I watched Holly fire her last three shots. Her face remained blank, but her eyes were wide and excited. Again, her target had a tight grouping in the chest area. Perhaps even tighter than the previous one.

The woman was good. Very good.

Wyatt returned with two more silhouettes. These were ten-yard targets, half the size of the previous ones. We exchanged our empty clips for full ones and hung the targets.

Holly glanced at me. I wouldn’t call her stare hostile, but it was far from friendly, and the ugliest I’d seen her. She pressed the lever, sending her ten-yard target past the ten-yard mark, all the way to the end of the range. Her eyes stayed on me the entire time.

I did the same with my target, squinting at the distance. It appeared to be about three inches tall.

I aimed, and let out a breath. My hand had the slightest tremor; my veins were still processing those Yellow Bombers I’d taken on the road. I placed my left hand under my wrist to steady it, tried to ignore the pain from the burn, then emptied my clip at the target.

Holly had watched me the entire time, her ugly scowl replaced by an equally unattractive smirk. I pulled in my target. Five to the head, two to the neck, and two outside the body. When Holly saw this, her smirk became a superior grin.

I raised my eyebrows, challenging her to do better.

She stuck with the one-handed grip, sighted the target, and fired so quickly, her finger was a blur.

When she brought her target in, I could see she had once again grouped every single shot in the chest.

Wyatt tapped my shoulder, indicating for me to remove my ear gear. Holly did the same.

“Damn nice shooting, ladies. Damn nice. I were the judge, I’d call it a tie.”

Holly folded her arms. “You think so? I notice she missed a few, that last turn.”

“Jack went for the head. You went for the body. Head is more points. I got the score as even-steven.”

He handed us each a fresh ten-yard silhouette and a clip.

“Let’s try quick draw. Four rounds. Weapons kept at your sides until I give the signal. Nine extra points to the one who gets them all off first. You game?”

I nodded. Holly flashed a dazzling smile and tossed her hair back, which Wyatt took for acquiescence. I shoved in the clip, chambered a round, and pinned up my target, taking it all the way back to the end of the line.

She’s better than I am, I thought. Probably faster too. But the head shot is worth more than the heart shot, and she always goes for the heart. If I can hit three, I’ll win even if she hits all four and outdraws me.

So the smart move would be to take my time, let her shoot fast, and win on score.

But I didn’t want to play it smart. I wanted to prove I was just as fast.

“Weapons at your sides.” Wyatt stood between us, but he was staring at Holly. We each relaxed our arms, barrels pointing at the floor.

“On three. One…”

I pushed out a breath, relaxed my shoulder, concentrated on my grip. The gun felt good, natural. But I still had tremors, and I hadn’t slept in over thirty hours.

“Two…”

I’d have to shoot one-handed. When you speed draw to a two-handed stance, the free hand meets the gun hand so fast, it throws off the aim before it has a chance to stabilize it, wasting valuable milliseconds.

“Three!”

My arm shot up on its own initiative, my trigger finger flexing fast, the four shots gone in an instant. The noise was deafening without the ear protection, but I still heard well enough to know I’d outdrawn Holly; her last shot went off a fraction of a second after mine.

My elation was short-lived when I noticed my target.

One shot through the head. Three misses.

Holly, as expected, placed all four of hers in the silhouette’s heart.

“Jack receives the nine points for speed, plus a ten-point shot to the head. Nineteen points. Holly hit the heart four times, five points each, for a winning score of twenty points.”

Holly glowed, her face bright as a camera flash.

“Not many people can shoot as fast as I can, Jack. I’m impressed.”

“Speed doesn’t mean anything if the accuracy is poor.”

“I’m sure you’re just having an off day.” Her tone suggested something contrary.

“Yeah. Well. Nice shooting.”

“Nice shooting.”

She came over and hugged me. Just two regular girls, celebrating marksmanship.

I endured the hug, which was tight enough to make me lose my breath. Holly had some serious muscles. I gave her a quick pat on the back, and when she released me she stayed within my personal space, her face so close I could smell her mint gum.

“Want to grab a bite to eat? My treat.”

“I’m sort of in the middle of a case.”

“Really? What kind of case?”

“Homicide.”

“Isn’t Indiana out of your jurisdiction?”

I wondered how she knew, then remembered I’d been a media darling of late.

“I’m not working on the Kork case. I’m working on something parallel.”

“Really? What?”

“Can’t. We cops are sworn to secrecy.” And I was getting uncomfortable with her being so close.

“Come on. Spill. I’ve spent every waking hour with Harry these last few days, and all he talks about is the adventures you two had. I always wanted to be a cop.”

I leaned back an inch or three. “You’re military, right?”

“Semper fi. How did you know?”

“You didn’t learn to shoot like that on a farm in Alabama, and you called your guns ordnance.”

“The lingo is tough to shake. I did a tour, when I was a kid.”

“So why didn’t you join the force? A lot of cops are ex-military.”

She hooded her eyes, as if she was about to share some juicy gossip. “I’ve got a few boo-boos on my record. Nothing major, but enough to keep me from being a law enforcer.”

I took a full step back and met Wyatt at the counter. Holly followed. We returned our gear and I asked for a broom to sweep up our brass.

“I’ll get it.” Wyatt grinned like a schoolboy. “It was a pleasure to witness such a fine competition.”

I felt a buzz in my pocket, and the beeping followed a moment later. I slapped the cell phone to my face.

“Daniels.”

“Lieutenant? This is Raider, Gary PD. Bud Kork woke up about an hour ago. He’s lucid, and talking up a storm. My chief said you’d like to speak to him on a related subject.”

My spirits jumped. “Yes, I would. I appreciate the courtesy call. When can I come?”

“Anytime is fine. You’ve got full access. Way we see it, you’re the one who found the guy.”

“I’ll be there in about an hour. Thanks.”

I pocketed the phone, Holly so close, she was practically wearing my pants. Her eyes shone.

“I heard everything. I want to come with you.”

“No.”

“I’ll stay out of your way. I just want to see him. Come on, I’m a cop junkie.”

“No.”

“I can help.”

“You’re a civilian.”

“A civilian who just kicked your ass on the firing range.”

I was beginning to see why she was with Harry. She was annoying in an eerily similar way.

“No, Holly. Thanks for the offer, but this is police business.”

“But that killer, he’s a man, right? I’m good with men. I can get him to talk to you.”

“Won’t work on this one.” I pictured Kork’s missing male anatomy.

“Please, Jack. Harry’s doing some kind of bachelor party thing tonight. Something to do with midgets.”

McGlade? That bastard told me he didn’t have any other friends.

“His buddies are taking him out?” I kept my tone neutral.

“No. He’s alone. Well, alone with the little people.” Holly tugged on my arm. “Come on. You have to take me along. I can’t spend my last night as a free woman watching infomercials on TV.”

I knew how that felt.

“Sorry, Holly. Can’t do it.”

She was on my heels all the way up the stairs, like a puppy. An irritating, yipping, undaunted puppy.

“Please.”