Chapter Thirty

Sour Truth

W illow tried to absorb what Dale told her. She’d listened to her grandmother gripe about the Hoggs, Dale, and other law enforcement. Willow hated to admit it, but she enjoyed the stories. They were life on the outside, and she replayed them in her head each night when she couldn’t sleep, which was often.

She didn’t feel Dale was responsible for her grandmother’s death. Though what he’d told her explained a lot. He was so good to her, and she’d known it had to be more than loving her grandmother. It was his guilt, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Instead of tackling the issues that would make him feel better right now, she decided to open up to him. He deserved the truth too.

“I killed my father,” she said .

He nodded. “I know that.”

“He abused my mother physically. He did more than that to me.” She looked down. “My mother found out and she snapped. She went after him with a bat. He beat her to death with his bare hands. I hated him. I told my lawyer what really happened that night. He said I needed to keep it to myself. My grandmother never knew the truth.” She looked into her cup, then back at Dale. “I think I’ll try some of your nerve-calming juice,” she said.

Dale handed the flask over, and she poured in about half of what he’d put in his mug. She handed the silver container back and took a sip. She choked. A small grin appeared on Dale’s lips, which made it worth it.

When she had her breathing under control, she continued. “My lawyer claimed self-defense, but the jury didn’t buy it because they were right. My dad killed my mom, but afterward, he curled up on the floor and cried. He even told me to call the police. Instead, I took a baseball bat and beat him to death. I got the sentence I deserved. I just never wanted to disappoint my grandmother because she had her own guilt. She didn’t even know my dad had moved us back to Arizona. I was the only person she had, and she was the same for me. I never planned to tell her.”

“Your dad got exactly what he deserved. I would do it for you if we could go back. Why are you telling me?” he asked gently .

“We can’t go back. Maybe my grandmother would be alive, and maybe she wouldn’t. If what happened with my dad happened again, I would kill him, even knowing my fate.”

It took Dale a moment, and then he smiled. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“I thought you would look at me like a murderer,” she said, refusing to let tears form in her eyes.

He stood and sat beside her on the couch. “I never had a daughter. You’re too young for that, but I do think of you as my granddaughter. I definitely love you like one.”

In Willow’s entire life, only her grandmother had told her she was loved. There was no stopping the tears now. Dale wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. When she gained control, he pulled away and looked at her.

“Can you forgive me for not being there for Joan?” he asked.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Is this why you retired?”

“There were lots of reasons, but what happened with Joan was very high on the list.” He paused for a moment. “After this incident with the peeping Tom, you need to learn to shoot. We’re going to the range tomorrow. As your grandfather, I have the right to make demands occasionally, and you have the right to tell me to jump in a creek. I won’t be around forever, and you need to know how to defend yourself with more than a baseball bat.”

Dale didn’t hate her. He didn’t look at her like a monster. He even teased her about using a baseball bat, which she never thought she would smile at. But she did and nodded. “Okay, but I’m not happy about learning to shoot, and I’ll probably be horrible at it. I don’t want to accidentally kill you or one of the dogs.”

“Women are naturally more gifted at shooting than men. You’ll do fine.”

“What are you going to do about the man at the window?”

“You and I are going to track him if you’re willing. We’re not professionals, but we’ll find him.”

“You sure you don’t want to call the sheriff’s department?” She asked carefully.

“They won’t do anything.” Steel shone in his eyes.

“I’ll learn to shoot, and help you follow his tracks. I want to feel safe and right now, I don’t.”

“We’ll change that,” Dale said.

As soon as the sun came up, they locked the dogs inside the house, and Dale drove her to the range.

“The berm is used by the locals. It’s not an actual shooting range, but safety applies with all guns no matter where you are.”

He went through his safety rules as he drove. Everything he said seemed logical. A gun was always loaded, even if you just removed the bullets. Never point a gun unless you plan to shoot it. His last bit of advice made her smile.

“If you do need to shoot a human being, make sure there’s only one person alive to give their side of the story.” He held up his hand. “I know that didn’t work for you at fifteen, but you have good instincts, and I have no problem that you killed a man who deserved it. We’re not the judge and jury, but sometimes you need to take a stand. I’m proud of you for taking yours.”

He unloaded the equipment and guns after they arrived at the berm.

“I’ll show you how to clean them when we get home. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He set up a few metal targets. He stapled a paper one between two wooden props covered in cardboard. After securing eye and ear protection that made her feel silly, he walked her through firing, ejecting the magazine, and inserting a new one. When it was time to aim, she had more confidence than she thought she’d have.

It took a few adjustments before she hit the target, and that was outside the outer circle. Within ten minutes, she was hitting the target each time. Dale moved her farther back, and they started again. Her confidence grew with each round.

“They make small peashooter .22s that can be carried in a pocket,” Dale said. “I don’t recommend them, but if you’re uncomfortable having something showing on your hip or carrying the shotgun, we can compromise. They would most likely hurt a rattler. The noise might even scare off a mountain lion.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face when it came time to learn about the shotgun. Dale had been right. Learning to shoot made her feel calmer about guns. Not safer, but more aware. She would keep the shotgun in her grandmother’s closet. With a little prodding, she might wear a handgun on her hip, but that was for another day.

It took an hour to clean everything, including the magazines, once they were home. She almost forgot about the man at the window.

Almost.