Seconds to Live(73)
“Then what’s bothering you?”
She tucked the sheet over her breasts. “I blew off my pistol qualification last week.”
Mac waited, patient as always, making her feel like one of the wild animals he studied.
“Every time I pull the trigger, I flinch.” Stella flung a hand over her head. “You know about the shooting back in November?”
“Not all the details.”
“The suspect fled, and I shot him. The bullet struck him in the arm, but it didn’t stop him. He went on to do terrible things. He killed two cops. Your sister and Brody almost died.” She smoothed the edge of the sheet against her skin. “If I had stopped him, none of that would have happened. Those two cops would still be alive.”
“You cannot possibly think any of that was your fault.” Mac shifted closer and took her hand. “There is only one person responsible for their deaths: the shooter.”
“My brain knows this, but my heart sees the police chaplain on the doorstep.” A tear slipped from her eye. “Just like when my dad died.”
Mac pulled her into his arms. Holding her against his chest, he stroked her hair. “You know you’re being completely unreasonable. The mayor gave you a medal for your performance in the shootout.”
“How do you know about that?” Stella lifted her head.
“I might have been keeping tabs on you.”
“From the jungle?”
“I didn’t say it was easy.” He brushed the tear from her cheek. “But you’re worth it. I ran all the way to South America, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
She rested her head on his chest. Just being in his arms helped. “I’ll see the shrink, but I still have to get through my qualification.”
“Have you been to the range?”
“Not lately. The cop crowd there makes me nervous. I feel like everyone is staring at me, even though they’re not,” Stella said. “I know this is all in my head.”
Mac glanced at the clock. He stood, taking Stella’s hand and dragging her to her feet. “It’s five o’clock. Grab a shower. I’ll make coffee.”
“Where are we going?” Still groggy, Stella headed for the bathroom. She turned on the spray to let the water warm up.
Mac was sending a text. “Firing range.”
“Who are you texting?”
“Hannah. No one makes shooting more fun than she does.”
“It’s not even light out.”
“She gets up early.” His gaze darkened as he scanned her from head to toe. “It’s a real shame, but I guess you’ll need clothes.”
“I keep a bag in the trunk of my car.” Crime scenes were rough on her wardrobe.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the dirt and gravel parking area. Hannah was waiting.
Stella eyed the building. Nerves swam through the coffee in her belly.
“Trust me.” Mac got out of the car to greet his sister.
Dressed in jeans, boots, and a Syracuse University T-shirt, Hannah didn’t look like a hotshot lawyer. She opened her trunk and unlocked a portable gun safe. She palmed a handgun, and handed Mac one.
Stella looked over Mac’s shoulder. The box contained additional handguns and rifles. “What is this?”
“The Barrett family arsenal.” Mac picked up a magazine and a box of bullets. “The Colonel took his weapons very seriously.”
“He must have.” Stella faced the concrete bunker-type structure. No signs gave away the building’s purpose.
Mac opened the door. “This is a very private club. Mostly former military types. For the retired set, it’s half firing range, half social club.”
Fluorescent lights brightened the reception area.
“Mac! Hannah!” A giant, ridiculously fit man of about sixty vaulted over the counter. The overhead lighting gleamed off his bald head. He slapped Mac on the shoulder. “Hannah practices regularly. Where the hell have you been?”
“Around,” Mac said. “You know I prefer a blade.”
Craig lifted Hannah off her feet with a hug. A wide grin split her face as she returned the embrace.
Mac gestured to Stella. “Craig, this is Stella.” He didn’t provide her last name or occupation, which she appreciated. She wanted to remain low profile.
Her slim hand disappeared in Craig’s as they shook, and she didn’t miss the older man’s quick, approving wink.
Mac put a hand on her back. “Craig served with the Colonel. We’ve been shooting here since we could walk.”
“Maybe before,” Craig said. “I heard the Colonel passed. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Mac studied the cinderblock wall for a few seconds before gesturing with his handgun. “I need to figure out if I can still shoot this thing.”