“Cash.”
Though Stone appeared to be oblivious of everything except the display of hunting knives, he was writing something down on a ragged piece of paper.
While the salesman wrapped her purchases in plastic, she edged over to see what he’d written down, but he pocketed it. “What are you looking at?” she asked.
He pointed at an evil looking blade, with a stunning scrimshaw handle. “It’s beautiful. Are you thinking of buying it?”
“Possibly. My father would like it, but it doesn’t seem quite right for an anniversary gift.” Stone shrugged. “Too bad Christmas is so far away.”
“My step-father would appreciate something like that, too.” She glanced around the store. Glassy eyes stared back at her. “He’d adore this place.”
“But you hate it.”
“It could be worse.” She grimaced at an old memory. “At least there isn’t a stuffed panther in here.”
Stone laughed and caressed her under the chin. The clerk handed her the wrapped package. When she made no move to take it, Stone did. “Thanks, Buddy.” Holding the cumbersome parcel in once hand, he put his other hand on the small of her back and directed her toward the door.
Ariel didn’t need any encouragement to leave. Once outside, she drank in the clean, fresh air while the cool air dehydrated the thin sheen of perspiration. She shivered.
“Want to head over to a rifle range and try this out?”
“I need to check on the roast.” Stone raised a brow. “You wouldn’t want me to burn your dinner, would you?” His expression suggested perplexity. “Perhaps we can go after dinner.” Stone’s skeptical look intensified. “Or maybe tomorrow or the day after.”
“Whatever works for you, but I’m gone on Friday.”
Ariel’s muscles loosened. “Thanks for helping me pick the stuff out.” She gestured to the package. She forced a smile. “Somehow, yours didn’t seem so sinister.”
“Why do you really want this?”
Ariel stopped halfway between the store and her Suburban. How much did Stone suspect? She shook her head and told herself that she had to stop being paranoid. “What do you mean?”
“I find it hard to believe that someone who can cry over a cat that’s been dead for – years – and hates guns so much that when she touches one, she nearly cracks her teeth gritting them together would want to be a member of the NRA, much less own a gun. So, I figure there has to be a damn good reason. And I don’t think it’s to scare bears. You can get a pocket full of firecrackers a whole lot less expensively and they’re lighter to carry around, too. So what’s the real story?”
“What’s the NRA?”
“National Rifle Association.” His tone was tinged with exasperation. “Quit changing the subject.”
“I filled out an application for that?”
He held up the package. “Is this to scare bears or kill your ex?”
“What!” Her knees felt weak. If Stone hadn’t grabbed her elbow, she’d have collapsed onto the uneven sidewalk. “How could you think such a thing?”
He scrutinized her as if reading her soul. “Never mind.” He used her elbow to propel her toward her suburban.
She stumbled against him. “Sorry.”
“I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I'd hate to become an accessory.”
“You really think I’m planning murder!” He stopped next to the driver’s door and dropped her arm. When her knees buckled, she leaned against the door. “For your information, I have never willingly killed anything except a bugs and I didn’t like doing that. I value life.” She enunciated each word precisely. “At one point in time, I'd hoped to become a doctor because I thought that I couldn’t aspire for anything better than living up to the Hippocratic Code. I still think it’s something to strive for.”
Stone’s expression softened and he caressed her cheek. “What happened?”
“You do not want to know.” Dear Lord, how could she have told him so much? With shaking fingers, she pulled her keys out of her pocket. “I don’t feel very well. Would you mind driving?”
He paused a moment, then took the ring, unlocked the doors and helped her into the passenger seat. It felt nice to have a handsome man act so solicitous. She’d miss Stone when they disappeared. It was good that she and Tempest were leaving because too often, she started daydreaming about a future with him that did not include his girlfriend, Dolly.
Stone backed the suburban out of the parking spot. “You must be stronger than you look.”
“Why?”
“This thing handles like a ton of bricks.”
“The bulletproof panels make it heavy. Mitch called it an urban tank.” She stiffened as she realized how much more she’d revealed.
“Is Mitch your ex?”
She shook her head. “He was my cousin’s husband.” It felt scary, yet good to tell him the truth.
“You used the past tense. Is he alive?”
“He passed, recently … What? Did you think he was a mobster or something?” Stone shrugged. “For your information, Mitch was a police officer with SLED.” Dear Lord, if she kept talking, Stone would have her entire life story. “I have a headache.”
“Worried about firing the gun?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” He looked at her with surprise. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes while he drove.
~0~
When Stone stopped at the first red light, he studied Ariel’s tense profile and the white lines around her lips. Maybe she’d told him the truth.
Maybe not.
Regardless, if someone had told him that he’d fall in love with a liar, he’d have told them they were crazy, but then he’d never imagined meeting someone like Ariel Danner. From the moment he’d first seen her with Mozart tangled in her hair, he’d started falling down the rabbit hole. He hoped that a Jabberwocky wasn’t waiting to ambush either or them. What had his emotions gotten him into and why didn’t he want out?
Stone didn’t like admitting the truth, but the fact that he loved Ariel Danner was as undeniable as the fact he could become an accessory to murder.
Could his conclusions about her be wrong?
