Death on the Range: Target Practice Mysteries 1 Read online

  Tiger looked at Minx with a raised eyebrow and blew her a kiss. Honey crossed her arms and pursed her lips at Tiger.

  The coaches’ heads swiveled as they followed the conversation like a tennis match. Mary was staring with rapt attention, like she was watching the screaming housewife show she loved.

  Suddenly, Honey’s whole face changed to a brilliant smile, and she turned to the class again. She put her hands out to hold us at bay, as though we were about to rush her in excitement. “And I have one more bit of news that I know everyone will be thrilled to hear. My personal memoir, covering my entire archery career since I started shooting in college through the Summer Games, will be available very soon. So many people have been begging me for years to share my inspirational story, and I finally found the time to write it all down. Don’t worry, it’s full of the juiciest gossip in the industry, and I’m sure you will recognize some names.”

  Pointedly, she looked at Owley, Minx, and Tiger in turn then shot a glance back to the class, but I couldn’t see who exactly she looked at before she sat back in her seat.

  Jess had been standing at the front watching, but with a shake of her head she finally spoke up to bring the conversation back to the coaches’ course.

  “Let’s dig into the material. We will be doing a quick overview of the new level 1 and 2 course before lunch, then afterwards we will hit the range with beginner bows to go over the basic form steps and make sure we are all on the same page with the US Archery Form System.”

  ***

  After lunch, we headed over to the practice range. Mary and I jogged down the hallway to burn off the extra energy stored up from sitting all morning. I had a bundle of anxiety in my chest at the idea of shooting. I was looking forward to it in the way you look forward to seeing a best friend that you have lost touch with. Would it be the same? Could I still shoot? What if I hated it now? Why was I so nervous?

  We had spent the morning going over the USAFS, US Archery Form System, which was the way all American coaches were being required to learn. The idea was a student could go to any coach and learn the same system. It was developed by the US National Coach for Archery. This was the first class with the new literature. Most of it covered the same things I had learned in college but with a specific name for each part of the shot cycle. The morning class had crept along as coaches asked for justification or wanted to share their view on why their way was better.

  The worst offender was Honey. At least three times she stood up to say, “What I think Jess is trying to explain is…” I was ready to strangle her, but at least half of the class nodded along with her explanation. Every time Honey spoke up, Jess’s mouth tightened into a thin line until she would wrestle back control of the class.

  After the third time, Minx told Honey, “If you slow down this class any more, I’m going to stab you in the eye with my pen.” After that, things moved a little faster.

  Jess spoke loudly over the din on the range.

  “Everyone grab a bow, a bow sling, and some arrows. We are using these beginner bows to make sure we know all the steps and to practice coaching each other. Please make sure you are using USAFS even if you use a different form yourself.”

  Mary was next to me, and we hung back as people paired off and grabbed equipment. They were guests and had first dibs.

  Bruce, the director of community archer education at the center, made a bee-line for Owley and pulled her off to the side. Honey stepped in front of them and said something I couldn’t hear. Bruce snapped back at Honey through bared teeth and stepped around her, dragging Owley out to the hallway.

  As the crowd lessened, Mary and I stepped forward to pick up our equipment. Jess was getting all the pairs lined up in front of targets set at half the normal distance for inside shooting. Without the top-end equipment on the bows, like sights, clickers, and stabilizers, we would be happy to keep the arrows on the target mats.

  Jess called out, “Hey, Honey, Tiger, would you be able to switch with Di and Mary? I think they could learn a lot from you two.”

  Honey looked between us and Tiger for a split second before a smile crossed her face.

  “Yes, I would love to help out Mary.” She beckoned Mary to come over. “I’ve been wanting to ask Mary something anyways, but first, how’s your mom?”

  Tiger jogged over to me. “I guess that means we are a match, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows at me. My glance shot over to Honey to see if she was watching. Tiger followed my glance then pursed his lips.

