Honor (16 page)

She got out of her car and looked into the near distance at the shooters who stood in a row, ear and eye protection worn per Hamill rules, their feet apart in braced stances as they fired off rounds at paper targets. Kenzie headed for the shop.

Norm Hamill smiled broadly when he saw her come in.

“Kenzie! Nice to see you.”

“Hi, Norm. It’s been too long. You look great.”

He did, in a bearded, ball-capped, wrinkled way. He was a character and always had been.

“Liar. But thanks.” He rested his hands on the glass cabinet in front of him, its shelves neatly laid out with various small items. “What can I do for you?”

“Jim sent me to pick up the gun you repaired.”

“Of course. It’s done. Good as new. I e-mailed him the specifics so you don’t have to remember them.”

“Good.” She smiled back. “I don’t think I could. Life’s been crazy.”

“Oh? Why is that?” But Norm didn’t wait for her answer. Another customer stepped up to the counter and Kenzie realized that he’d been waiting since she walked in.

She moved aside to let him talk to Norm. A black, very interested nose appeared where the proprietor had been standing and sniffed. Kenzie leaned over and saw the rest of Beebee, a black Lab she’d trained for guard duty, wriggling with happiness.

The dog put his enormous black paws on the glass and rose to give her an enthusiastic welcome. Kenzie laughed and took hold of his collar. “Get down, Beebee. That’s not allowed and you know it.”

Obeying her, Beebee dropped to the floor and trotted around until he was on the customer side of the case and next to her.

He sat, motionless and solid as a boulder.

“That’s better.” Absently she stroked his big head while she looked at the contents of the glass cabinet. There was a selection of folding knives, and next to that, a tray of enamel tiepins in the shape of fish.

Leaping trout. Fighting muskies. She made a mental note to buy one of each for her father’s upcoming birthday. He’d like them and her mother wouldn’t shudder.

Kenzie’s gaze moved to a wall plaque of a proud stag with antlers out to here, surrounded by a harem of adoring does. Definitely man stuff.

She wondered idly if Linc had anything like that around his house and decided that he probably didn’t. He had an outdoorsy look, though—he just wasn’t ridiculously macho.

“Sorry, Kenzie. Let me get you what you came for,” Norm said to her before heading to the back room.

“Thanks.”

He returned with a classic army-issue pistol in one hand and its removed barrel in the other. Then he set both on the counter and reached into a shelf she couldn’t see, puffing when he straightened up with Jim’s gun case.

“Don’t know why this got put down there,” he grumbled. “Ever since Adam went off to college, I can’t find a darn thing.”

“You must miss him.” Norm was close to his son, his only child, and Adam had always helped with all aspects of the family business.

“Yes, I do. It was nice having him right there in his two rooms up above the shop, even with that awful music he played so loud. Now that they’re empty, there ain’t nothing but echoes. It’s not like I can rent them or would want to—”

Kenzie wasn’t really listening to the rest of it. “Empty? Really?”

“Not quite,” Norm corrected himself. “There’s his bed and a table and a chair and an amp.” He gave her a curious look. “Why, Kenz? You looking for a place?”

“No—well, sort of.”

“It’s nothing fancy.”

She took a breath, about to tell a fib that wouldn’t hurt anyone. “That’s not important. There’s a plumbing leak in my building. I was told the ceiling could come down at any time.”

“Why now, you can bring your things and stay here until it’s safe to go home,” Norm said with spirit. “Carol will be thrilled. I warn you that neither of us will have a spare second to sit and chat with you, but it’d be a roof over your head for as long as you needed it.”

More than a roof. It would be a safe haven, probably the safest she could find. Norm Hamill’s shooting range was surrounded by a high fence topped with barbed wire, security-patrolled, and locked up tight at night. He and his wife Carol lived on the property and so did one or two of the staff. The longstanding customers tended to be protective of Norm, Norm’s family, and Norm’s friends.

And then there was Beebee. One hundred pounds of unconditional love with very sharp teeth. She’d missed having a dog in her life. “Let me think it over,” she said, laughing.

“Don’t,” he said quickly. “Just come. We’d be glad to have you.”

“I can give you an answer tonight. How’s that?”

Norm shook his head. “It’ll have to do.”

