Free Death on the Range: Target Practice Mysteries 1 by Nikki Haverstock Page A

hand has everything: hills, estimating distances, rocks that destroy arrows if you miss, trees partially obscuring your view, uneven footing, and it always rains. Plus, you are out in nature—what can beat that?”
    “What am I? A bear? What do I care about being out in nature?”
    They were happily wrapped in their own discussion. I shifted my attention to the notebook and tablet. We had accomplished nothing so far except to confirm that Tiger was a flirt, Minx was not my fan, Owley had nice shoes, and Moo was on a slippery slope of cosplay. I looked over the list and ran through the conversations we had already had, trying to piece out everything that was said and if any of it was more important than we had first thought.
    “So, what’s next?” I looked up at Mary. Minx must have already left, as we were alone.
    “I don’t know. This is nothing like the TV shows.” I flopped my head down on the table.
    “Di?” Mary’s hand gently patted my shoulder. “Are you feeling a bit tired?”
    I closed my eyes against the cool tabletop, and the couple of hours from last night and the couple-hour nap late this morning added up to a couple of couples, definitely not a full night’s sleep. I sat up and scrubbed my face.
    “Yeah, and my brain is kinda mushy. I know we need to talk to Bruce about whatever happened with Honey at the Summer Games and whatever happened here when he took Owley into the hallway after snapping at Honey. Plus whatever you found in the memoir. And… whatever.” I was babbling. I got up and did some stretches, hoping the movement would wake up my sluggish mind.
    Mary pulled out a chair and started looking through her notes.
    “I wanted to tell you earlier about a section I read in the memoir. Most of her notes about the Summer Games were who she met that was famous, interviews and photo ops she had or compliments she got. In fact, the qualifying round had very little details until the last arrow. Here is what it said: ‘I knew that if I got a seven or worse on this final arrow that I would have to shoot against Owley. I could feel the wind on my skin and the sun on my face. I raised the bow, and right as I shot, a gust of wind lifted the arrow and it hit a six. I tried to stay happy, but I am just devastated.’ See?”
    I did a couple of jumping jacks, thinking about what she shared. “I don’t see much other than the fact that she needed an amazing editor. ‘I am just devastated’? Way to hop around tenses.”
    “That’s part of the problem. She wasn’t devastated, then or now. We did an interview afterwards, and she was so happy. I don’t think she was that great of an actor. In that interview she said she must have bumped the sight, nothing about the wind. Plus, have you heard anything about her that makes you think she really cared about her teammates?”
    I stopped mid-jumping jack to think through everything I knew about Honey. “You’re right. So I guess she was lying to sound more sympathetic? She didn’t seem to have that much self-awareness.” I bent over to touch my toes and let the blood flow to my brain.
    “It’s possible, but you missed the other part that’s important. ‘I knew that if I got a seven or worse on this final arrow that I would have to shoot against Owley.’ How did she know that a seven or worse was what she needed?” Mary carefully wrote out two questions in her notebook. “Was Honey devastated?” and “Did she know she needed a 7 or worse?”
    “Could she have added that later to be dramatic? You said she embellished all the stories.” Moo started pawing at my dangling arms, so I sat down to scratch his ears.
    “I looked back through the article I wrote for the Summer Games, and there was a quote from her saying that her first words to Bruce when stepping off the line was something like ‘I’m shooting against Owley tomorrow.’”
    I shrugged my shoulders. “So she knew right then. I don’t get what the big deal is. She would just have