sure this is from Mooney,” I say quietly. “It doesn’t sound like his vernacular.”
“Give me a break, Amy. He’s a criminal. They have a diverse set of skills.”
Our eyes meet. I exhale the breath I’d been holding. “Either way, I’ll run it by the station tomorrow.”
My first stop after I drop the girls off at school the following morning is not the police station. First, I wait in the office to speak to the principal and explain the situation. Not in too much detail, just enough to make it clear that my daughters are to be supervised at all times and released to only their father or myself. The woman listens intently, but she doesn’t appear shocked, as though this is not the first request of this nature she’s ever heard.
While Greg was at his dinner, I did a little research. If one wanted to acquire a gun, one they didn’t want their spouse to know about, how might one go about it? It’s not that I intend to lie to Greg, but I also don’t want to hear his objections, and I know there will be many.
I recall a conversation with a former client about teenagers down by the car wash on the Eastside selling handguns. I don’t know if this is true, and the last thing I want is to do something illegal, but there is a part of me that is desperate to find out.
In the end, I decide to go about the acquisition the legal way and I drive to McBride’s. The process is much smoother than I thought it would be. I am not simply handed a firearm and told to be on my merry way. There’s a process, and although I assumed that any firearm would do, I quickly learn that it is very important to choose the right weapon.
I am lucky. The man at the counter is very knowledgeable, and he is insistent at imparting his wisdom upon me. He is patient while answering my questions, although he smirks at me when I use shooting a deer as a metaphor for shooting a person, but he does not make me feel as ignorant as I am. It turns out, my metaphor is unnecessary, because most people who purchase guns purchase them for the same reason I am. He tells me something I needed to hear, that I am not a bad person for wanting to protect myself. He also tells me I should brush up on the law. He explains the Castle Doctrine and what I should say if I were to fire my weapon in self-defense. I leave the store feeling less guilty and more informed than when I went in.
While I still have no plans to tell my husband, I do know that if I am to use the gun for its intended purpose, then I am going to have to keep it close by. At this rate, I may sleep with it under my pillow.
Chapter Thirteen
She wasn’t the first one he’d watched. His needs have developed over time until the activity became sacred, something that he cannot imagine himself ever giving up. To him, observation is an art form. Loads of people bird watch every year, and while most people would say what he does is immoral, he doesn’t see how this is any different. He considers himself an anthropologist of sorts.
Which is how he found himself in the park, his favorite place to study.
He spotted them immediately, the youngest girl’s red hair flying in the wind. He could spot her from miles away. Same as her mother, he is certain. Hair that color could be seen from outer space. It could be seen from anywhere.
He found himself having a good time. The weather was sunny and breezy, and golden leaves fell from the trees in a way that gave the scene a magical feel. He felt perfectly encapsulated, stuck in a snow globe where everything was perpetually stunning. But then everything turned. Like a winter storm blowing in fast, knocking everything off balance, the man approached. It nearly caused his heart to stop. His palms grew sweaty, and his breathing was rapid and unsteady. It is not good for children to talk to strangers. The little one does not appear to have been told. It’s a good thing he came. Even if he gets caught, he can explain. Parks are like oceans with lots of little fish. Sharks like oceans with plenty of fish.
This man was a shark—that much