joint and the three billy goats gruff trounced the evil troll and lived
happily ever after in their new pasture of grass. Sounded nice. Where
could she buy some? And then, undressing for bed, Reynolds would
endure spasms of crushing guilt. The reality was that her kids would
be grown and gone before she blinked her eyes twice, and she routinely
shortchanged them on three short fairy tales because she wanted to do
something so unimportant as sleep. Sometimes it was better not to
think too much. Reynolds was a classic overachiever and a
perfectionist, to boot, while a “perfect parent” was the world’s
greatest oxymoron.
“I’ll try my best. I promise.”
The disappointed look on her daughter’s face made Reynolds turn and
flee the room. She stopped at the small room on the first floor that
served as her study. From the top of a cabinet she removed a squat,
heavy metal box, which she unlocked. Removing her SIG 9mm, she loaded
in a fresh mag, pulled the slide back to chamber a round, clicked the
safety on, slid the weapon in her clip holster and was out the door
before she could think any more about another interrupted meal in a
long string of disappointments for her children. Superwoman: career,
kids, she had it all. Now, if she could only clone herself. Nice.
CHAPTER 29
LEE AND FAITH HAD MADE TWO STOPS ON THE WAY to North Carolina, once for
a late lunch at a Cracker Barrel and another at a large strip mall in
southern Virginia. Lee had seen a billboard off the highway
advertising a week-long gun show. The parking lot was packed with
pickup trucks RVs and cars with fat tires and engines erupting through
their hoods Some of the men were dressed in Polo and Chaps, and others
in Grateful Dead T-shirts and ragged jeans. Americans of all
backgrounds apparently loved their guns. “Why here?” Faith asked as
Lee got off the bike. “Virginia law requires that licensed gun dealers
conduct on-the-spot background checks on people trying to buy weapons,”
he explained. “You have to fill out a form, have your gun permit and
two forms of identification. But the law doesn’t apply to gun shows.
All they want is your money. Which, by the way, I need.” “Do you
really have to have a gun?” He stared at her as though she had just
hatched from an egg. “Every body coming after us has them.” Unable to
dispute this devastating logic, she said nothing more, gave him the
cash and huddled on the bike as he went inside. Leave it to thetman to
say something that would paralyze her very soul. Inside, Lee purchased
a Smith & Wesson double-action auto pistol {with a fifteen-round mag,
chambering 9mm Parabellums. The auto pistol tag was misleading. You
had to pull the trigger each time to fire. The “auto” term referred to
the fact that the pistol automatically loaded a new round with each
pull of the trigger. He also bought a box of ammo and a cleaning kit
and then returned to the parking lot.
Faith watched closely as he packed the gun and ammo away in the
motorcycle’s storage compartment.
“Feel safer now?” she asked dryly.
“Right now I wouldn’t feel safe sitting in the Hoover Building with a
hundred FBI agents staring at me.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
They made Duck, North Carolina, by nightfall, and Faith gave Lee
directions to the house in the Pine Island community.
When they pulled up in front, Lee stared at the immense structure,
tugged off his helmet and turned to her. “I thought you said it was
small.”
“Actually, I think you referred to it as small. I said it was
comfortable.” She climbed off the Honda and stretched out her body.
Every bit of her, especially her butt, was one solid knot.
“It must be at least six thousand square feet.” Lee continued to stare
at the three-story, wooden-shingle-siding house that had dual stone
chimneys and a cedar shake roof. Two broad veranda-style porches ran
across the second and third floors, which gave it a plantation feel.
There were gabled turrets and walls of lattice and glass; and immense