Death Indoors: Target Practice Mysteries 4 (5 page)

I checked my phone and sighed. It was time to go inside and settle in. Even though practice didn't start for another half hour, I wanted to have all my equipment on and start warming up. I gave Moo one last scratch on the rump and waded through the snow back to Liam, who was chatting with our local law enforcement officer, Brian.

"Hey, Brian." I extended a hand. "I saw you competing this morning. How did it go?"

He shook my hand then rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, it went okay. I've never competed in a tournament like this, but it's fun. I'm sure you're gonna kill it."

My stomach did flip-flops. "Oh, don't be so sure about that. You taking off or staying?"

"Staying. They waived my tournament fees if I helped the tournament staff with security and manpower."

Though the tournament was at the training center, we weren't doing much except manning the practice range. A nearby archery club was running the tournament, providing the director of shooting and judges, and had arranged all the registration. They paid the center a small rental fee, and the rest of the money was theirs to keep. It was a great exchange, since the center staff was either coaching or shooting the tournament.

"Security? Come on, really?"

"Considering the number of murders you've had here, you might consider full-time security." He gave us a rueful grin.

I hushed him.

The front door of the center slammed shut, and Minx joined us. "If we get to vote on who gets murdered, I vote for Coach Ron." She took Moo's leash from me and handed it to Liam. "Come on, Di. It's time to warm up."

As we walked into the hallway, the warm air of the building pushed in on me. I shed my coat, kicked off my boots, and jogged to my office. We were constantly in search of the perfect comfortable athletic shoe that was stable when we shot. Minx had on golf shoes, while I grabbed a pair of black high-top Converse.

I padded behind Minx to the chairs we had reserved and laced up my shoes.

She stood close and tapped her foot. "Hurry up."

The flipping in my stomach went overtime, and my throat felt like I had something lodged halfway down. "Ease up. I'm stressed enough already."

Her facial expression softened. "Hey, it'll be okay." She sat in the chair next to me as I finished tying my other shoe. "Just focus on strong shots."

I rolled my eyes at her. "I know I'm in bad shape if you're being nice to me." I stood up and grabbed my quiver off the chair then slid my chest protector and arm guard on.

"Fine, Princess. Get your butt onto the range to warm up before I kick it." She kicked at me with a move from our weekly cardio class. I dodged with a giggle. "I've got to get back to the practice range, but I'll be back to check on you later."

I moved to the far side of the range, where Tiger and Mouse were warming up with Jess. My quiver swayed as I walked and banged into my leg until I stilled it with my right hand. With my equipment on, I felt protected, like I was wearing armor. Kids and parents were moving around, grabbing chairs and tables to lay out their supplies for the afternoon. There were books, notebooks, knitting projects, spotting scopes, and entire mobile bow repair kits everywhere. Empty bow cases littered the range, blocking seats and walkways.

I checked that no one had stolen my chairs, but Liam and Moo were stationed there, protecting them. He smiled at me and went back to talking to a judge in a red shirt and khaki pants. The entire tournament staff wore a similar combination.

Jess spotted me across the range and crossed her arms. "Di, quit dinking around and get over here."

I sucked air through my teeth. Jess was a drill sergeant, even if we had been friends for years. "Sorry, Jess. I'm here."

She pursed her lips but didn't say anything as I started windmilling my arms to warm up and loosen my shoulder joints. The movement felt great. I twisted and bent and moved, anything to give the energy in my body a place to go. I was bending over to touch the floor when someone touched my back, and I jumped a mile.

"Di? Are you alright?" Jess had an eyebrow quirked at me, while Tiger chuckled.

I took a slow, deep breath in for a count of five then slowly exhaled for another five before I answered. "Yeah, just a little wound up." I pressed my right arm across my chest, grabbing it with the left hand to stretch out my back.

"Get out your stretch band."

I grabbed the green elastic loop that hung over my arrows in the quiver. The resistance was minimal, but it allowed us to practice our shot without a bow. I put my finger sling around the band to make sure I didn't shoot it across the range. Jess stood to my right and slightly behind me as I ran through a few shots, gently reinforcing and correcting my form.

The PA system overhead crackled and snapped, then a voice echoed across the range. "Archers, we'll begin the practice rounds in ten minutes. Ten minutes. We'll have three practice ends and immediately go into scoring." The static stopped with a click.

I started to strip off my quiver. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Jess waved me away. "Go."

I jogged through the crowd and dropped my quiver on the empty chair next to Liam while the announcer asked the range to move the bow cases out of the way. Bursting into the hallway, I headed to the bathroom. I took a few extra seconds to splash water on my face and note the dark rings of sweat under my armpits soaking through my jersey.

"Just great," I mumbled to myself and caught a whiff of the acrid, bitter smell of sweat. I had a spare jersey in my office. For a split second I debated grabbing it and changing right now, but my stomach seized at the thought of being away from the range for even a second.

I jogged back into the range as they announced five minutes until practice started. I put on my quiver and sat.

Liam looked at me, studying my face. "Are you okay?"

"What?" My voice was louder than I had intended. "Yeah, why? What do you mean?"

"You seem a little... intense?"

"No, I'm good. I'm fine." I stared straight ahead, rearranging my arrows so my best three were in a compartment all their own. I didn't believe me, and I doubt Liam did either, but he didn't say anything. He just placed a warm hand on my back and rubbed back and forth for a second before placing it on the back of my chair.

"What format is this tournament?"

I looked at him, surprised.

"Sorry, there're a lot of tournaments. I can't keep up with all of them."

