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“What are you waiting for? It’s getting dark.”
I pull the trigger, emptying the clip.
“Don’t focus on the noise or the kick,” he says. “Focus on your target.”
Once I’ve emptied a few clips, he takes over. I watch as he hits the targets he’s lined up at the other end of the fence post. All center mass shots.
“I thought you hated guns.”
“Nah,” he says. “That’s just something I say back home. Otherwise my father would have us all captive for hours, going over every facet of his collection.”
“I thought you said no guns in the house.”
“I did. It’s better not to go ar
ound advertising what you’ve got. The fewer people that know, the better. My father taught me a lot of things. But his enthusiasm for showing off…well, that part we don’t agree about.”
I cock my head to one side and then the other. “I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me you took the gun? Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost?”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Work’s been hectic—life has been hectic. And we haven’t exactly had time to come and do this.”
“So?”
“No point in having a firearm, sweetheart, if you don’t know how to use it.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I try Lucy’s cell five times on the way home, and our landline twice. Each time, I get no response. Finally, I call Mr. Crowley and ask him to go over and check on things. Greg steps on the gas, knowing it will take the old man forever and a day just to cross the street.
When I hang up, Greg’s face is set, and his brow is creased. “Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”
“The police.”
He mulls it over, his jaw muscle giving a familiar twitch. “Let’s wait for Crowley. The last thing we need right now is to look like irresponsible parents. Or to scare them if the cops show up.”
“She probably didn’t charge her phone. You know how teenagers are.”
“Or she’s on it,” he says. “Wait. I thought she was at least twenty.”
“Something like that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Mooney is in the hospital. I doubt this has anything to do with him.”
I try Lucy’s cell again. Once again, it goes to voicemail. “I don’t get it.” I shift in my seat. “This whole thing, these past few weeks—they feel like a dream.”
“More like a nightmare.”
“Yeah. But there’s something I can’t figure out…it just doesn’t make any sense.”
“What?”
My thoughts shift. “Wait. First, what did you mean when you said we’d kill them both?”
“Nothing.” He glances over at me. “Just that after the video…well, I think we ought to defend ourselves from another attack.”
“How?”
