Free Harmful Intent: A Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels/Dawson Hughes Novel by Nike N. Chillemi Page A

to find behind those gray granite walls, but it sure wasn't like the shooting ranges back home. First off, there wasn't a single individual covered in tattoos and nobody sported heavy silver chains around their neck... and we're talking the men.
    Bertha thought this establishment was snazzy.
    I gave the place a once over. A framed oil painting of a stagecoach with a cowboy riding shotgun dominated one wall. Beneath that, three dark brown leather upholstered chairs surrounded a rectangular coffee table displaying copies of RifleShooter magazine , Guns and Ammo , and Field & Stream . The front showroom displayed every kind of gun or rifle that might be desired. The shooting gallery was probably in the back. No telltale signs of gunfire, but all these places were sound proofed.
    A sandy haired fellow greeted me, filling out his fringed leather vest rather nicely. He leaned on the gleaming glass counter and a slow, easy smile spread across his face. "Can I help you?"
    I showed him the receipt for the Desert Eagle, my identification, my license to carry, and Mark's death certificate.
    "Ma'am, I'm sorry for your loss."
    "Thank you."
    "Do you want to try her out to see how she shoots, or'd you rather I box 'er up?"
    "Wrap it and I'll take a box of ammo for it too."
    "Yes, ma'am." He took the gun into the room behind the counter.
    The front door opened and a familiar voice called out, a chuckle in his tone. "It must be my lucky day. Imagine finding New York's premier lady PI gettin' herself another weapon."
    I pivoted. "Hughes. How'd you know I was here?"
    "Deputy Hicks saw that green bug you drive and radioed me."
    "Oh, so now the Taylor County Sheriff's Department is tailing me?"
    The gun shop guy came out carrying a large plain brown bag and threw a suspicious look at me. "Dawson, is there a problem?"
    "No, not at the moment, Todd, but this here's Mrs. Mark Ingels and trouble seems to dog her tracks. I'm just here to protect and serve." Hughes tipped his Stetson and grinned.
    Todd's eyes lit up. He glanced at me and then at Hughes. I wasn't sure I liked his grin. "Well, since you put it that-a way."
    Hughes motioned with a quick tilt of his head. "Ronnie, I'd like you to meet Todd Peterson, an old Army buddy of mine. We served together in Iraq."
    I extended a hand and we shook. "Nice to meet you Todd."
    Hughes leaned against the counter. "Todd, the other day this lady challenged me to a shootin' match."
    Todd gave a deep chuckle. "Did she, now?"
    Hughes nodded. "I think I'd like to see what kinda stuff she's made of."
    "That's doable. I'll take you two to the shootin' range." Todd walked from behind the gun cases with an easy gait, across the showroom, and turned down a short hallway.
    We followed, and on the way, I handed the brown paper bag to Hughes. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going to make a pit stop in the ladies room."
    I entered through a door displaying the silhouette of a stiletto heeled damsel, in a short tight dress, wielding a small purse sized pistol. On the door next to it a man's image in a duster with a fedora low on his brow pointed a Glock-type automatic.
    As the women's room door closed behind me, I walked across the entryway on gray granite tiles with a dash of sparkle in them. Gray enveloped me. Wall-to-wall-to-ceiling gray ceramic tiles. A gray metallic stall-door opened and Ava Chandler strode out. She stopped and stared at me. No chic suit this time. She sported a bright blue shirt tucked into pressed jeans. Her tapping foot was shod in a chestnut boot, a shade lighter than her hair.
    We both stared at each other for a moment. I finally broke the silence. "We meet again." Not very original, but the best I could come up with. I was thankful I hadn't stammered.
    She ran those tapered fingers of hers through her lush, auburn tresses. This time a silver horseshoe ring inlaid with turquoise blazoned her right ring-finger. "You're not half as clever as you think you are."
    "Excuse me?"
    She turned her