The Body of David Hayes Read Online Free PDF

electronically return it to a desired distance. Liz was shooting thirty feet. She wore eye and ear gear and a blue business suit with black pinstripes. The indoor firing range was too loud for them to try to carry on a conversation, but she pulled one ear off her headset and shouted above the percussion of reports.
    “Hardly impressive! Nine in the magazine. I only hit the target with three of them.” She pointed out the holes in the black-and-white bottle-shaped target. “You want a go?”
    “No, thanks.”
    “You sure?”
    He assented, pulling hearing protection and goggles off a peg on the wall and accepting the weapon, a slick little nine millimeter. “This doesn’t strike me as you, Liz.”
    “Lou gave it to me a couple years ago. I protested, naturally. But I took a course so I’d know what I’m doing.”
    They had yet to say hello to each other, Liz bearing the burden of what Lou had told her about Danny’s lingering resentment.
    “And now, a renewed interest?” Danny Foreman ran the target out to thirty feet, raised the gun, sighted, and squeezed off a single shot. It struck the target low. He lowered the gun, studied it, raised it a second time and caused Liz to jerk back as he unloaded the magazine with eight incredibly fast consecutive shots. He left a tight pattern, very near the center circle of the target. “Sweet,” he said, placing down the weapon.
    His shooting seemed charged with emotion. Tension hung in the air along with the bitter tang of cordite.
    “I’m truly sorry,” Liz said.
    Foreman tugged the headset off. “What’s that?”
    “Never mind.”
    They chased down a pair of fiberglass chairs in the waiting area in front of two vending machines and a trash can that smelled of burnt coffee grounds. The sign on the wall read NO SMOKING, but there were well-used ashtrays on each of the three round tables. The vinyl floor had been swabbed down with a lemon-scented disinfectant. Foreman offered to clean her gun for her, and she took him up on it, handing him a gray plastic kit of swabs and oil that Lou had given her along with the gun. Foreman’s big hands wrapped around the metal like talons on prey.
    Danny Foreman spoke with a warm, sonorous voice that Liz remembered well, a voice it felt nice to be around.
    She said, “We’ve not seen much of each other, have we? I want you to know that Darlene’s passing hit us both very hard. We miss her—miss you both, Danny—very much.”
    “I could have called. Should have,” he said. “I got this notion it was better to start fresh—a new life, you know? Transferred over to BCI. Bought a little place over to Madison Park. Didn’t change much of anything, though. I miss her badly, Liz.”
    She wasn’t the best at such discussions. Even among her girlfriends, she preferred listening to talking, and when she did speak it was to express her true opinions, most of which were the last thing anyone wanted to hear.
    “There’s no set time for grieving. It’s a process. But speaking as a friend, Lou and I would like to see more of you than we do.”
    “Darlene and I always enjoyed our time with the two of you.”
    “And… here we are.”
    His face screwed up tight. “Yeah, but it’s business. We both know that’s why you called me. Let me tell you something: It makes it all the more difficult for me.”
    In fact, she had called him to test the thickness of the ice, like tossing rocks and watching them skim across the frozen surface. Called him, to edge her boot down onto that ice and listen for the splintering cracks beneath her added weight. If she misjudged or misstepped, she knew the peril she faced. This meeting with Danny would determine how much she shared with Lou, believing it unfair to revisit that pain unless absolutely forced to. She avoided eye contact, focusing on his long fingers and the meticulous way he handled the weapon.
    She said, “He wants me to get him some cash.”
    “Hayes, we’re talking about. Just to make