She signed the invoice for the gun repair and left while he turned to another customer. She would call Linc first and ask his opinion.

Silence.

“Hello? Linc?”

Kenzie moved the cell phone away from her ear to see if she’d accidentally switched it off. It was on. Someone had picked up.

“Linc, are you there? What do you think?”

He finally answered. “Yes, I’m here. Sorry. I was—trying to think of something to say.”

“Norm and Carol are really nice people. I’ve known them for ages and he happened to mention the room was empty. Stroke of luck, isn’t it? Private entrance and everything.”

A pause.

“What can I say? If you want to hide out at a shooting range, I guess it’s a good idea.”

The bad news, in his opinion, was that she’d be surrounded by men. Other men.

“Look, can you meet me there in an hour? I’d like you to meet Norm and his wife.”

Sounded like a done deal. She wasn’t really asking his opinion.

“Okay.” He took down the directions.

Linc stood in the room that Norm’s son had vacated, done with the grand tour. There was a nook with a microwave and a dorm fridge and a folding table, and she had her own bathroom. All she needed, really.

He cast a glance at the heavy-metal posters on the walls. One was peeling off at a corner and another had been torn and taped back together.

“Norm said I could take those down,” Kenzie told him.

“You don’t like them?” he asked dryly.

She only smiled and sat down on the platform bed. It held a sagging mattress covered with a black sheet with a few holes.

“He also said I should go pick out a new mattress and bedding. He gave me enough cash for both.”

Linc shot her a look. “Sounds like you’re settling in.”

“No way. This is temporary.”

“Did you tell them why you needed to stay here?”

“I will. Norm was busy with a customer in the shop. I couldn’t just blurt it out.”

“He and his wife oughta know.”

“I’m going to tell them!” Her forceful answer had a defensive ring.

Linc figured that Norm wouldn’t be shy about saying hello with a sawed-off shotgun if the stalker showed up. But if the gun-store proprietor didn’t know there was one out there, he’d be in trouble. As far as Kenzie was concerned, she’d be better off if people she trusted knew what was going on.

Granted, it hadn’t been that long since the accident and since she’d seen the frightening face. But Kenzie’s go-it-alone approach wasn’t the right way. And the man with the evil eyes wouldn’t disappear if she pretended he didn’t exist, even for a little while.

Linc folded his arms over his chest. “All right. Let me know when you do.”

“Get off my back. And don’t you dare tell them for me.”

Misplaced belligerence. He could deal. “Fair enough. So, what can I do to help around here?” he asked.

She stood up and yanked the black sheet off the bed so hard it ripped at the holes. “So much for that,” Kenzie muttered. She threw it on the floor, then bent down with a swoop and balled it up, stuffing it into an empty shopping bag.

“Anything else?” he asked pleasantly. “Want to make a Destroy list?”

She threw him a fierce look. “I know you won’t believe me, but you wouldn’t be on it.”

Her way of saying he was right. Linc couldn’t mess up that small victory with some stupid comeback.

She spent several more minutes investigating the small clothes closet and the tiny cabinets above the microwave, then disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. He heard the sink faucet running and sloshing sounds.

When she came out, her dark hair was damp and pushed back behind her ears. The cold water she’d splashed over her face put color into her cheeks and wetted her lashes to spikiness. Without a trace of makeup, she looked fantastic. And a lot more composed.

“I was wondering,” she began as if the argument hadn’t happened. “If I went to buy the new bedding, would you pick out the mattress? It would save time.”

“Huh?” His eyebrows went up.

“I don’t need to test it,” she said hastily.

“Well, I’m not going to be sleeping on it.”

Kenzie didn’t respond directly to his faintly mocking comment. “Let me explain. You’re a guy. You don’t know what it’s like to lie down on a mattress with a store salesman grinning at you.”

Linc could see her point. It was all too easy to imagine her stretched out on a satin-topped, brand-new double. Fully clothed, of course. But even so.

“It’s on Norm.” She reached into her pocket for a handful of hundreds. “Just get whatever mattress seems reasonable, so long as it’s in stock and they can deliver it today.”

His arms uncrossed but he didn’t take the money. “Did I say yes to this? I don’t think I did.”

