had transferred from the magazine to the pads of her fingers. Shooting was dirty business.
In the parking lot, Charlie stowed her backpack in the trunk of her car, then nodded toward the Mexican restaurant across the street. “Want to grab some dinner?”
Maggie glanced at her phone, and seeing no missed calls or texts, she accepted. She hadn’t heard from Ally since her text the previous night telling her not to come over. She’d spent her Saturday morning cleaning her apartment and pretending she wasn’t waiting for at least a text from Ally. Then, seeing the card from the woman at the gun shop on her fridge, she’d decided to see about getting a lesson. She’d been lucky to run into Charlie and now expected to enjoy a nice dinner with her.
Leaving their cars in the parking lot of the gun shop, they crossed the street. The restaurant wasn’t busy, so they were seated quickly and soon had a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa on the table between them.
“Thank you for the tutoring session,” Maggie said.
“Not a problem. I enjoyed it. How did you feel about shooting?”
“Um—I have mixed feelings. It was intimidating and quite scary. But empowering, too.”
“I can understand that.”
The waiter placed two glasses of water in front of them and took their orders. After he’d left, Charlie rested her forearms on the table and leaned in.
“Gun ownership isn’t for everyone, Maggie. I know officers who recommend it to all victims they come in contact with. I don’t make a blanket statement. You need to consider a lot of things.”
“Such as?”
“Your safety and that of any family members in the home. You don’t have kids, so that simplifies that point. You should think about your comfort level handling a gun. You could definitely find other ways to make yourself safer and increase your awareness of your surroundings. It’s a very personal choice. And while I agree with the laws that make it so, just because someone can own a gun doesn’t mean they should.”
“I have some thinking to do first, I guess,” Maggie said. “Once the trial’s over, I should have a better handle on how to move forward. Will you have to testify?”
“Probably not. If you remember, I was at the scene, but only because I caught the call-out. I had a full case load, so after your initial interview, I handed the investigative part off. Detective Graves will be in court. And the officers that arrested the defendant.”
Their food arrived, and for a few minutes they ate silently. Maggie put a tiny dent in the huge taco salad. Instead of a bowl shape, the salad had come in a large fried shell shaped more like a canoe and nearly the size of a small boat.
Charlie set her fork down and swiped her napkin across her mouth. “Hey, I’m sorry again about that target. I like to practice with that hostage one because it gives me the added challenge of where not to shoot. I didn’t even think about it triggering—”
“It’s fine, really. I was already struggling a little before seeing the target. I need to work through this stuff.”
“Are you talking to anyone?”
“Like a professional?”
Charlie nodded.
“No. I’m not against it as a concept. But I’ve tried therapy for other things before, and I didn’t find it super helpful. I don’t think it’s the answer for everyone.” Maggie used the expression Charlie had about guns, and Charlie grinned in response. “I’m not stuffing my feelings. In time, I’ll work t
hrough everything. I’m still figuring out what makes me feel safe.”
“Are you talking to any of your friends?”
“Um, my closest friend, Inga, not so much.” She thought about Ally and wondered how to explain that relationship. “But I have been sharing with someone.”
“That’s good.”
“You might not think so when you find out who it is.”
Charlie raised her brows and waited.
“Do you remember the woman from the courthouse lobby?”
Charlie nodded.
“She’s Carey Rowe’s sister.” When Charlie’s expectant look didn’t change, Maggie went on to explain how they’d met before knowing who each other was. She didn’t go into detail about their current situation, simply saying that they’d been talking and hanging out.
“And you trust her enough to discuss the case with her? You know that legally, nothing stops her from telling her brother or his lawyer anything you say.”
“I do trust her. But spending time with her isn’t about the case. If we talk about it, it’s more about feelings. Besides, she has as much to lose as I do—at least her brother does. I could tell the DA anything she tells me.”
“True.” Charlie’s expression was still cautious. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to socialize with her. Ultimately, she’s going to side with her brother, don’t you think? He’s family.”
Maggie had gotten the impression that Ally disapproved of Carey’s decisions. She’d purposely not let Ally say much about him. But it seemed he’d been burning bridges in the family before the robbery.
“Do you have any siblings? You’ve got that protective-older-sister thing down pat,” she asked.
Charlie smiled. “Hazard of the job probably. I’m actually the youngest of three. Two older brothers.”
“How nice. I always wanted a brother.”
“Only child?”
Maggie nodded.
“Are you close to your parents?”
Maggie shrugged. She’d always had a healthy parent / child relationship with her folks, but not so close that she told them everything. After her father passed away, her mother had moved to a senior-citizen community outside Indianapolis, where her sister, Maggie’s aunt, lived. The first couple of years had been rough, and only in the last two had she started to make friends there and get involved in activities. Maggie hadn’t even told her about the robbery, not wanting to add to her stress.
“When I was younger, I’d have gladly given you one of my brothers. But we’re very close now. One is a police officer and one a firefighter.”
“So being a hero just runs in the family.”
“I guess so.”
Charlie paid the check, waving off Maggie’s argument, but she did let Maggie leave the tip. Then they walked back to their cars together. As night fell, the air grew only slightly cooler, but much more humid.
“I had a good time today,” Charlie said as she opened Maggie’s car door for her. “If you want to do it again some time—well, you have my card, right?”
“I do. Thank you.” She hesitated with her hand on the door, half in and half out of the car. “Is it okay? Are you allowed to be friends with people you meet while working? I mean, is it a conflict of interest?”
“Now you’re worried about your inappropriate friendships?”
“Okay, smartass.” Maggie laughed and slid into the driver’s seat. She rolled down the window. “Maybe I’ll lose your number.”