  “Don’t take all the power couple stuff too literally; it’s for reality TV, more or less.” He made finger quotes around the word reality.

  Jess blew the whistle once, indicating it was clear to shoot, and I was lost in my own world. Even after all this time, my fingers remembered how to grab the arrow by the nock and snap it onto the string with one hand. My bow hand turned to move the elbow out of the way while my fingers in the finger tab were set into a deep hook on the string, the back of my hand smooth and flat, making a continuous line from the first knuckle to my elbow. Raising the bow, I drew back until I had a firm anchor, my draw hand pressed hard to my jaw-line, the string hitting the corner of my chin and the tip of my nose. My back held the weight at full draw and felt amazing.

  Back in California, many of my friends raved about yoga, and while I enjoyed it, I never found the pure bliss they did in the movements, but now I understood. The movement, the tightening of muscles, the stretching—all of it felt right and where I should be. How could I have ever stopped shooting?

  Tiger interrupted my thoughts. “You look great.”

  I turned to him and rolled my eyes at what I thought was flirting. He chuckled but clarified.

  “That too, but seriously, your shooting form is great. How long have you been shooting? Why aren’t you competing?”

  “Thank you. I used to compete in college, but that was years ago.” I was embarrassed and pleased. He was kinder than I had expected after watching him in the classroom in the morning. I could see his appeal.

  “Then you definitely need to get back to it; you’re a natural.” He smiled at me. I could feel a blush starting to form when Jess interrupted us.

  “She’s always had natural form. She should start shooting again, but right now you two need to focus on the exercise.” She cocked her head at us and raised her eyebrows until we nodded. Tiger and I exchanged a quick smile then got back to work.

  ***

  Rolling over in bed, I grabbed the phone off the side table to check the time. 1:00 a.m. The afternoon training had run right up until dinner time, when most of the class had left to go home or to a hotel. The rest of us grabbed dinner in the cafeteria. Since the archery side of the center was closed for the coaches’ course, Robbie had gone with the firearms instructors to a camp in Oregon to see what comparable programs were doing.

  Mary and I had gone to bed in our separate rooms in the unit we shared, but sleep had escaped me. All sorts of old emotions had been riled up and demanded attention. At dinner, Honey had announced that I hadn’t changed at all, which was a surprise considering I had never met her before. Or so I thought. Turns out that before Honey was known as Honey, she was known as Joyce. Joyce had been a freshman who joined Jess’s and my college archery team our junior year. Joyce wanted to be a Summer Games athlete and decided archery was the easiest sport to pick up. This had not made her very well liked on a team where everyone loved archery.

  But I guess Joyce, or rather Honey, had been right since just a few months ago she had attended the Summer Games. What if I had kept competing? Honey had not been a natural archer, her form awkward and forced.

  Every time I rolled over, I was plagued with what-ifs and unanswered questions. Maybe some running would help. Slipping on some workout clothing and a heavy jacket, I grabbed the center key and snuck out the door. The sky was crystal clear, and a blanket of stars stretched out endlessly over-head as I trotted to the Firearms entrance. When the center was closed, the only way to get
in, even with a key, was by unlocking the door on that side. I kicked off my heavy snow boots in the area between the front door and the second set of doors and slipped into the hallway, carrying my workout shoes. It was dimly lit at night, with the bank of dark rooms and offices on the side.

  Passing the only open door, I glanced inside to see a room crowded with guns, bows, and tools on shelves and in cabinets. It was a large room, not entirely visible. Noises rolled out of the room, muffled and indistinct. But, much to my delight, I locked eyes with Moo. Between his large paws was a green stuffed animal. Bits of green fake fur clung to his lips and nose as he hopped up and trotted into the hallway to join me.

  I gave him an ear scratch while I plucked a large ball of green fuzz from his lip. “Wanna keep me company in the weight room?”

  He wagged his tail.

