Page 45 of Shadowed Obsession

I’ve done more than I’m proud of and haven’t been the most respectful of her boundaries. The most egregious prior to the panty stealing was hacking into her home surveillance system and wire-tapping her devices.

Truthfully, she could benefit from being more careful and stop using the same damn password for everything.

In my true caretaker fashion—at least when it comes to Doe—I know I’ve got to do something about that.

Note to self: Tell her to update her passwords.

18/

bullseye

Deirdre

5:28 p.m. | ‘the third incident’

Please don’t make this weird, I think as I place my driver’s license in the hands of the attendant. I’m not sure if I’m reminding myself or hoping he doesn’t. I don’t miss his crinkled brow or the double take as his eyes flit back and forth from the card to my face.

I can see those wheels turning and offer a soft smile to confirm his suspicions.

I am one of those Klarkes.

He nods and returns my identification, clearing his throat. I glance at his name tag. Jeb.

What kind of day are we about to have, Jeb?

“Alrighty. What’re you in the mood for, ma’am? Bullseye or silhouette? Handguns, rifles, shotguns?” he asks, pointing over to the guns displayed behind him.

“Paper bullseye, and I brought my own, actually.” He looks at me expectantly, and I clear my throat before I say, “A nine millimeter handgun.“

“Ahh. Good one. Need bullets?”

“Yes, please?”

He nods assuredly, reaching beneath the counter to search the case below.

“115 or heavier?”

“115 FMJ is perfect,” I glance around as I try to speak low enough so only he can hear.

His brows raise, and his hands feel around the case before landing on the target and my preferred brand of ammo. I nod, confirming my selection, and he returns to full height, setting the bullets and rolled poster on the counter.

“You know your stuff.”

“I do,” is all I offer in response.

He announces the total, and I reach into my handbag, thumbing through bills. I hold two twenty-dollar bills out for him.

He hands back the change, slides the box of ammunition across the counter, and watches me gather my things.

“Thank you, Jeb. Have a great night,” I say softly, placing my earplugs in my ears as I catch his response.

“You, too, darling. Holler if you need anything.” He tips his chin in the direction I’m meant to go.

I offer him a small smile and follow where he gestures toward the entrance to the range.

It’s spacious with many vacant stalls, and I walk past several, trying to decide which one I’d like to use once I secure my things in the locker room.

I slow to a stop when a familiar scent permeates, causing my brain to damn near short-circuit. My heart rate elevates, and I speed forward, not bothering to search for the source.

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