Identity Issues (20 page)

Inside, McGrath and I filled out a ton of paperwork. We paid our fees, signed waivers, and agreed to pay an extra $15 if we shot holes in the ceiling by mistake.

I heard a pop, pop, pop sound coming from the back of the building, and I smelled the faint odor of firecrackers.

After we navigated the preliminaries, we made our way to the rear of the building.

McGrath had weapons with him. And ammunition. He grabbed two sets of ear protectors before we walked to lane #10, where two doors opened to create a narrow track that provided privacy from the other shooters.

"I’m going to explain what we’re about to do," McGrath said, "and then we’ll put the ear protectors on before we shoot. Okay, Sam?"

"Good idea." My nervousness kept me smiling.

"Remember your safety rules?" McGrath shouted above the roar of rounds being fired at targets on either side of us.

"My short–term memory is pretty darned good." I recited them back to him.

"Good." He smiled at me like a proud papa.

I relaxed a little.

"We’ll start with what I call the pre–flight checklist. It consists of the things you need to do before you fire a shot." McGrath paused, meeting my gaze.

I felt flushed. What the hell?

"You need a steady stance, a high hand grasp, a firm grip, front sight, and smooth rearward roll of the trigger," he continued. "We’ll go through each of these steps, one by one. But those five steps will be your mantra."

Being a good student, I repeated back to him, "Steady stance, high hand grasp, firm grip, front sight, and smooth rearward roll of the trigger. Got it."

"Pick up the gun. Check and see if it’s loaded."

I picked it up, remembering to point it down at the floor.

"Good, Sam. Now, when you get ready to shoot, you need to enlist a power stance. What that means is, I want you balanced forward to back, left to right, so that your body is stable. You’ll be better able to hit your target if you’re properly balanced."

When he put his hands on my hips, my brain short–circuited. Married.
Married.

As I giggled, McGrath cocked his head. "Are you going to be okay with all of this?"

"Sure," I said. "Maybe in about five thousand years. I’m a little freaked out, but I’ll be alright." Look out, Annie Oakley.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to focus. I was here to learn how to shoot a gun. I pushed away McNasty thoughts, balancing myself to assume the power stance McGrath had described to me.

"Okay, got it. Now, what?" I asked.

Fifteen minutes and several instructions later, I squeezed off my first shot. Minimal recoil. McGrath reeled in the target, and he circled a spot with a red marker near the bottom where I’d made contact.

"Good girl. You hit the target."

I grinned at him. "Woo hoo." Silly, proud me.

"Let’s try it again."

I assumed my ready stance. "Should I shoot?" I asked.

"Not yet. Hold still, Sam."

Before I knew it, his arms were up around my shoulders, bicep against bicep, elbow tucked into elbow, hand over hand. My head lolled back, almost touching his shoulder.

I pulled off the next round a little too quickly and shot the ceiling. "Oops, sorry. That’ll be an extra $15, ma’am," I joked.

"It’s not uncommon. You anticipated the kick and raised the gun as you pulled off the shot," McGrath said, sounding all detective. "Try again."

I don’t know how I made it through the next sixty minutes. We shot off a zillion rounds. My arms ached, my throat felt dry as dust, and I’d stopped shooting well.

"Tired?" McGrath smiled as he relieved me of the gun, checking the chamber to remove the last of the rounds.

"A little."

"Good job." McGrath tucked the weapon into his bag and zipped it up tight.

"Really? You think so?" I sounded like a five year old.

"You did very well." He led the way back to the lobby as I rolled my tense shoulders. "There’s a beer and burger joint up the road a bit. You up for it?"

If he flashed that smile at me one more time, he could have his way with me. "A professional bite, right?"

"Yes, ma’am."

What could it hurt? "I’m totally up for it. Let’s go."

I
FOLLOWED MCGRATH to a burger place that sat alongside the river. Round tables with plastic molded chairs littered the patio. A slatted awning let in the warm afternoon rays. In the Midwest, we refer to this kind of day as the ‘perfect day’—sunny and mild with the gentlest of breezes. Overflowing baskets of petunias added color to the view overlooking the meandering waters.

