The line of oak trees created a horizontal shadow in the distance from the setting sun. Above the shadow, the hill in the background formed a backdrop of greens and oranges as the sun reflected off the grass and wild flowers. In the shadow below, the greens were darker or gray. A series of white discs hung from branches, appearing to hover in mid-air. They hung by monofilament line attached to large branches, twisting lazily in the air like a giant mobile, out of place in the natural setting. The plate on the left turned slowly showing a circle, and then a line as its edge faced the trees and then again, a circle. Then it shattered, leaving a cloud of plaster dust in its place and a loud explosion sounded and echoed off the hill.
The Governor exhaled the remaining air in his lungs and took another breath, as he lay prone on the ground, his eye still at the eyepiece of the scope attached to the rifle cradled across his left arm.
“Very nice. Good timing, just left of center,” the voice said from behind the Governor. Vadim had arranged for the Governor to visit a shooting range run by one of his friends west of the Twin Cities metro area. The men he met here had a variety of rifles for him to choose from and were providing him with some instruction. “Try again. The next plate. Remember to watch the target, anticipate, breathe, relax. It is not too much to remember, no?”
“I’ve got it,” the Governor responded as he watched the plate spin in the circle of the scope, trying to keep the cross hairs centered on it as it came into full view with each revolution.
“When you are near ready, take a full breath, release part of it, and gently pull the trigger.”
The Governor tried to relax as he lay on the ground, the rifle resting on a dead tree that had fallen, and was bare of bark. He wanted to practice in as close to real conditions as he could create. The plate turned slowly, approximately a quarter of a mile away. Taking a deep breath, the Governor tried to ignore the sweat that ran down his temples and back. He exhaled slowly, held his breath. The circle in the scope turned to a line and started to form a circle on the next revolution. He gently pulled the trigger, increasing the pressure on it, feeling it resist until the force of his pull overcame it and the rifle barked, ramming its stock back into his shoulder, causing the Governor to blink. He refocused on the plate and saw it spinning rapidly, a small chip gone from its edge.
“Try again. That is good enough for your purposes. Three more plates and we’ll move on to another exercise.”
The Governor repeated the process, hitting the target on each of his subsequent tries. The rifle began to feel more comfortable in his grip and his confidence grew. The barrel of the rifle felt warm against the skin of his hand. He sat up and reloaded to prepare for the exercise his teachers had planned for him next. The ammunition was not large. He was using smaller rounds to keep the sound down, a quieter “pop” instead of a louder “boom.” The bullets would be effective despite their size.
It had been a long day. Ross needed somebody to talk with so Jack had hung out with him at his apartment for a while when he’d dropped him off. The injury, its effect on his ability to sleep, what had happened to Sandy, it was all taking a toll on Ross, whether he was ready to admit it or not. It was mostly Sandy. Ross had really been interested in her and he was going to get hit hard over the next couple of days by the pain in his heart.
At home now, Jack looked at his watch and swore. It was too late to call the kids and wish them a good night. He tried to remember when he’d talked to them last. The days were a blur for him too. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and a bag of pretzels off the counter and sat on the couch in front of the television, using the remote to flip through the stations to catch up with what was happening in the rest of the world. The Twins beat Detroit six to three, rain was in the forecast…again, no tornados had been spotted today, fireworks displays were planned around the metro area whether it rained or not, and there wasn’t any mention of a bank robbery or a homicide. The Governor and the bank robbery/murder were already old news unless something new happened that the public needed to know. Jack thought he better talk about public relations with Junior tomorrow.
The funeral today had been tough. He missed his kids as they spent the night with Julie at her parents’ house, but he couldn’t imagine what he would do if they were killed. Mr. Humphrey was going to have a tough summer ahead of him. It would be a while before the memory of the small casket didn’t stir up strong emotions in Jack’s soul.
Jack tipped back the beer and drained it. A small belch escaped his lips. The news ended and went to the introduction to the Late Show with David Letterman. Jack couldn’t decide if he wanted another beer or bed until he heard who was going to be a guest tonight. Salma Hayek was on to promote her new movie so Jack got up at the commercial to get himself another beer from the fridge.
After popping off the bottle cap from a Bass Ale, Jack picked up the phone and debated whether or not to call Julie and talk about the Fourth of July. He put the phone to his ear and heard the multiple beeps indicating he had a message. He punched in the code in the handset of the cordless phone as he walked back to settle down in front of the television again. Jack smiled at the message on the phone and followed that up with an excited exclamation of a whispered “all right”. Julie had decided that the four of them should get together for the Fourth of July celebration on Nicollet Island, keeping the family tradition alive. He replayed the message three times before saving it to make sure he heard it right and also just to listen to his wife’s voice. The second message was from Patty. She said she had some information for him on the Governor case and wanted to talk with him tonight.
Jack dialed Patty’s number. It was ten-forty. It might be late, but she wanted to talk with him tonight. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the phone ringing and waited for her to answer.
She answered on the second ring. “Jack.”
“Hey, uh, yeah. How did you know it was me? I’m the only one calling you this late?” he asked.
“Caller ID, Jack.”
Jack closed his eyes and rested his head back against the throw pillow. The beer was overcoming the effects of the day and he was suddenly very tired. “Right. You have some information for me?”
“I do, but I don’t want to share it over the phone.”
“It’s been a long day, Patty. You’ll have to tell me over the phone or share it with me tomorrow. I need to go to sleep.”
“Tomorrow’s fine. If you’re running in the morning, I can be outside your house before the sun comes up. We’ll get out while it’s not too hot and I can share the information with you.”
She wasn’t going to give up. Jack thought about the first call on his voicemail from Julie, and inhaled and exhaled through his nose. He told himself Patty’s call meant nothing. She had some information she wanted to share and if it took a run with her to get her to share it, he would do it.
“Jack, you still there?” Patty asked.
Jack opened his eyes. “Yeah. If you’re up for six miles, be outside my house at five thirty and I’ll show you some nice paths along the river.”