Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 66
As he walked over to the cardboard target, he said, “Give me one, too, wouldja?” I fetched the pack and lighter again, handing them to him after he threw the target in the back of the truck. He lit a cigarette and puffed on it. “Sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”
“Never. I think about the closest I’ve ever been was playing with squirt guns as a kid.”
“This ain’t no toy, Rascal. Be careful, okay?”
“Okay.” We smoked in silence for a bit, leaning against the truck as if we had nothing but time. Finally, I asked, “Hypothetically speaking, if I had to use this on a person, where would I aim?”
His eyes shifted to mine, but I couldn’t read him. “To kill or just disable?”
I blew out a lungful of smoke, hoping my face was like granite. “To kill.”
His jaw clenched before he spoke. “You wanna aim for the forehead or the chest. Anywhere else is iffy.” Tossing the cigarette into the dirt, he crushed it underneath his boot. “It’s a bad idea, Rascal.”
“Justin, you don’t know what I’m going to do. You’re just assuming.”
“I think I got a pretty good idea.” I, too, dropped my cigarette butt on the ground and slowly moved my shoe back and forth on top of it. Suddenly, Justin’s hands were cupping my face. “Don’t do it, Randi.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Then his lips were on mine, and I kissed him back forcefully. In that moment, I had no idea what I could or couldn’t do. When our lips parted, I kept my eyes closed. I breathed, “I’m not going to do anything.”
When he finally spoke, his voice was as quiet as mine had been. “Do you want me to do it for you?”
“Justin, I’m not going to do anything. Okay? I just want to…forget it.”
His arms tightened around me. “So you’re not mad at me anymore?”
I couldn’t help the small smile that formed on my lips. “How could I ever stay mad at you?”
“If you hadn’t gotten your way, I wonder.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Might be true, though.” And then, as if nothing had happened, he picked the box up and opened the driver’s side of the truck, setting it on the floor in the middle. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
Once he’d started driving back the way we came, I asked, “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the road and drove like he had somewhere to be.
As long as the trip had taken to get there, it seemed to take even longer to get back to Winchester. And even though Justin turned the heater on in the truck, the cold in my bones had settled in.
Would I ever feel warm again?
Chapter Twenty-four
By the time we arrived back in Winchester, it was like I was on autopilot. No longer thinking or feeling, I simply went through the motions. After I left Justin’s apartment, I drove home as twilight was descending on our town.
Somehow, I’d shut my brain off. I wasn’t thinking consciously, and maybe that had made it easier to lie to Justin.
And even myself.
Once I got home, I walked through the dark house to my bedroom, the box still wedged underneath my arm. Then, in my bedroom, I flipped the light switch and sat on the bed. After loading the magazine as Justin had shown me, I removed my clothes and searched in the closet until I found a turtleneck and jeans, both black. Fishing around the floor in the back of the closet, I discovered an old pair of black sneakers I never wore anymore but hadn’t ever justified discarding. After dressing, I went to the kitchen and heated up a can of soup, sipping it—but the feeling of ice was still deep inside my body.
I needed a drink—but the whiskey bottle rested in the trashcan, as empty as I felt.
That meant that what I was about to do I’d do stone cold sober. I went in the utility room and smoked a cigarette as I summoned my courage. Then I put my jacket on, wedging the loaded gun in my purse before walking out the door.
In the van, I turned up the radio, hoping it would drown out my thoughts. It was dark outside now, and the shadows helped me feel stronger, hidden by the night. Already, kids in costume roamed the sidewalks and crossed the streets, making the drive to the other side of town slow. Maybe doing this on Halloween was a bad idea, considering there were crowds of kids everywhere. The neighborhood I drove to was no different—except for one thing.
Fewer streetlights.
And that wasn’t a bad thing at all. Slowly, I drove around until I found the particular street I’d been searching for. Thanks to multiple illuminated porch lights, it was easy to find the address I’d been looking for, but I kept driving, planning to park farther away. Then, for several minutes, I sat in the car and smoked, once again trying to conjure up the courage I would need. Moments later, as I walked down the sidewalk, I passed a group of three children dressed as a ghost, a pirate, and a football player.
This part of town wasn’t as busy with kids as mine had been.
As I approached the house, I noted that it was nice—not too big but larger and nicer than mine. The small walk up to the door was edged with small stones and what was probably a well-manicured lawn in the summer. As I got closer, I took in every detail—the porch light replaced with an orange bulb, luminaries with jack-o-lantern faces decorating the path to the door, and even a large spotlight in the yard highlighting a “witch” who had flown and crashed into the maple tree.
Of course.
This was probably his favorite holiday, what with all the young innocent girls coming to his door without having