McGrath and I picked the table nearest to the water so that we could watch the canoes wind their way past. We both ordered drafts and quarter pounders with fries.

"I like this place," I told McGrath.

"The guys and I come here after work. It’s low key and the crowd’s friendly."

"You must welcome a calm atmosphere after work. I know I do. Problem is, with five kids, I don’t get out much."

"How is it with both the kids and the husband gone?" he asked.

"To tell you the truth, I haven’t had five minutes to absorb it. They left, I met with you, and the rest is history. It’s been a whirlwind getting the kids ready to go to the lake with their grandparents, what with winding up the school year. Now it’s important for me to learn to fire a gun. It’s all a bit unsettling."

"Things will calm down for you now, right?"

"I certainly hope so."

Our burgers arrived, juicy, piping hot and smelling of outdoor grill. I hadn’t realized how hungry target practice had made me. I spent the next several minutes focused on my food.

"Well, Jim McGrath, tell me about yourself," I said after taking a sip of my beer and blotting my lips with a napkin.

Jim eased back in his chair, smiling. "How far back do you want me to go?" 

I shrugged.

"I was born and bred in Ohio. Came here for college. Joined the Marines right after I got my degree and served a two year stint."

He paused for a serious draw on his brew, then continued. "Came back here out of the service. Back to my college sweetheart. We took the next logical step, got married, and fell into a dull routine."

"How did you wind up a cop?"

"I attended the academy after I returned from overseas. Applied. Was accepted. Landed a position here in Lexington Heights after I finished my training. Been here ever since."

"And your marriage?" I remembered the answer that McGrath had given me at the Frozen Margarita, but I decided to ask again.

"Didn’t work out, but that was a long time ago."

"Since then? Anyone serious?"

He met my gaze. "Not yet."

"What are you interested in?"

He grinned. "As far as a woman?"

"Yeah, what exactly are you into?" I asked, feeling very serious.

"I’m into my job mostly. I’ve been on a dating hiatus for quite a while now."

"Any special reason?"

"No. Not really. Just busy. Go to work. Go to the gym. Go home. Go to bed. Get up and do it all over again."

"Yeah, I do a fair amount of getting up and doing it all over again, too, but there’s five kids and a hundred or so students in the mix."

"I’m impressed by what you do," McGrath told me.

"Thanks. I impress myself sometimes. Times like this, summer break, I get a chance to take a deep breath and look back and I’m amazed that I can do it. I’m pretty much a single mom since my husband’s gone about sixty percent of the time. It’s a miracle I haven’t lost my mind."

"So what do you do for fun?" McGrath asked.

"Swim. Run. Work out. That’s about it. My life is full. Full of responsibility."

"Sounds like it." McGrath nodded, waved over the waitress, and ordered two more beers.

The sun settled over the water, and we turned our chairs to the view.

"What about you? What do you do for fun?"

"Like I said, I pretty much work. I’m a cop. It’s all I know. There aren’t a lot of murders in Lexington, but I’m called in on federal cases every now and then, and I’ve served on several task forces over the years. Mostly bureaucratic nonsense, but it can be interesting." After another draw on his beer, he added, "Tell me about your husband. Why does he travel so much?"

He had this way of leaning into me when he talked, so close I could smell the spice of his cologne. I decided I liked the close crop of his hair. When he reached out and touched my arm, I ignored the shivers dancing down my spine.

"It’s his job. He’s a businessman. You know, global economy and all that. He’s quite the mediator. Whenever there’s a problem, Jon’s the go–to guy."

I suddenly didn’t like Jon’s intrusion into our conversation. "Jon’s a great guy," I continued. "All his travel is hard though, and it takes its toll, but I’m in it for the long haul."

"Too bad for me." McGrath stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

"I’m flattered," I admitted, my baby blues alight with humor. I enjoyed his attention—this strapping, handsome guy paying attention to me, a simple school teacher with a gaggle of kids. He made me feel like a woman.

"Excuse me for a few minutes." I stood, surveyed the place, and spotted the ladies room sign. I retouched my lipstick, then inspected my attire. It would have to do. I reminded myself that I was indulging in an innocent fantasy.