Was there a valid reason for Ariel to avoid meeting his eyes? He could understand why Tempest dyed her hair the funky black and pink, but could it be part of the disguise he’d overheard them talking about? And why did Tempest keep calling her Sherry instead of Mama?
Could Sherry be a nickname? Heaven knew that after growing up with a mother who was obsessed with ancient cultures, particularly druids and defending the name Stonehenge on the kindergarten playground, he understood the need for pet names. His sister, Gaelic, otherwise known as Windy, might be correct about Cheri simply being a French endearment, which would be equal to Sugar or Honey.
Stone rubbed his aching temple. The light turned green. He accelerated and thought of the Suburban’s original owner. If Mitch had existed, had he been a good or bad cop?
While embroiled in thought, Stone parked the Suburban. Ariel opened her eyes, then straightened. “Did you like driving the Burb so much that you decided to keep it?”
Huh?
She gestured out the front windscreen. “Is there another reason why you parked in behind your own place?”
If he got the vehicle’s serial number, Windy could research it along with the other information he’d collected. “I was going to change the oil on Link’s truck and my Harley. I thought I'd change yours too. One mess to clean up and all that.”
She blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? You volunteered to cook dinner for my help and-“ He made a dismissive gesture. “You hardly spent any time choosing your shotgun. I figure I owe you.”
“But –“ She paused then smiled. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” She went into the house.
Stone got a pencil stub and scrap of blue paper out of his pocket, and then popped the hood and started looking for the engine number. Funny h
ow people forgot to change them when they scratched out the vehicle's number.
Chapter 16
Ariel looked out the window as she peeled potatoes and watched Stone drain the oil from his bike and Link’s truck with assembly line precision, until he reached her Suburban, then he spent an inordinate amount of time under the hood before she spotted the trickle of black liquid going into the pan. She shrugged off paranoid thoughts and told herself that he’d worked on the other vehicles, before, and it stood to reason that it would take anyone more time to find the spigot, or wherever oil drained from on an unfamiliar vehicle.
Ariel sliced cucumbers and tomatoes into the salad bowl while she wondered if she was being overly paranoid about Peter. She’d contemplated ways she and Tempest could assure vanishing without a trace a dozen times in the past five years, but she always seemed to overlook some dumb little detail. Having Peter after them was like getting away from Sherlock Holmes.
Stone’s muscles rippled beneath his cotton shirt as he reached deep into the Suburban’s engine.
Had Peter recognized them? Even if he hadn’t, did he realize they must have witnessed him murdering the other fisherman?
The world would be so much better without Peter. If only they hadn’t seen him in Deadhorse; then they would be safe here, for the foreseeable future.
Stone began adding new oil to the engines. No one had ever done anything so thoughtful for her.
Ariel folded a bed sheet in half, the draped it over the card table. She then placed the pot roast and other items on the kitchen counter and as she began setting the card table, she asked Tempest to tell Stone and Link that dinner would be served in ten minutes. Before the door closed behind her, Link arrived with a bottle of burgundy.
A few minutes later, Stone arrived, held up a hand, which had grease under the fingernails and headed for the half-bath. Tempest came in last, all smiles and bright eyes, and wearing telltale dog fur. She eagerly grabbed Link’s hand and pulled him into the living room. “We got Aunt Kelsey and Uncle Devlin a blanket for their baby. It’s so cool! See?” She shook it open. Mozart squawked. Tempest draped the hand-woven coverlet over a chair.
“That’s nice,” Link said.
Ariel sighed and reminded herself to tell Tempest that men weren’t interested in baby things.
Stone returned. Without even looking at the blanket, he leaned over to pick up a CD cover. “You’re learning Spanish?” Stone asked.
Tempest rolled her eyes heavenward and nodded. “This has to be the worst thing I’ve ever had to learn. My computer has this microphone thingy and I have’ta say the words into it. Well, that’s the sassiest program I’ve ever had to learn anything from. Nothing I say is right, even though I’m certain I’ve said it right.”
Stone and Link chuckled.
“Dinner is ready,” Ariel said as she handed each of them a plate and motioned them to serve themselves.
As they sat at the table, Link said, “Maybe Stone and I can help you.”
“You speak Spanish?” Tempest said.
Link fluttered his hand in a ‘sort of gesture’.
“Where I grew up,” Stone said, “it was almost the primary language.” Tempest’s brow furrowed. “I lived in Texas until the last few years.”
“You did? So you know where all the Mexicans cross the river and where they always get caught?”
Link chuckled. “It’s a really big state - there are lots of places like that.
Ariel’s stomach clenched. She frowned at her sister, but adopted a teasing tone. “You must be desperate for something to talk about.” Tempest’s eyes widened. Before Tempest could say anything more, Ariel turned to Stone. “I always forget how late it stays light. Would you like to give me that lesson while Tempest tidies up after dinner?”
He raised a brow. “I didn’t know you were that anxious.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not, but I figure the quicker I get it over with, the less time I have to dread it.”
Link grimaced. “You sound like you’re talking about going to the dentist.”
