Breaking Steele Part 9

I went on, not looking Joshua in the eye. "I just think someone with more experience can handle this case better than me."

I swallowed. That wasn't the real reason. I knew it. They knew it. My fear clouded the room like a cloud. They just didn't know that I wasn't afraid of Hank Williams, I was afraid of myself.

Dan raised his eyebrows. "That's the first time I've heard any statement from you that was anything less than 100% confident."

I looked down. Was I being wise about this, or was I just admitting defeat? Either way, I was bone-tired of it.

"The safety of my employees is my number one priority," Dan said. He arranged the papers on his desk. "If you want off the case, you're off the case. Take a few days for yourself, relax and get your bearings. Come back on Tuesday. I'll give you a new case, something you can handle."

The words burned within me. My cheeks turned red. It was the first time I hadn't seen a case through to the end and it rubbed me raw.

"Joshua, you're still on it," Dan said. "I'm going to talk to a few people and see who's best for the job."

Joshua still looked at me as if he couldn't believe what I was saying. But he didn't know what was in me, what this case had revealed. It was breaking me. I wasn't going to wait for it to tear me in two.

Chapter 30.

SINCE HOME WASN'T SAFE, I wanted to spend my time at a bed and breakfast in the suburbs until Tuesday. That would keep me off the radar, and hopefully Hank's attention would shift somewhere else. I didn't know what I'd do if he was still terrorizing me when I got back home.

There was something I needed to learn before Tuesday.

I reached in my purse and took out the sticky note with Solomon's number. I stared at it for a long second and dialed.

"This is Solomon."

The voice on the other end of the line was deep and had a commanding air.

"h.e.l.lo, this is Sarah-Sarah Steele. I was referred to you by-"

"Yeah, I know who you are ... you know Monroe, right? He's a nut. Good detective, but a nut. He thinks everyone should carry a gun, that the world would be safer if everyone knew how to shoot."

That was exactly what I had thought about Monroe. I smiled. "Maybe the NRA pays him a little something extra each month."

"Well, aren't you a cynic," he said.

"No, I'm a lawyer."

He laughed. "What can I help you with? You're looking to learn how to shoot, I take it."

"Yes."

"You have a gun?"

"Yes."

"You know anything about it?"

"No," I said. "It's a Lady GLOCK. Uh ... I got it from my dad."

"Well, you got the right guy. I like teaching newbies. It's a challenge." I cleared my throat at his condescending tone. "Let's set up a meeting," he continued. "I can go over how I work, and you can tell me about your plans and what you want to get out of the lessons. Sound good?"

"Sure. I'm going to have to go on a lesson-by-lesson basis. I don't have much free time and my hours are very hectic." At least they had been before today.

"Well, watch yourself," he said. "Once you start shooting it's hard to stop. It's relaxing, in a weird way. And very satisfying."

The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I can see how blowing things up would be satisfying." I bit my lip. I never said things like that. Out loud.

But he didn't hesitate a beat. "It sure is. Can you meet Sat.u.r.day morning at eight?"

That caught me off guard. Tomorrow morning, it was so soon. But with a pang of sadness, I realized I had nothing else to do. Besides, the sooner I learned how to handle a gun, the better.

"That's pretty early. Do you provide coffee with the lesson?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "For you I will."

I wondered what he meant by that. Did he know who I was? I agreed on the time, he gave me the address, and we ended the call. Solomon sounded older and had this way of speaking that reminded me of my father. As if he was so sure of himself, never doubted anything, and would meet any situation with a grin.

Chapter 31.

I HAD TO STOP by Mandy's before I left the city. We'd texted throughout the day, but I needed to see her and catch her up on everything face to face.

As I pulled into her driveway I got a text from Angela's mom. "Is Angie with you?" it said. "Nope," I wrote back. This was a normal question for her. Angela often slept over at someone else's house without letting her mom know. She shouldn't do that to her mother but she was almost as stubborn as I was. I texted Angela. "You better let your mom know where you're at! Now!"

When I got inside, Mandy was in the shower but Rick was at the kitchen table with a deconstructed motorcycle engine in pieces before him.

"Having spare parts for supper?" I teased after giving him a side hug.

"They taste great dipped in grease," he said. He was one of the most popular real estate agents on this side of Boise, but he was another guy behind the walls of his home. He had on a white v-neck tee, and I could see his full tattooed sleeves and chest tattoos. Besides going to concerts with Mandy and hanging out with their bike gang, his hobby was reconstructing vintage motorcycles. He had a workshop in the back with every tool imaginable.

"Mandy said I was hanging out with the motorcycles more than her, so I brought the parts inside."

I smirked. "I'm sure that's exactly what she wanted you to do."

He frowned in consternation. "She didn't seem that pleased with it."

Poor guy. I hid a grin. Men were clueless.

Mandy came up behind me and tackled me in a hug. "You're here!" Her wet hair sprinkled my face with water.

Then she grabbed me by the shoulders, her normal reaction when she wanted to be serious. "Tell me everything."