“Please, Linc.”

He studied her, making her wait. The room was nothing to write home about but she seemed happy here and, all of a sudden, a lot less tense, judging by her body language.

He gave in. “All right.”

Claws retracted, Kenzie patted his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

A while later, he was tying a plastic-wrapped mattress to the top of his car. The deliveryman at Sammy’s Sleepy-Bye hadn’t returned from lunch and Linc didn’t feel like waiting around.

The salesman who’d helped him get it outside dragged the hand truck back to the store.

“Come again!” he called and disappeared through the doors before Linc could say thanks.

He tugged at the last knot in the taut web and slammed the door on the cord that ran through the back. Should hold.

He went around to the front of his car and took his phone out of his shirt pocket to call Kenzie.

“Where are you?” she said when she picked up. “I got back from the mall an hour ago. I’m ready to make the bed.”

“On my way. See you in a few.” He’d just wanted to make sure she was there. He hung up before she asked questions about the delivery. Kenzie would have to ask someone there to help him with it.

She called again just as he pulled in and parked.

“I can see you from here. How come you brought it?”

He explained about the deliveryman.

“Okay. I’ll be right down.”

She ran to the exterior fence and unlocked the high gate as Linc waited. He went in and she relocked it behind him, waving him into a parking space nearest the side entrance that led to her hideaway.

Plenty of room. Most of the slots were usually taken. The place seemed quiet.

He got out and started to cut the cords with a pocketknife he kept in the car, then slashed through the plastic wrapping where the side handles were and yanked them through.

Kenzie looked on. “You didn’t lift that on top of the car by yourself, did you?”

“No. The salesman helped. But I could if I had to,” he added.

Unwisely.

Linc looked at the shooting range. There was no one out there. His gaze moved to the wide windows of Norm’s shop and stopped on the Closed sign.

“Where is everybody?”

“They went over to the gun show at the fairgrounds,” she explained. “Norm decided to take the rest of the afternoon off and go with them.”

Linc groaned.

“I can help you,” Kenzie insisted.

He gave a nod. “Let me get it down on the ground. Stand back.”

Kenzie moved away from the car and watched as he took both handles and dragged the mattress off the top of the car. It landed with a soft thump.

“How heavy is it?” she wanted to know.

“Not too. More like awkward. And floppy.” He put a hand on it to hold it in place. “The hard part is going to be the turn on the stairs.”

“We can bend it.”

Linc looked at the mattress. “Think so? With all this stiff plastic wrapping?”

“A friend and I did it once. The plastic helps it slide.”

“Okay, I’m game.” He turned and grabbed both handles. “Lead the way. I really can carry it myself. You get the doors.”

She went ahead of him. Linc lifted the mattress with a grunt. He could feel his shoulder muscles protest but he managed. The asphalt was too rough to drag it. He rested it on the sill of the side door that Kenzie was holding open, then lifted it again to set it at an angle on the stairs that led to her room.

“I’ll guide it,” she said.

She actually seemed to like moving big stuff. But he was still doing the heavy lifting. He pushed it up several feet and stood on the entry mat, letting the door close behind him as she scampered up to the top of the mattress.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Let’s do it.”

At either end, she gripped and he shoved. The stairs were uncarpeted and the mattress did slide. She looked at him over the top of it, her green eyes bright.

“Told you it was easy.”

The turn proved to be no problem. They used the same method to get the mattress into the room.

Kenzie gave it a triumphant pat, but Linc frowned when he looked at the platform.

“What’s the matter?”

He rested, bracing the mattress against his shoulder. “Are you sure it’s going to fit? You told me to get a double.”

“I did?” She glanced at the platform. “I meant a full. That’s a little narrower, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I hope they’re the same. Measure twice, move once.”

Doubt flickered across Kenzie’s expression. “That’s not how the saying goes.”

“It’ll do for now.”

“Let’s just try it.” She curled her fingers around a handle and dragged it onward. Linc reached for the other one and helped her flip it down.

It hollowed in the middle and hung over the edge. “I’m guessing I got suckered,” he said with annoyance. He looked at the label sewn into the side. “It isn’t a national brand—the measurement sure isn’t standard. The damn thing is about three inches wider than the platform.”