"Three hundred round, ten ends of three then a short break. I think they did fifteen minutes during the morning line. Then a second three hundred round. Tomorrow is the same thing." I stood up, grabbed my bow, and moved to the waiting line, dropping my bow stand next to a row of them. The redhead student, the star student that Coach Ron had kicked me off the line for, was to my left, and a girl was on my right. I rolled my shoulders and told myself that I would be okay.

***

After three practice ends, I was right. It was okay, not good, certainly not great, but not awful either. But okay wasn't good enough, at least not by my standards. Jess had done a lot to prepare me for my first foray back into competitive archery. I knew that people would stand close, but I didn't realize how claustrophobic it could feel. I knew I would have nerves, but I didn't realize how it would make my bow arm jerk all over the target, or that I would sweat like a pig.

And no one warned me about the coaches. They inched up on the line, hovering over their archers. It made the anxiety ball up in my throat, strangling me. And of course, Star, the redheaded girl, was behind me. She must have been Coach Ron's favorite student, because he spent all three practice ends inches from my back, coaching her. His body heat invaded my space as he muscled her arm into the proper follow-through position. He started talking the second the single whistle to shoot was blown and didn't stop until she stepped off the line. Mary told me between practice ends that he would need to move behind the waiting line once the tournament started.

It was the first end of scoring, and whatever nerves I had worked out during practice flared up when the announcement sounded overhead, indicating the time had come. I was up first this end to shoot my three arrows, then the second group was up, then we would go down to the target to score and pull. I was on the same target mat with a young blond girl with braces, and a very serious older teenage boy.

I took my place on the line between two girls, a redheaded teenager and a younger blond gal. I took a slow, deep breath and prepared to shoot. The girl in front of me started shooting, her entire shirt quivering as she fought her bow at full draw. I nocked an arrow and set my shoulders when Coach Ron's voice startled me as he talked to the redheaded teenager behind me.

"Nice, strong shots. Shoulders back. Stay in line. Focus on the X. Good follow-through." He continued on, words piling out on top of words. He was no longer hovering three inches behind me. Instead, he was behind the waiting line three meters back using his outside voice.

This couldn't be happening. My pulse pounded in my ears as my palm slipped in the grip of the bow from sweat. Anxiety prickled all down my spine, and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I looked into the crowd. A few people were glaring at him, but no one was making a move to stop him. I caught Jess's eyes, and she flicked her hands toward the target and mouthed, "Shoot."

The large timers between the shooting line and the targets were counting down quickly. No matter how annoyed I was, I didn't want to run out of time. Focus on strong shots. I pulled back, locked onto the X in the middle of the gold rings, and shot as aggressively as possible despite my shaking arm. The arrow winged off the right. Two more shots, and each time the arrow hit the target, but not in the center as I hoped.

The archers on either side were already off the line, so I stepped off and set my bow on the stand. I tried to keep my face smooth instead of grimacing in frustration. I walked around the bows, careful not to clip the limbs of the bows that dangled into the walkway, and flopped into the seat next to Liam. Mary and Orion had pulled over two chairs and were talking to Liam. As I approached, everyone's eyes swiveled to me.

I held my quiver out to the side so I could sit on the chair. "Fine. It's going fine."

Liam continued to chat with Mary and Orion, but he placed a hand along the back of my chair, brushing up against my back as I stared straight ahead. I had dropped a couple of points below my average minimum on each arrow I shot. Over the course of the round, that would be twenty to forty points total, forty to eighty points for the day. I guessed this was why Jess kept telling me to focus on form over score.

I could give up now, three arrows in, or I could try my best even when I was shooting badly. I already felt wrung out and exhausted. I threw my shoulders back. I would have the best attitude and the best form I could, even if I shot all misses for the rest of the day. I would smile and try to have a nice time. My decision made, I turned back to the group with a big smile.

Mary caught my eyes. "You okay? Your face looks funny."

The whistle blew to score and pull the arrows from our first end. "This is my happy face."

Mary did not look convinced.

I moved to the line and boogied to catch up with my target mates as they approached the target. A serious boy picked the clipboard off the ground. "My name is Matt. I'd like to do the paper scoring."

"I'm Di." I smiled at them. "I can do whatever."

"I'm--" The blond girl with braces sneezed into the bend of her elbow, muffling out a name that was either Carol, Carolyn or perhaps, Caroline, "Jones. Can I do the electronic scoring?"

"Sure, Davey Jones," I blurted out. That left me to call the arrows on each target, listing the highest-value arrow to lowest. Serious Matt and Davey Jones scored them and confirmed they had the same running score.

Davey looked at me and giggled. "Davey Jones, argh. Where's me booty?"

I giggled with her until I noticed that Matt was tapping his pencil on the clipboard. "Sorry, I'm up first." I called my arrows and waited for Davey Jones and Matt to record the scores and then compare the end score. Next they checked the running score. Once all three of us were scored, we marked the target next to the arrows as a precaution in case we had an arrow that shot through the target, then pulled our arrows.

Many of the targets had four archers and were still scoring when we were done. Judges were called over to verify the score at targets where the archers disagreed on the value of an arrow. Matt grabbed his arrows and jetted back to the line. I hung back to wait for Davey Jones to carefully check each arrow.

She was cute, with bangs that flipped out on the sides like tiny wings. Her braces had colored elastic, yellow, like the center of the target. "They say that you work here?"

I nodded. "Yep, I'm the director of technology."

"What's that?"

"I take care of all the computer stuff." That seemed the easiest way to describe it.

She squealed and grabbed my arm. "No way, I love computers. Like websites and video games and stuff like that."

"That's great. It's a wonderful career."

As we walked back to the shooting line, she excitedly told me about the video games she played and how she used spreadsheets to track how most efficiently to gain experience to level up. I didn't know what games she meant, but it didn't seem to matter so long as I smiled and nodded.