PART 2 — The Shot Thomas Never Forgot
Derek stopped laughing.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second was that Thomas Granger had moved behind my lane.
Not coaching.
Watching.
I raised the rifle.
Settled.
Breathed.
The room disappeared.
One shot.
Then another.
Then another.
Five rounds.
Same cadence.
When the target returned, Derek leaned forward.
Five holes.
Almost one.
Martin stared.
“That’s not possible.”
Thomas smiled.
“It is when she’s rusty.”
I looked at him.
“Helpful.”
Derek forced a laugh.
“Okay. She can shoot.”
Thomas’s expression changed.
“That isn’t what made her good.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas looked at me.
I shook my head.
Not here.
He understood.
But Derek didn’t.
“Come on. You already told everyone she was some sniper.”
“Precision shooter,” I corrected.
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Thomas answered before I could.
“Not remotely.”
Derek rolled his eyes.
“So what? She won competitions?”
Thomas went quiet.
Too quiet.
Then he said:
“Claire never cared about competitions.”
Something in his tone shifted the room.
Martin noticed.
“What happened overseas?”
I lowered the rifle.
“Nothing we need to discuss.”
Derek grinned.
“Convenient.”
Thomas looked at him.
“You think she’s avoiding the story because she’s embarrassed?”
Derek shrugged.
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“She’s avoiding it because two people in that story didn’t come home.”
Silence.
Derek’s face changed.
Good.
Thomas continued.
“Mountain observation post. Bad weather. Communications partially down.”
I stared at him.
“Thomas.”
He stopped.
Then nodded.
“Right.”
But Derek had finally become curious.
“What did she do?”
I answered myself.
“My job.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked at me.
Then quietly:
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
He continued anyway.
“We had a wounded communications specialist pinned in exposed terrain. Evacuation couldn’t reach us.”
Vanessa stopped smiling.
“Claire maintained overwatch while we moved him.”
Derek asked:
“For how long?”
Thomas answered:
“Almost seven hours.”
Nobody spoke.
Then he added:
“She made one shot that kept the route open.”
I looked at him sharply.
“That’s enough.”
Thomas nodded.
This time, he stopped.
Derek stared at my right shoulder.
Then my hands.
As though he had suddenly realized they belonged to someone he did not know.
He whispered:
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
That hurt him.
I could see it.
Before he could answer, a younger range employee approached Thomas.
“Sir?”
Thomas turned.
“What?”
“There’s someone in your office asking for Captain Bennett.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
The employee handed him a business card.
Thomas read it.
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“You should see this.”
I took the card.
No company logo.
No title I recognized.
Just a name:
Colonel Matthew Vance.
I had not seen that name in four years.
Not since the operation Thomas had almost described.
Derek frowned.
“Who’s that?”
I slipped the card into my pocket.
“Someone who shouldn’t know I’m here.”
Thomas’s face hardened.
Then the office door opened.
A gray-haired man stepped onto the range.
He looked directly at me.
Not surprised.
Relieved.
“Captain Bennett.”
I stayed still.
Vance stopped ten feet away.
Then said:
“We found the man you thought died on that mountain.”