Wasn’t it interesting how people shrank from simple things? She could only hope that learning to touch a deadly weapon and learning to use it would turn out to be simple and eventually her phobia would seem laughable. All things considered, she needed to get past her fear of guns and learn to use them. The quicker, the better.
Stone drove the Suburban down a narrow dirt track, then parked next to a half-dead pine. Wild roses blooming under scraggly pine trees gave the area an oddly romantic feeling. The previous night, Ariel had dreamed of him holding her on his lap, as he had when they went camping, but now, as she prepared to grapple with the phobia she’d had since childhood, her spine stiffened at the thought of a tender interlude coming between her and independence from fear.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him raise his arm and turn in her direction. No! Her heart slammed against her ribs, as she dove for the floor. “Drop something?” She glanced behind her. Without pause, Stone reached into the back seat and yanked a small duffel bag into sight. He paused and gave her an odd look. She’d never felt so foolish. “When you find whatever your after, get your gun and the ammo.”
He got out of the car.
Heart still slamming against her chest, she raised her head until her eyes were over the dashboard. Without a backward glance, he strolled down the path toward the clearing. When he got to the sunlit area, he put his bag on a rickety picnic table, then finally looked back. Ariel felt like ducking back down, again. I will not give into fear. Instead, she slowly got out of the Suburban and opened the back door to get out her gun. She watched Stone open his bag, but instead of a blanket, he pulled out a thick magazine and a small translucent case. How stupid could she be? The man had a steady girlfriend, he didn’t need to make moves on her. Ariel took a deep breath, grabbed the gun and headed over to deal with her fear.
Something crunched beneath her foot. A glance down revealed brass casings of assorted sizes mingling with the gravel. She hopped on one foot, but then realized the entire area was sprinkled with bits of metal and in some spots were thicker than the rough gray pebbles. They are empty and cannot harm you. Ariel squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and didn’t allow herself another downward glance.
Treading lightly, she approached Stone, who was sitting on a weatherworn picnic table and flipping through a magazine featuring various types of yachts. She perched on the opposite end of the bench seat and looked around the clearing, which was a somewhat barren area within the ring of pines and wild roses. In fact the only oddity was the amount of metal bits on the ground.
“This is the rifle range?”
“Not what you expected?”
“It looks like a picnic area.” Or it had until she stepped on millions of bullets, now it looked more like a place where the monster would lure its victim. “I expected targets.”
He held up the magazine. “We brought our own.” She blinked. He grinned. “Photos work fine, and I didn’t think you’d like shooting at real targets that reminded you of – the past.”
“Thank you.” She put down the shotgun. “What should I do first?”
Stone tore an ad for Absolute Vodka out of the magazine, then handed it and a box of tacks to her. “Pin this up.” He gestured to a jagged stump on the other side of the clearing.
Finding spots firm enough to hold the pin was a challenge. When she finished, Stone had the shotgun and two boxes unwrapped. “Now, load your gun.”
She hesitated. “Which box are the blanks in?”
His incredulous look made her feel like her IQ was somewhat lower than a rock’s. “I’m here to teach you how to hit what you aim for. How can you know what you’re hitting with blanks?”
The flush burned her face. “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” He nodded, but it looked like he was trying to keep a straight face. “I should have asked which box the target rounds were in. Rounds is the correct term, isn’t it?”
&n
bsp; He started to laugh. Ariel’s jaw clenched. She turned on her heel and stalked toward a large patch of roses.
Something crunched behind her. She jumped. Stone touched her arm. “Sorry,” he said, then he broke into a full belly-laugh.
“What’s so hilarious?”
“You’re angry.” The man was Einstein. “I expected that you’d know more about weapons than you obviously do.”
“Why?”
He made a brusque gesture. “When you told me about your stepfather’s den and the hunting expeditions, I assumed you’d grown up knowing about guns. Forgive me?”
Since he looked contrite, she nodded.
He got serious. “Manufacturers make bullets and cartridges for specific purposes, but I don’t think any are exclusively for targets.” He steered her back to the shotgun. “You have a shotgun and proper term for its ammunition is cartridge.”
“Boy, I’m dumb.”
He shook his head. “Just uneducated about weapons.” He hunkered down and picked a reddish tube out of a box and handed it to her. “This is double-aught buckshot. It’s accurate up to twenty yards and is used to kill something the size of a wolf.”
Her stomach roiled at the thought of hurting such a beautiful animal. She dropped the horrid cylinder of death. Stone caught it in mid-air, and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “By itself, cartridges are no more lethal than pyrotechnics. It’s the human intent that makes the difference.”
“Like when we sing about bombs bursting in air and it sounds more like fireworks than a war.”
Stone nodded.
Ariel took a calming breath, and then grasped the cartridge. It didn’t feel lethal.
Stone caressed her under the chin. “Do you have any ideas about killing anyone?”
“No! Never! I only want to protect Tempest and myself.”
He studied her for a long moment. Until he relaxed, a moment later, she didn’t realize he’d been as tense as she was. Somehow, Ariel found that reassuring. Stone pointed to a red tube. “Inside the casing, there are nine thirty-two-caliber-balls. If any one of them hits your target, it’ll do some damage.” He handed it to her
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