Riley began to show April what she needed to know next—how to put rounds into the cartridge, how to put the cartridge into the weapon, and how to unload it again.
Demonstrating, Riley said, “Now this weapon can be used in either single-action or double-action mode. Single-action is when you pull back the hammer before pulling the trigger. Then the gun takes over and automatically cocks the gun again and again. You can fire off rapid shots until your cartridge is empty. That’s the great advantage of a semiautomatic.”
Fingering the trigger, Riley continued, “Double-action is when you do all the work with the trigger. As you begin to pull, the hammer cocks, and when you finish, the gun fires. If you want to fire another shot, you have to start all over again. That takes more work—your finger is pulling against eight to eleven pounds of pressure—and the firing is slower. And it’s what I want you to do to get started.”
She pushed a button to bring the paper target to seven yards away from the booth, then showed April the proper stance and hand positions for firing, and also how to aim.
Riley said, “OK, your gun isn’t loaded. Let’s try some dry firing.”
As she had done with Blaine, Riley explained to April how to breathe—to inhale slowly while aiming, then exhale slowly as she pulled the trigger so that her body would be most still when the weapon fired.
April aimed carefully at the vaguely human shape on the target, then pulled the trigger several times. Then, at Riley’s instruction, she put the loaded cartridge into the gun, resumed her position, and fired a single shot.
April let out a startled squeal.
“Did I hit anything?” she asked.
Riley pointed to the target.
“Well, you hit the target, anyway. And for your first try, that’s not bad. How did it feel?”
April let out a nervous giggle.
“Kind of surprising. I expected more of a …”
“Recoil?”
“Yeah. And it wasn’t as loud as I’d expected.”
Riley nodded and said, “That’s one of the nice things about a .22. You won’t develop a flinch or other bad habits. As you work your way up to larger weapons, you’ll be ready to deal with their power. Go ahead, empty the cartridge.”
As April slowly fired the nine remaining rounds, Riley noticed a change in her face. It was a determined, fierce expression that Riley realized she had seen in April sometime before. Riley tried to remember …
When was that? Only once, she thought.
Then the memory hit her like a thunderbolt …
Riley had pursued the monster named Peterson down to a riverbank. He was holding April hostage, bound hand and foot with a gun to her head. When Peterson’s gun misfired, Riley lunged at him and stabbed him, and they struggled in the river until he pushed her head underwater and was about to drown her.
Her face surfaced for a moment, and she saw a sight she would never forget …
Her wrists and feet still bound, April was on her feet holding the shotgun that Peterson had dropped.
April slammed its butt against Peterson’s head …
The fight had ended a few moments later, when Riley smashed Peterson’s face in with a rock.
But she’d never forgiven herself for allowing April to be in such danger.
And now, here April was, firing away at the target with the same fierce expression on her face.
She’s so much like me, Riley thought.
And if April really put her heart and soul into it, Riley was sure that she’d become as good an FBI agent as she’d ever been—perhaps better.
But was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Riley didn’t know whether to feel guilty or proud.
But during the half-hour training session, April fired with ever increasing confidence and accuracy at the target. By the time they left the gun store and drove home, Riley was definitely feeling proud.
April was exhilarated and chatty, asking all kinds of questions about the training she had to look forward to. Riley gave the best answers she could, trying not to show her ambivalence about the future April seemed to want so much.
As they neared home, April said, “Look who’s here.”
Riley’s heart sank when she saw the expensive BMW pulled up in front of the townhouse. She knew it belonged to the last person in the world she wanted to see right now.
CHAPTER THREE
As Riley parked her own modest vehicle behind the BMW, she realized that things were likely to get very unpleasant in her house. When she turned off the engine, April picked up the box with the gun in it and started to get out of the car.
“Better leave that here for now,” Riley said.
She certainly didn’t want to explain the weapon to the unwelcome visitor.
“I guess you’re right,” April replied, shoving the box under the front seat.
“And don’t forget—don’t tell Jilly about this,” Riley said.
“I won’t,” April said. “But she’s probably figured out already that you got something for me, and she’ll wonder all about it. Oh, well, on Sunday you’ll be giving her a present of her own and she’ll forget all about this.”
Present of her own? Riley wondered.
Then she remembered—Sunday was Jilly’s birthday.
Riley felt her face flush with alarm.
She’d almost forgotten that Gabriela had planned a family party for Sunday evening.
And she still hadn’t bought Jilly a present.
Don’t forget! she told herself sternly.
Riley and April locked up the car and walked on into the house. Sure enough, the owner of the luxury car—Riley’s ex-husband—was sitting there in the living room.
Jilly was in a chair across from him, her stony expression showing that she wasn’t the least bit happy to have him there.
“Ryan, what are you doing here?” Riley asked.
Ryan turned toward her with that charming smile that had too many times weakened her resolve to shut him out completely.
He’s still handsome, damn it, she thought.
She knew that he went to a lot of trouble to look that way and spent many hours at the gym.
Ryan said, “Hey, is that any way to greet family? I am still family, aren’t I?”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
The tension was palpable and Ryan’s expression turned to one of disappointment.
Riley wondered—what kind of greeting had he expected?
He hadn’t even been to see them in about three months. Before that, they had made an attempt at reconciling. He’d spent a couple of months more or less living here, but he’d never completely moved in. He’d kept the comfortable house he had once shared with Riley and April before the separation and divorce.
The girls had been happy to have him around—until he lost interest and wandered off again.
The girls had been crushed by that.
And now, here he was again, out of the blue and without warning.
The silence continued to hang in the air. Then Jilly crossed her arms and scowled.
Turning to Riley and April, she asked, “Where did the two of you take off to, anyway?”
Riley gulped.
She hated to lie to Jilly, but this would surely be a bad time to tell her about April’s gun.
Fortunately, April said, “We just had an errand to run.”
Ryan looked up at April.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said. “Don’t I get a hug or something?”
April didn’t make eye contact with him. She just stood there shuffling her feet for a moment.
Finally she said in a sullen voice, “Hi, Daddy.”
Looking like she was about to burst into tears, April turned around and trotted up the stairs to her room.
Ryan’s mouth dropped open.
“What was that all about?” he said.
Riley sat down alone on the couch, trying to figure out how best to handle the situation.
She asked again, “What are you doing here, Ryan?”
Ryan shrugged.
“Jilly and I are talking about her schoolwork—or at least I’m trying to get her to talk about her schoolwork. Have her grades been slipping? Is that what she doesn’t want to tell me?”
“My grades are fine,” Jilly said.
“So tell me all about school, why don’t you?” Ryan asked.
“School’s fine—Mr. Paige,” Jilly said.
Riley cringed, and Ryan looked wounded.