  I debated telling whoever was in the room that Moo was joining me but didn’t really feel like talking or explaining why I was wandering the halls with bed-head and no makeup in the middle of the night.

  We walked down to the weight room. I propped open the door and flipped on the lights. Moo pushed into the room ahead of me and jogged over to the black rubber flooring by a bank of free weights. Turning around, I startled hard at the realization someone was already in the room, laying on the floor. As I advanced, I recognized Honey’s blond hair.

  I called Moo back to my side and gripped his collar hard. Something was very wrong. Honey’s shirt was disheveled, and one pant leg was pushed up to her knee. She was perfectly still, with eyes that stared straight ahead. Her head was tipped away slightly, the back of her head matted with blood.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Help! Help!” a voice rang out, and after a second I realized it was my own. I grabbed the handle on a treadmill to steady myself. The sensation of my hand gripping the firm foam felt distant and hazy.

  A noise behind caused me to spin around. A Viking stood in the doorway, scanning the room with piercing light eyes. He raced over to me, and I recognized him as Liam from the employee website.

  “Help her! She was here. I-I just walked in. There. Not moving. She’s... she’s not okay.” I ended in a sob, and the room shifted around me.

  Liam grabbed my arm hard and dragged me outside the doorway into the hall.

  “Sit. Head between your knees, push against my hand, and breathe in slowly on my count.”

  As I slid down the wall to put my head between my knees, he gently pushed on the back of my neck and counted slowly to five as I matched my ragged breath to his count.

  “Good, now breathe out slowly.”

  I was still gripping Moo’s collar tightly in my hand, and slowly I became more aware of my surroundings. Like a feather drifting down to earth, my mind settled more firmly in my body. My breath slowed as I looked into Liam’s eyes.

  He searched my face for a second. “You’re looking a bit better. Are you okay if I leave you?”

  I nodded and hugged Moo, and he laid his head on my shoulder. Liam headed into the weight room. Soon I heard his mumbled voice drift into the hallway. He must be using the center phone in the room. I couldn’t catch his side of the conversation, although the tone of it carried into the hallway, deep and safe. I focused on my breathing, slow and controlled.

  After a few seconds, or perhaps a lifetime, he came into the hallway.

  “We are going to need to move to the entrance to let in the police. I gave them the code to the front gate, but we’ll need to open the center door for them. They’ll be here in a second.”

  He spoke carefully and slowly as though I was a child, but it seemed appropriate since I felt so out of sorts.

  “Shouldn’t…” I stared back at the door. “Shouldn’t one of us stay with her?” The idea of her just lying there alone was too distressing.

  He pulled me up and put my free hand through the nook of his arm to support me.

  “She’s not suffering. There’s nothing we can do for her now, and we need to stay together.”

  We slowly walked through the empty hallways back to the entrance. Liam unlocked the large glass doors then sat down next to me, up against a wall. I let go of Moo, and he lay down next to me, pawing at my foot until I started petting him.

  “Hey, are you feeling a bit better? You gave me a good scare.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I’m feeling a bit better.” I paused before sharing what was heavy on my mind. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

  He turned to look at me, though I kept my eyes on the wall ahead.

  “Why do you say that?”

  I gave a shrug. “I don’t know. It just felt…” I couldn’t put it into words. Something had been wrong, but I didn’t know what. “I read a book that said your gut instinct in situations is very accurate, and I guess it just doesn’t look like an accident. But I want to be wrong…” Poor Honey.

  “I don’t think you are wrong. There was nothing around her, but something had obviously hit her on the back of her head.”

  I sniffled. If it wasn’t an accident, then someone had done it on purpose. “Who would have done that to Honey? It wasn’t me, I just got here.”

  “I know. After Moo left, I poked my head out into the hallway to see who it was. He normally sticks right by me after the ranges close.”

  Moo lifted his head to stare at Liam when he said his name. Liam leaned forward to give him a little scratch. With a start, I realized that we hadn’t even introduced ourselves.