McGrath sat right where I’d left him. Be still my hammering heart.

I noticed the fresh beers on the table. "I see that the beer gods have visited in my absence."

"Indeed," he said.

"You’re looking quite mellow."

He slowly nodded, his eyes fixed on my face. "This is one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a long, long time."

He did look content.

"Must be rare in your line of work."

"As in yours," McGrath said as I sat down across the small table from him.

"It does feel good," I conceded.

He asked, "Do you have time to just sit, have another beer, and enjoy this fabulous sunshine?"

All the tension left me. "Twist my arm."

We sat side by side, watching the lazy river and the boaters, who finished paddling and headed downstream to the livery. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

McGrath settled his arm on the side of my chair. His feet rested on the railing. I felt hungry again, but not for another meal.
Enough beer. Married. Kids.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

"Mmm–hmm."

"May I ask a question?" I continued.

"Shoot," he said.

"Do you think, considering all I’ve told you about this other Stitsill guy, that I really have anything to worry about?"

"Probably not."

"Then, why is it important for me to know how to shoot a gun?"

"Everyone should know how to use a gun," he answered.

"Everyone?"

He nodded. "The right people… people in possession of their wits. Better safe than sorry." He shrugged. "The anti–gun nuts are crazy, of course, but there’s nothing wrong with guns. It’s people who pose the risk." He seemed to shift mental gears.

"Frankly, I don’t think this identity thing amounts to much. I’ve read the coroner’s report. Nothing suspicious, but it’s odd that the state handled the suicide. Granted, it’s been eight years, but I don’t remember the case." He faced me, back in cop mode.

"Even though I’ve seen him?" I asked.

"And when did you see him? In the middle of the night? Were you sober?"

I blinked in surprise. "The first time," I admitted, "I might have been a little tipsy. The second time, however, I was totally lucid. Then, there are all the other weird things like the birth certificate not checking out, the matching name, birth date, and occupation. Remember? Same as my husband. And then there’s that attorney who claimed he’d witnessed a murder that night. True, he was a drunk then, but he’s not now."

I knew I sounded sarcastic, but I didn’t back down. How could I?

McGrath said. "I’ll keep poking around. If I find anything, I’ll let you know. I just don’t see how you tie into all of this. Has anyone bothered you? Have you had any unusual calls or correspondence recently?" he asked.

"No," I answered. "Not in quite a while."

"Probably nothing to worry about then. How about some coffee before we drive?"

I smiled at him. "How very responsible of you, Detective."

After our coffee, McGrath paid the bill. We strolled out to the parking lot as the sun set, the sky glowing golden across the river.

"Thanks for a nice afternoon," I said as we walked to my car.

"Believe me, the pleasure was all mine." McGrath took my arm and turned me to face him.

I felt my face heat as a frisson of sensation swept through my body.

He leaned over me, then hesitated.

"I’ve gotta go," I whispered, staring wide–eyed at him.

"Yeah, me, too. I’ll get in touch if I find anything out about your husband’s double."

"I appreciate it. Thanks." I turned, punched the unlock button, opened the driver’s side door, and hopped into the van. I rolled down the window to say goodnight to McGrath one last time. Between the coffee and the near kiss, I’d sobered up.

I
SLEPT LIKE a baby. Surprising, since visions of Jim McGrath danced in my head all the way home and throughout the evening. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to think about another man since marrying Jon. Sure, I’d flirted here and there over the years, but this was different. Unsettling.

The next morning, I jumped out of bed early, slipped into shorts, a T, and tennis shoes, and called Rex for a morning run. I felt rested and alive. Later, guilt set in. I began to miss the kids. I avoided the tug of motherhood and called Jack, remembering our pact. "Hey, how’s it going?"

"Good, Stitsill, how about you?"

"I became suspicious because of some things Rosie shared with me, so I had her drinking water tested." I blurted that tidbit without thinking twice.

"Go on." Jack waited.

"The water was tritiated, radioactive. Someone tainted her water, which probably caused her cancer."

"And you know this how?" Jack sounded pissed.