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I feel it everywhere.
“Will that work?” he asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say. I’m having a hard time finding my voice. “It’s fine. ” The skin under his thumbs burns like it’s been painted with fire.
His eyes are still on mine in the mirror, like he’s waiting for something. Some signal I’m too scared to give him. Bishop lifts his hands and steps away from me. “I’ll go start dinner. ”
I nod. “Okay, I’ll be right there. ”
Once Bishop is gone, I walk to the bed on shaky legs and sink to sitting. I press my palms hard against my closed eyelids. I can still feel the weight of Bishop’s hands on my shoulders, the memory of his thumbs against my neck. I remind myself what his father’s done. What he is still doing. But Bishop’s touch is gentle, his intentions good. No matter how hard I look, I cannot find the blood on his hands.
Trying to find the right time to approach Victoria is an art I’m still mastering. She is not mean or spiteful, but she can be curt if she’s preoccupied or believes that her time is being wasted. It doesn’t generally bother me because Callie is the same way. Most of the time I manage to not take it personally.
We’re grabbing a quick lunch in the small courthouse cafeteria, when I think I may have an opening. I’m picking at a slightly stale turkey and cheese sandwich, while Victoria speeds her way through a chicken salad. Her selection looks better than mine.
“So,” I ask, “has David worked here long?”
Victoria shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. He’s been here as long as I have. ”
I pinch off a tiny piece of turkey but don’t eat it. “Do you think it’s weird for him, having a gun and everything?”
“And everything?” Victoria asks with raised eyebrows.
“I just mean, most people aren’t comfortable with weapons, since there aren’t many around. ”
Victoria takes a bite of salad and chews it before answering. “He seems pretty comfortable to me. ”
I give what I hope sounds like a normal laugh and not some crazed cackle. “Yeah, I guess so. ” My sandwich is hopeless, so I wad it up along with the paper it’s wrapped in. “Is that his gun or does he get it here?” I am sure she can see my heartbeat pulsing through my shirt.
“He gets it here. Work issue,” Victoria says. She is answering my questions easily enough, but her eyes are sharp on mine.
“What, do they have a stockpile hidden away somewhere?” Again with the laugh that’s not quite my own.
“Why so curious?” Victoria asks, putting down her fork. “I didn’t know you were interested in guns. ”
I shake my head. “I’m not. Well, I mean, maybe I am a little. I’ve read about them in books, but I haven’t ever really seen one. You know…forbidden fruit and all that. ”
My answer must make sense to Victoria because she picks her fork up again and stabs at a chunk of chicken. “You’re not the only one who feels that way. Half the men who work here are constantly begging David for a chance to hold it. ” She snorts. “I could make an inappropriate joke about over-compensating, but you’re too young, so I won’t. ”
I laugh, and this time it’s genuine.
“But David’s careful with his gun. As he should be. Only a select few people are trusted with them. And Ray…I don’t think you’ve met him yet?”
I shake my head.
“His job, for as long as anybody can remember, has been to keep the weapons safe and in the right hands. ” Ray must have been the older man I saw in the gun room with David.
“So I’m guessing Ray and David aren’t going to be taking me out for target practice anytime soon?” I ask.
Victoria smiles. “Doubtful. The person you should be talking to, if you’re really serious, is your father-in-law. ” She points at me with her fork. “Ray’s in charge of the guns, but President Lattimer’s in charge of Ray. ”
“That’s a good idea,” I say, my heart rate picking up. “Maybe I’ll ask him. ” I’m not sure exactly where to go from here. I can’t think of a way to get the code from David or Ray that won’t give everything away, and I have no idea where, or even if, they keep a record of it in the courthouse. But Victoria is probably right. The person who would undoubtedly have the information is my father-in-law. I think of his study and his big walnut desk. I’m sure it holds plenty of secrets.
“Ready?” Victoria asks me. She is already standing, her empty salad bowl in hand.
“Sure. ” I scramble to my feet, tossing my sandwich into the trash can.
“They’re being put out this afternoon,” Victoria tells me as we leave the cafeteria. “We need to get everything ready. ”
