Free Sharpshooter by Nadia Gordon

only time he used the rifle, and it was strictly a two- to four-person game played only with close friends, as far as she knew. She would check with Wade about that. They needed to review every time he had used that gun with anyone around. She’d help him make a list, but the list would not be long. No, she had to face what was most likely the truth: Whoever stole Wade’s gun was probably part of the Skord Mountain extended family, somebody who ate with him, drank his wine, helped harvest grapes, and played Assault Golf afterall the others had gone home. It had to be one of ten or so close friends.
    Sunny tried to stop thinking. She sipped the hot wine and felt it go all the way down. A wave of relaxation came over her despite her flickering thoughts. She made her way back to bed and promptly fell into a deep, sound sleep.
    It took several rings before she understood that the sound was the telephone, and a couple more rings before she realized that she should get up and go answer it. She shuffled out of the darkness of the bedroom into the kitchen, where a strong late-morning sun shone through the window. She picked up the receiver, struggling to pull herself out of the underworld of sleep. It was Wade. She looked at the clock. Close to eleven.
    “Sorry to wake you. You’re sleeping late.”
    “Yeah, I guess so.”
    “Listen, Sun, I’m in town, down at the police station. Steve Harvey and another officer came by this morning with a search warrant for the rifle. When they found out I didn’t have it, they arrested me.”
    Sunny was instantly awake. “Wade, are you in jail?”
    “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
    “Okay. Okay. Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. I’m worried, and I’m in jail, but I’m fine.”
    “Okay. This is getting sort of serious. We need to get organized. What can I do?”
    She was glad he didn’t waste time hedging or apologizing for putting her out. They made a list. Take care of Farber the cat. That was easy enough, he was mostly wild anyway. Bring down a toothbrush and other toiletries. Call Harry and make sure hehas everything he needs to get the legal aspects moving. Take a Brix reading from every other section of the vineyard as often as possible, ideally every four hours. Brix was the measurement of the sugar content in the grapes. If it looked like a section was going to get close to twenty-four degrees Brix within a day, Wade wanted her to let him know as soon as possible.
    “From what I can tell, it’s going to be a little cooler today. If that’s the case, we’re probably good for another day or two. Assuming I can get out of here on bail, we can harvest on Tuesday or Wednesday.”
    “I can take care of all that, but we need to focus on what’s really important. We need to find that gun,” said Sunny.
    “This is one hell of a time to be sitting in jail,” said Wade irritably. “I’ve got twenty-eight tons of grapes just about to turn into either wine or raisins, and I’m doing yoga in a six-byeight cell.”
    “Wade, are you being funny? This is not funny.”
    “I’m in denial, Sun. And I am doing yoga. What else am I supposed to do in here?”
    “I don’t mean to be a downer, but you do realize what this all means.”
    He was quiet and she was sorry she’d said it. Of course he knew what this meant, he was in jail on suspicion of murder. When he spoke his voice was low and serious. He said, “Sunny, go find that gun and get me the heck out of here.” It was more prayer than request.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll find it,” she said, and set the receiver back in the cradle. The sun warmed her back as she stood staring at the telephone.
    In the shower, it occurred to her that from now on, the police would be more interested in proving that Wade Skord was guiltythan that he was innocent. If that gun wasn’t simply misplaced, it would be up to her to prove that Wade didn’t kill Jack Beroni, and to do that she’d have to find out who did. She stood directly