He led her past the sweating men to the building next door.It was painted a dark, ominous shade of gray, and there were no windows.“This is our kill house,” he said.“Or call it a shoot house, either one.It has five-inch-thick walls, with two-inch ballistic rubber over AR500-rated steel panels.”
“Ah, so you won’t get ricochets on bullet spatter?”She did know a few things about guns and gunfire.
“Right.All safety protocols are strictly enforced.We can move partitions and change the configuration, so nobody knows what’s waiting inside.We have holographic images of armed terrorists and of sweet moms pushing baby strollers we project onto walls.Inside are mannequins and dummies we move around, even putting them high in the rafters.”
They watched as a small group of men fully outfitted in tactical gear and carrying heavy firearms prepared to enter the shoot house.At the door, they stacked up in close formation and waited for the instructor to yell, “Go!”
The men disappeared inside, and Sarah heard the muffledpop pop popof gunfire.The entire affair fascinated her.“So,” she said, “you send in teams to clear out an enemy stronghold?And they don’t know what they’ll find?”
He nodded in approval.“Exactly right.It hones a man’s reaction times while teaching him not to shoot at innocents.”
“Serious business,” she said, then turned to him with enthusiasm.“Can I try?I want to see the holograms and stuff.”
He frowned at her as though she’d grown longhorn steer horns.“It’s not a video game in there.We use live rounds!”
“Well ...I’m a decent shot.”She pursed her lips.
“Have you completed a Level Three training course given by a licensed school and instructor?Are you certified as an armed security guard?”
“Well, no.”
“Then not today, Sweet Pea.”
Disappointed he wouldn’t let her go inside, she was nonetheless distracted by his endearment.“Sweet Pea!”
“Yeah.”He looked unashamed.
She had to get him back.“All right, then, Wicked Ben.”
He raised a brow.“Huh?”
“That’s what your office staff calls you.Especially Marge.You’re Wicked Ben.So, tell me, exactly how are you wicked?”
She couldn’t believe it when he shifted his weight in discomfort.He looked embarrassed.There was a mystery here.“I’m not,” he said.“I’m nice.”
“I’m going to pry it out of Marge,” she promised, determined to do it.“I’ll find out.”
Looking pained, Ben pivoted on his heel and led her back to the office, yet not to the front.He opened a door in the rear of the building and showed her inside.“About fifteen new guys are hiring on,” he said, and his change of subject wasn’t lost on her.“They’re from another firm and they’ll be here tomorrow.Two of them are bringing SEAL-trained dogs.Belgian Malinois.What do you think of this room to house them?”
She stopped, surprised.“You’re asking me?Haven’t you already decided?”
“No.I want your opinion.You’ve raised dogs.I haven’t.”
Flattered, she nonetheless wrinkled her nose.“Coop up active dogs inside?Mine would hate it.”She glanced around.“You might place their beds in here.And throw in some toys.And could you build a flap door to a dog run so they have access to play outdoors?Also, some grass for their bathroom.”
He rubbed his jaw.“I suppose we could do that.We can’t have them running around the office when they’re here.Too distracting.We need a place for them during the day.At night, they’ll go home with their handlers.So, your idea answers the problem.I’ll have a dog door and outdoor run built.”
“And grass,” Sarah said.
She was glad to help, but the tabloid story had upset her and she felt restless.This wasn’t her business.Texas wasn’t her home.A sudden homesick pang rattled through her.She was a Montana girl through and through.She wished she could be safe at home, with Big Jim and her own dogs, with Milly and even her new chickens.She wondered how the coop was coming along.
Crossing her arms over her body, she asked, “Ben, how long will I need to stay here?”
“No way to tell,” Ben said.“We have to let Chief King do his job.We still don’t know where Ridley Kemper is holed up.I’d like the FBI involved, but nothing has happened in your case under their jurisdiction.No crime has been committed on federal property or to a federal employee.There hasn’t been a kidnapping or bank robbery.They still view this as isolated to you, so it’s being handled locally.”He looked at her.“And by me.”
“Of course you’ll know when it’s safe for me to return, but at some point, I have to go home.”She bit her lip.“I’d really like to be there for the Rhubarb Festival celebration.”
“Sarah.”He sounded pained.“You can’t be involved in a public gathering like that.The logistics of protecting you in a crowd would be impossible.”
