The Beretta went off in his hand with a silenced pop. His shoulder took the recoil, but it was little more than a nudge. Ahead of him, a bullet hit the tree and splintered wood into a hundred pieces. Morgan lowered the weapon and nodded with approval.
“You’re a pretty good shot,” Mason said, leaning against a tree beside him. He’d changed into the clothes that Bill had brought and was now wearing dark jeans and a shirt under a long, beige trench coat. His arms were folded across his chest. “It’s actually kind of annoying.”
“How so?”
“It takes most people years to get that good.. It took you just a few hours.”
“Ah well, I’m sure my shoulder will feel it soon enough.”
“That’s the price we pay.”
Morgan smiled halfheartedly and glanced back toward the motel. It was a five-minute walk back to the room, which was just far enough for nobody to hear the explosion of bullets striking the trees. Lucky for them, the motel was backed by the woods, otherwise they’d have had nowhere to practice at all.
“Here comes your friend,” he said.
“Hmm?” It was Mason’s turn to look, leaning around the tree and facing the dark silhouette that stalked up the shallow rise toward them. In the dark of night, it was difficult to see any details, but he suspected this was Bill.
“Listen. How exactly do you know him?”
“Bill?”
Morgan nodded, still watching.
“We go way back. Why?”
“I just wonder who I can trust. There’s nothing wrong with the guy, but I know Gary and I’m slowly getting to know you. Bill’s a cop, right? So who’s to say he won’t arrest us once we tackle Erika?”
The idea made him shudder. Or was it the frost?
Mason cleared his throat and approached him, locking eyes for the first time since they’d been outside. “I get it, you’re nervous, but you can’t start questioning our reliability. All you need to know is that we’re going to do our best, and nobody’s going to screw you over.”
“And if it comes down to it,” Morgan said, “who deals with Erika?”
“I’ve already been there and made that mistake.”
“Mistake?” A burst of panic shot through him. “You’ve been encouraging this.”
“Because I know how you feel.” Mason stepped back and traipsed over to the tree where the bullets had hit, wiping off the dead bark with his hands and then wiping them on his coat. “I would never endorse the idea of shooting Erika, but I want you to be prepared for all scenarios. Imagine if it came down to you or her. Hell, imagine if it came to Robin or her. Do you really want to be there knowing you could’ve done something to stop it? Everybody makes mistakes, Morgan, but sometimes the things you do in the heat of the moment—or even the things you just think are right at the time—they might look ugly, but it could be the only option. Just think of it as the condom rule.”
Morgan tilted his head. “The condom rule?”
“Wow,” Mason said sarcastically, turning back to him. “That’s what you took from that?”
“Just… what’s the condom rule?”
“That it’s better to have one and not need it, rather than need one and not have it.”
“Of course.” Morgan tutted and shifted his attention to the footsteps slapping up beside him. Bill’s thin hair was a mess, and the black circles under his eyes were visible even in the dark. It made him wonder if he’d slept, and Morgan felt a pang of jealousy for that—his own eyes probably looked as bad as they felt, which was dry and heavy.
Bill stood in the opening between two bare trees, looking from one of them to the other. “How’s the practice coming along?”
“Good,” Mason said. “Did you get some sleep?”
“A little, but now it’s time to go. Gary’s getting the car ready.”
Morgan glanced down and noticed the gun was trembling in his hand. He felt the weight of it in his palm and squeezed his fingers around it. He had to get hold himself and make sure he was ready. The time had come to be a man, and that meant backing his fear into a corner and telling it to leave him the hell alone. It was hard not to feel powerful while holding a lethal killing device in his hand, but he managed. He just had to own it, closing off his mind and leaving no room for cowardice. “Can I have a couple more minutes?”
“For what?” Bill asked.
“I just want to see if I can hit the tree a few more times.”
Bill looked at Mason, who nodded. “Fine. Two minutes. I’ll see you back at the car.” He headed back the way he came, turning back into a mere silhouette that shrank as he gained distance and was finally out of sight.
“Look at me,” Mason said, meeting his eyes again. “No more thinking. You have to be prepared to act fast, so I want you to turn and hit that tree as fast and accurately as possible. Don’t think, don’t let your mind wander. Just do it. Ready? Go!”
Morgan snapped his head around and raised the pistol. It was as if somebody had taken over his body. He raised his arms and coiled his finger around the trigger like a snake, squeezing the second he looked down the sights.
Ahead, the tree whined as flakes of bark flew off in different directions.
“Good,” Mason said, giving a single clap. “You’re ready.”