Page 70 of Booked for Murder

“I was already entitled to a tag if I claimed it,” I admitted. “I just never claimed it.”

“Ren noticed when he went into the DMV. They pulled your record, saw the flag, and issued the tag based on that. They don’t care if you’re the driver or not. I got the feeling they’re happier you’re not.”

“Are you going to tell me anything else I won’t like?”

“I’m going to tell you a lot of things you won’t like.”

“Tell me something I’ll like. I’ve heard enough things I won’t like for today. And yesterday, too. I have busted lungs.”

Even talking tired me out. I gave it twenty minutes at the range before the strain of holding the gun steady exhausted me.

“Meridian had an idea on how to keep you in the cell even if you aren’t in the shooter position.”

“Isn’t that illegal? Having two shooters?”

“That’s how I’m going to get your medical exemption. I’m going to ask them if they really want you taking another spot you’re qualified for and having two capable shooters on the team, because you qualify for multiple roles. And they can’t bar you out of the spot if they won’t allow you to qualify because of your foot.”

“That’s a bit mean of you, Bradley.”

“It really is. And when they find out my mother is the attorney, they’re going to give me the exemption, as my mother will be delighted to take the licensing board to court for barring the handicapped from working in viable roles. Shooters need to be able to shoot a gun, not run a marathon. She’s already started building the case. I foresee changes to how they handle shooters in the future. Those qualifications will probably ease somewhat, although they’ll have more stringent requirements for new teams moving forward.”

I could live with being used to give people better chances of surviving the court system. “I’ll play that game. What do you need me to do?”

“Get your aim at a hundred yards as good as it can be.”

“I’m going to need a lot of range time at that, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to shoot at one time right now.”

“Do your best. That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”

Would my best be good enough? That was always the question I struggled with. Whatever. It would have to be.

I couldn’t allow the brutal murders of so many people to remain a mystery, not when I might be able to do something about it. If the law couldn’t bring justice, I would.

How?

That I didn’t know, not yet.

The Hampton family had several residences, and had I been wise, I would have requested we stay at the Manhattan home, which was actually four floors of a skyscraper they owned. Instead, he took me out to the Hamptons, a two-hour drive from the city. Half an hour into the drive, I clued in where we were going.

The mansion, three stories tall and excessive in all ways, made an imposing sight by the ocean, and unless a lot had changed in the past few years, the property boasted extensive gardens, easy access to the beach, and enough rooms for the entire household to be in residence at one time.

His choice of prisons would make going to the range difficult at best.

“Bradley,” I complained from my place in the front passenger seat, which had the most leg room. He’d taken the back seat across from me so he could talk my ear off at his leisure while Ren drove.

“I’m aware you know my name. You’ve used it many times this drive. I think you’ve used it on me almost at a rate of once per minute.”

“How am I supposed to work from the fucking Hamptons?”

“We have the internet and cellular service. What else do you need?”

“Easy access to the library.”

“Your branch has been closed for two weeks, so you can’t even go into the library until then. The timing is perfect. I’ll even be a gentleman and help you with the renovation planning should you become bored.”

“What about the range?”

“There’s one a mile from the house. More importantly, there is one in the house.”