  “Moo sticks pretty close to me during the day. I’m Di.” I awkwardly turned to offer my hand. “If Moo belongs to you, then you must be Lumberjack?”

  He winced at the name. “No, call me Liam please.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought Jess said that Moo’s owner prefers to go by Lumberjack?” Had I remembered that incorrectly?

  “Yes, some people call me Lumberjack, but really Liam is fine. It’s this thing that everyone has for pro names.” I stared at him, confused.

  “Professional names,” he clarified. “A few years ago, one of the top professional Compound archers decided to go by a nickname. He put it on shirts and what not. Then all the top archers decided they needed pro names. Suddenly everyone was Cheetah, Wolverine, or Honey Badger. I have a beard, wear plaid shirts from time to time and suddenly I was dubbed Lumberjack. If you stand still long enough, you get a nickname. I have fifteen-year-old kids that haven’t even competed nationally writing me with sponsorship requests. They have their pro name all picked out. It is kinda ridiculous, it’s not like we’re…”

  He had become more animated as he warmed up to the topic. He flapped his hands around as he searched for the right term.

  I wiped at a tear and tentatively replied.

  “A bunch of rappers?”

  He smiled at me. “Yes, exactly.”

  It seemed like a long time ago that coaching training started and I met everyone with a pro name, which reminded me. “Why are you here? Aren’t all the gun people gone?”

  “The instructors and directors are gone, but I don’t really fall into that category. I deal with equipment for both sides of the horseshoe, guns and bows. I’m still getting the equipment room inventoried and set up. I really should have come by and met you sooner, but I have been working later and later each day.”

  I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my cheek on them, turning my head so I could watch his face. “Is that why you are here so late?”

  “Yeah, I grabbed a snack from the kitchen as the cafeteria closed and headed to the equipment room and have been there ever since.”

  “And you didn’t leave?”

  “Nope, not even once.”

  I searched his face for deceit. “Not even to go to the bathroom?”

  He chuckled. “Nope, the equipment room has an attached bathroom. It needs a sink area for cleaning gear so it made sense to just finish it out. Don’t worry, Ms. Detective, you haven’t been sitting with a killer.”

  Lights filled up the glass entrance
as several cars parked. We stood up to face the inevitable questions.

  Liam pushed the doors open to welcome the officers but turned back in the doorway.

  “Why don’t you keep Moo with you tonight and make sure to have an officer escort you back to your room?”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. Someone had killed Honey. I shivered and pulled Moo close.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I was roused from sleep by Mary leaning over me and poking me in the shoulder.

  “There are police everywhere. When did Moo get here? What’s going on?”

  I stared at her for a few seconds while I tried to get a handle on where I was and what was happening. My knees ached from the weight of Moo sleeping on them. The bed was small, and Moo took up a significant portion. I had laid out a blanket on the floor, but he had obviously decided that he could easily find a spot on me. His body warmth seeping through my brand-new flannel comforter and deep breathing had been a comfort that outweighed my contorted position.

  Slowly, memories of the previous night filtered through my mind and brought a frown to my face.

  “Mary,” I gently said, “you need to sit down. I have to tell you something.”

  She grabbed a chair from the desk while I scooted up to lean against the wall so I could look her in the eyes while I talked.

  “Last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and went over to the center to run. When I got to the weight room, Honey was there, uh…” I hesitated; I had never had to share this kind of news and was unsure of what to say. “Honey’s dead.” I ran through the rest of the story briefly as best I could. When I finished, Mary sat there briefly before responding.

  “Poor Honey. I can’t believe she was murdered.” She got up to grab a few tissues from my small bathroom and handed one to me.

  We dabbed at our eyes. “Yeah, Liam was pretty sure, and based on how the police questioned me, I’m pretty sure they thought the same thing. They had me tell my story forward and backward a dozen times.”