I sat down, and in the simplest way possible, told her I was off the case. I was expecting her to be glad. After all, just a few days ago she begged me to quit. But she hesitated before she replied. "Are you sure that's what's best?"

Swallowing, I nodded. Which was a lie. I definitely was not sure. Doubt and shame plagued me.

She c.o.c.ked her head at me, her eyes wilted with compa.s.sion. "It's just not like you," she said.

"What?"

"It's not like you to quit."

I thrummed my fingers on the table. It wasn't quitting,it was backing off. Then I bit my lip, knowing I was lying to myself again. I had quit because I wanted to take Hank Williams down. Literally.

Mandy nodded as if something finalized in her mind. "Well, I'm glad you'll be safe. I hope he goes down one way or another, after what he's done to Heather and Tracy." She looked me over. "After what he's done to you."

I didn't want to talk about it. "I'm just looking forward to being my own person for the next few days. I have nothing to do. And I love it." It was another lie. I hadn't had free time since before law school and I had no idea what I'd do with myself.

"You're still going to meet us at The Ru tomorrow night, aren't you?"

"What?" Rick and I exclaimed at the same time.

"The Ru!" Mandy almost shouted, then she rolled her eyes. "Come on. Am I the only one who cares about getting a life? We're all going to the new club tomorrow, The Ru, remember? I spent a heckuva lot of time and money to get in and I'm not letting you flake on me now."

The Ru. I'd seen that somewhere ... my mind flew back to the meeting I'd had with Hannah Williams, in which she'd lied to me the whole time. She'd had a note on her desk that said RuSat 11. Would she be at The Ru on Sat.u.r.day?

"What time?" I asked.

"11:30," Mandy said.

Interesting. I might be there at the same time as Hannah Williams, might have another chance to talk to her and follow up on Heather's story. I didn't know what that meant to me, but the familiar curiosity that usually got me in trouble started to nag at me.

No. I couldn't think that way. The case was behind me and I couldn't get sucked into it. I'd go with Mandy, dance, have fun, and not give another thought to anyone with the last name of Williams.

"I'll meet you there," I said.

Chapter 32.

I DIDN'T ARRIVE AT the bed and breakfast until eleven that night. The whole drive there I resisted the urge to call Joshua and check up on the case. Had the police a.n.a.lyzed the evidence yet? Was any of Heather's story verifiable? Just so I wouldn't call, I hid my phone in my purse and blasted my music as loud as it would go.

I RUBBED MY EYES and slid out from under the warm blankets that piled up on my king bed. Checking the clock, I yawned and stretched. It was 4:30 a.m. I'd gotten four hours of sleep, which was more than I'd had in a long time.

The fan above me whirred, waving the stray hairs out of my eyes. Its chain clacked every few rotations. There was nothing for me to do. I just laid there and soaked up the nothingness.

For at least ten minutes.

That was all my body could handle before my mind strayed. I jumped out of bed, pulled on my running shorts, tank top, and shoes, and went for an hour-long run around the residential neighborhood. The view was so boring. One identical house after the other, as if they were drones lined up in a factory. That was a life I never craved. Something deeper stirred within me. I wanted more than to just settle down.

Unless, of course, it was with the right person. But I hadn't met that right person, and I wasn't even close.

Back in my room, I clicked on the TV and went to the kitchen to get my kettle boiling.

After the kettle was on, I undressed and got into the shower. I liked it hot, almost scalding. I let the water wash over my face and closed my eyes. This was my favorite place to think, to let my mind go and open up. There was just something about the sound, and the way a shower made me feel.

By the time I got out and drank my tea, it was almost time to leave for my shooting lesson.

I put on a cute tank top and my skinny jeans. I sprayed myself with body spray-coconut-and freshened up my makeup.

Grabbing my gun from the nightstand where I'd stored it, I raced down the stairs. I was getting excited. I'd always wanted to learn how to shoot but I'd never pursued the opportunity.

Chapter 33.

SAND HOLLOW WAS A sandpit where people could target practice and sight in before hunting season. It took about thirty minutes to get out there and my little Honda didn't like the last part, which was a dirt road.

Parking behind a nice Chevy truck, I got out and saw him. It had to be him, he matched the voice perfectly. He was standing backlit by the sun and had on dark aviators and held a handgun loosely at his side, as if it was an old friend. He was tall, and his shirt pulled tight against his ripped muscles. He looked like a gunslinger, like in the old west, someone who would strike fear in the heart of anyone who dared to stand against him. I shut my mouth. Geez, was I losing it or what? I needed to get out more. At the first sight of an attractive man I was getting warm all over.

I walked up to him, my boots crunching the gravel. He looked up and watched me approach.

"Hey," I said, "I'm Sarah Steele."

We shook hands. I tried not to look so impressed with his muscular physique, but I couldn't help but check him out.

"Sarah, so good to see you again." He smiled in this easy way, and had thick black hair and a trimmed beard. I did not like beards but somehow on him it worked.

At his words, my heart fluttered nervously. I looked down. "Again?" I asked.