Chapter Thirteen
Monday afternoon, Ally hurried around her house, picking up discarded clothes and the glass she’d used to finish a bottle of wine the night before. Maggie would be here in ten minutes. She’d had all day to prepare, but she’d gotten distracted that afternoon working in the garage.
She stuck a stack of mail, mostly bills that she’d get to later, in a drawer. She opened a new bottle of her favorite sweet, red wine. Her tastes weren’t sophisticated, but she drank what she liked. After pouring two glasses, she left them on the counter to retrieve later.
Her doorbell rang as she was folding the throw for the back of the sofa. She let Maggie in, moving back to give her space to enter. Maggie paused and gave her a peck on the cheek. When she made a move to continue into the living room, Ally slid an arm around her waist and gently steered her back for a hug.
She smothered the urge to apologize for blowing her off Friday. She’d already done that via text Sunday morning, while also admitting that she’d missed her. She’d helped a friend move on Saturday, then spent Sunday taking a much-needed lazy day. She’d wanted to see Maggie Sunday, but the shadows of Carey’s visit still lingered. He’d asked her for support, and she didn’t know how to give it to him while still following her heart. And she had no doubt that her heart was involved, whether she could admit it to Maggie or not.
So she’d stretched out on her sofa and binge-watched a zombie-apocalypse series Kathi had been raving about. It’d been good enough to keep her attention, but not a new favorite show.
“How was your day?” She took Maggie’s coat and hung it on of a row of hooks by the door.
“Long. Incredibly long. And it’s only Monday.”
“Is it too early for a glass of wine?”
“Is it ever too early?”
Ally grabbed the two glasses from the kitchen and handed one over.
“I’m so glad you texted yesterday.” Maggie rested on the arm of the accent chair and sipped her wine.
“Yeah?”
“Sure. I couldn’t have known it then, but getting my hands in the dirt will be cathartic today.”
“Right. Well, that’s what I’m here for.” Ally hoped she managed to hide her disappointment. In the next breath, she chastised herself for being so needy. This was not her norm, and she didn’t like it one bit. She turned, intent on heading for the garage to distract herself.
Maggie grabbed her hand as she went by. She bent and set her wine on the coffee table, then tugged Ally closer. She cradled Ally’s face in her hands and kissed her softly. “I missed you terribly this weekend. And it’s a little scary to admit that.”
Ally didn’t ask why it was scary. She knew. They’d promised to keep this light, and Maggie’s words hinted at something delightfully heavy—something that made Ally’s chest ache with the desire for it to be true.
“I really should get in the backyard, before I change my mind and decide to drag you into your bedroom.” Maggie placed her hands flat on Ally’s chest, her fingers curling against her collarbones.
“I wouldn’t complain one bit.” Imagining Maggie shoving her down on her bed, Ally tightened her thighs to dampen the heat building between them. Too late, she realized that Maggie felt her muscles tense where their legs pressed together.
“You okay, there?”
“All good. Though I can think of a few ways I could be better. Maybe we could explore them in that bedroom you mentioned.” Ally slid her arms around Maggie’s hips and buried her face against her neck.
“God, I want you.” Maggie’s voice shimmered with desire.
“Me too.” Ally drew in a steadying breath. She felt like Maggie was on the edge, and with only a nudge from her, they’d give in and tear each other’s clothes off. But she wouldn’t push. She’d promised Maggie control, and though she might be walking funny for the rest of the night, she’d keep her word. “Maggie?”
“Yeah. I’m—um—I have to go outside.” Maggie eased free, catching her hand as they backed up and releasing it slowly, their fingers sliding against each other until she was out of range.
“Maggie, no.”
Maggie smiled then, a flirty, teasing pull of her lips that said she knew exactly the effect she had on Ally and she loved it. “The garden is calling, love. I’ll come find you when I’m finished.”
Ally stood in the archway between her living room and dining room and watched Maggie go out the back door. Good God, she was already so close to finished. Ally had reacted immediately when Magg
ie voiced her desire to take her to bed, and every teasing word that followed had only pulled at the thread until Ally thought she’d certainly unravel. They were going to be combustible together, and Ally had no doubt it would be worth the wait.
But for now, she needed to find some other way to burn off some of this energy. Her body hummed, and if she held out her hands, she was certain they’d be trembling. She dismissed the idea of heading to the garage. Power tools were not a good idea when she was this distracted. The treadmill in her spare room, the one that doubled as a guest room and office, would tire her out, but the idea of running and going nowhere was too symbolic right now.
A series of knocks on the door simultaneously saved her from deciding and made her heart race, too. She knew those knocks. They were made by tiny fists. On her way to the front door, she calculated her odds of not answering and acting like she wasn’t home. Her SUV and Maggie’s Prius in the driveway spoiled that idea for her. Instead, she’d open the door to two little cuties and whichever mom accompanied them today.
With her hand on the knob, she paused, looked up at the ceiling, and whispered, “Please be Kathi.”
* * *
Her tiny prayer was answered as June and Grayson spilled into her house, followed by Kathi.
“Hey, kiddos. What a nice surprise.” She scooped June up into a hug. Grayson, having recently decided he was a big boy and didn’t do hugs anymore, gave her a high five as he walked by.
She squeezed June once more, catching the tropical scent of the fancy shampoo Dani used on the kids. Cruelty-free, GMO free, dye-free, and all-natural fragrances. Grayson had experienced milk sensitivity as a baby, and since then, Dani was very careful about what they were exposed to and what they ate. Ally didn’t think either kid had even had a glass of Kool-Aid.
