“I’m good. Thanks for not asking me anything.”
“Oh, that was just a reprieve. I have many questions, you can count on it.”
“Mm-kay.” I closed the door and sneaked in the back of the Crosshair Gun Shop, which was probably not my finest moment, considering it was a gun shop and everyone in the place could kill me from a hundred yards without so much as blinking an eye. But the classroom in the back of the store was where Noni held his concealed carry workshops.
The door to the classroom was open, and I found myself relieved he’d let Cookie in on such short notice. The class was full up with about twenty-five students. Normally, he didn’t allow more than fifteen or so.
“I understand,” Cookie said to Noni. “I do. But I just don’t know if it would be that easy, no matter the circumstances.”
I sneaked in the door and stood against the back wall.
Noni nodded at her. He had a medium build with thick black hair and olive skin. He owned a local body shop, but was also a gun expert and had taught gun safety for more than two decades. “Then you’ve taken everything from this class that I hoped you would. It’s not easy. No matter what the circumstances are, pointing your sidearm at someone, pulling the trigger is not nor should it ever be easy.”
Cookie stared absently, a thousand miles away. Something Noni said before I got there had her thinking, and that was always dangerous. I’d have to warn him next time.
“What if,” she said, her voice faltering before she caught it, “what if your best friend is being tortured in the apartment next door by a man who’d just put a gun to your daughter’s head?”
My lungs seized. I didn’t tell Cookie that part, the part about Earl Walker putting a gun to Amber’s head, until a few days ago. I hadn’t known how to tell her, and I didn’t deal as well with the whole torture thing as I’d wanted. How could I have expected any more from Cookie?
Clearly Uncle Bob had told Noni about that night. He didn’t seem surprised in the least. He leaned forward and locked gazes with her. “Then you aim straight.”
“What if, even if I’d been there, I couldn’t have pulled the trigger?” Her voice broke and I felt the weight of her sorrow from where I stood. It was almost more than I could bear.
“Cookie, that’s a decision you have to make before pulling your sidearm. I have a feeling you could’ve done it, given the circumstances.”
I started to step out of the room. Pain consumed me. Stole my breath. Watered my eyes. Not at the memory, but at the knowledge of how deeply that night had affected my best friend.
“And would you look at what the cat dragged in.” Noni had spotted me the moment I stepped into the room, but made it sound like I’d just arrived. I was grateful.
I smiled as everyone turned, offered a hesitant wave. “Just checking on my employee. You know, making sure she didn’t skip class. Or kill anyone. She’s been known to do that.” Cookie looked back at me, surprised at first, then self-conscious. She had absolutely no reason to be. “Oh, not kill anyone,” I corrected. “She’s never done that. But she’s a pro as skipping. She has a ribbon.”
“This is one of my former students, a PI who moonlights as a consultant for APD.” Noni waved me to the front. “I bet she has some stories to tell.”
I pulled my mouth into a grim line as I walked up for a hug. He knew darned well I had stories. Uncle Bob told him everything. Then I let my left dimple show through and turned to the class. “Actually, I do have a story about an incident that happened during my class with Noni. We were all out at the firing range and this woman walked up wearing a skintight sweater, and Noni almost shot off his —”
“Oh, you,” Noni said, interrupting. He wrapped an arm around my neck and put me in a headlock. Then he scrubbed his knuckles on my scalp. “This one likes to fib,” he said, laughing off my whimpers of dismay. “I’d like to thank you all for being here, and I’ll get all this paperwork in. You should have your permits in a couple of months.” Everyone got up to leave, but Noni didn’t dare let go of my head. He really didn’t want that story getting out. It’s not like he actually hit anything. Thank god, because if he had, he would have had a lot of explaining to do to his wife.
“Coming to check on me?” Cookie asked, averting her gaze.
“Yes,” I said from between my scrunched cheeks. Noni was shaking hands and answering a few last-minute questions. “I was worried you’d run after the drop-and-roll incident.”
She laughed softly and picked up her bag. “This was a good class. You were right.”
“Told you.”
“And I have no idea what you were talking about,” she said, turning to leave. “Noni’s not a complete fanatic.”
Oh, crap. Noni’s grip tightened, and I felt the knuckles of death on my head again. Everyone was right. I’d never paid attention, but they were absolutely right: Payback was a bitch.
13
If it weren’t for physics and law enforcement, I’d be unstoppable.
—T-SHIRT
Outside the gun shop, I explained my text about Kim Millar to Cookie. Flabbergasted would be my best descriptor of her reaction. But I told her my plan, and she agreed with me. It was worth a shot. So, twenty minutes later, I found myself knocking on Kim’s turquoise door. And knocking. And knocking. I could feel her inside, but she didn’t want to answer. Her guilt thickened the air, gave it an oppressive texture.