Death Indoors: Target Practice Mysteries 4 (6 page)

***

By the fourth end, I was starting to settle in. Whatever was going to happen would happen. I sat with Liam when I could, and when we only had a few seconds, I'd sit with Davey and encourage her interest in computers. We shot second during the fourth end, and when it was our turn, we took the line.

Despite my best efforts to ignore Coach Ron, I couldn't block him out completely. Mary had encouraged me to think of it as an opportunity to increase my mental toughness. Mouse, who was two targets down, said she was going to punch him in the face if he didn't cool it soon. I was pulling myself together, and my end score was improving ever so slightly.

Davey finished shooting her arrows and stepped off the line. I finished my last shot and followed her. I stepped back to my bow stand, and Coach Ron had Davey by the arm.

"Do not step off the line when Becky's at full draw." He pointed at the redhead.

Davey's eyes were wide, and she stuttered. "I, I thought--"

"Don't touch her," I said. "She's not next to your student, she's next to me, and she can step off the line whenever she wants." All the frustration that had built up at his constant yapping came tumbling out.

He glared at me. "Don't interfere."

The whistle blew to collect the arrows, but no one in our area moved.

Mouse swooped in. "The rules state that once an archer's done shooting, they must step off the line. That's the rules and that's what she did. Speaking of rules. Judge! Judge!"

A judge stepped toward us. "Yes, Mouse?"

"The rules state that coaches can talk to their students on the line so long as they don't bother the other archers. He's bothering me."

I nodded along.

Coach Ron's face was a brilliant shade of red. "I'm allowed to coach my student."

Mouse leaned in, a finger pointed at him. "You don't have to scream when you do. You can use hand signals or whisper. You haven't shut up since the first end. They can hear you on the compound side."

The judge stepped in closer. "Easy, everyone. Archers, go pull. I'll take care of this."

Davey dabbed at her eyes and stared at the floor.

I put an arm around her. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded her head, but a tear dripped off her nose. "It's my fault. I know that he doesn't like it when anyone does anything to distract his precious Becky."

"Do you work with him? Did I totally get you in trouble with your coach?" Had my huge mouth gotten her in trouble?

"He's not my coach any more. I used to attend his program, but we moved last June, and the commute was eventually too long." She continued to stare at the ground as we approached the target.

"Hey?" I stopped and waited for her to look up at me. "Your job isn't to make some coach happy. Your job here is to follow the rules and do your best."

Mouse slid up next to me and bumped me over in her enthusiasm. "You okay? Ignore stupid old Coach Jerkface. You did nothing wrong, and he was totally out of line to even say something to you, okay?"

Davey looked up at Mouse then me. She sniffled, and a tiny smile pulled up the corners of her lips.

Coach Ron was fighting with the judge at the shooting line, while Matt stared at us as he held the electronic scoring device and tapped his foot.

"We better go score before Matt has a fit."

Mouse patted her on the back. "You need any help, just call for me. My name's Mouse."

"I've been calling her Davey Jones," I said in a poor imitation of a pirate.

"Argh, I like it. You need me, Davey Jones, bellow and I'll swoop in with me cutlass." Mouse turned and jogged back to her target.

I had just started to pull things together, but once again the anxiety and adrenaline fought in my chest.

We finished scoring our arrows, and Davey was already looking perkier. She double-checked the scores. "Hey, Di, you and Matt have the exact same score."

Before I could reply, Matt shook his head. "My score's awful. Awful. I never, ever shoot this badly. I think something is broken on my bow or something. My score's terrible." He turned and left the target.

If I hadn't felt badly enough about my score before, that really rubbed the salt in my wounds. "Only sixteen more ends to go."

***

After we finished scoring, I stretched my arms overhead as we returned from the targets. The excitement of earlier had died down. Coach Ron had continued to fight with the judges about what was an appropriate level of communication. Even when he lowered his voice and spoke half as much, he was a distraction of epic proportions. During the one end he hadn't been present to constantly vomit words, I was so relieved that I could have cried from joy.

Davey, as sweet as she was, had filled every second of silence off the line as well. She clearly liked me, and I hated to do anything to dampen her youthful enthusiasm, and heaven knows that I'm not so popular that I'm able to turn down any form of friendship, but my ears were ringing from the constant chatter around me, and I ached to just sit in silence.

A judge was on the far side of the range with a magnifying glass to determine the value of an arrow, and I snuck back to sit by Liam. I collapsed into my seat and closed my eyes. "Where are Mary, Orion and Moo?"

"They went out for a walk."

Liam didn't say anything more, and I appreciated that more than anything else in the world. The five seconds of quiet were amazing until a shrill woman's voice cut through the noises around me.

"I'll kill you, Ron!"

I stood up and scrubbed my face. "What's going wrong now?"

A woman had pushed past us to approach Ron. She had a reverse mullet, short in the back and long in the front. She was jabbing a finger into Ron's chest. "How dare you videotape my daughter! Take that video down before I break every finger you have, you pervert!"

Judges raced over, and the crowd surged up around them.

A gentleman next to me muttered, "Oh geez, I didn't expect that."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Coach Ron filmed my son and her daughter"--he pointed that the screaming lady--"and put it up on the Internet and was kinda mocking how her daughter was shooting. A friend happened to see it and knows that I'm really picky about keeping my son off social media. I showed it to her, and, well... you see what happened."

The shouting of Reverse Mullet Mom and Coach Ron was continuing.

"He's making fun of my daughter on the Internet. I'm filing a protest. I want him kicked out."

Coach Ron's face was tomato red again. He'd better have a strong heart. "No, I'm filing a protest. You can't call me a pervert and attack me." Then he turned, and his eyes landed on the dad standing next to me. "You! You and your son are out of the program. I don't want troublemakers around."

The dad's mouth dropped open in shock. "You're kicking
us
out because of your screw-up? You've got to be kidding me, you--" Brian, in his police uniform, came up and grabbed the dad's arm, whispering something in the man's ear. The man narrowed his eyes at Coach Ron and jerked his arm out of Brian's grasp. He nodded his head at Brian then stormed off to the far end of the compound side of the range.

The range vibrated with noise as everyone discussed what had just happened. I flopped back in my seat. "This is ridiculous."

Liam rubbed my back. "One end left, then you can take a short break between rounds and catch your breath."

"If I survive that long. Is this how all tournaments are now-adays? I might not be cut out for this." This day had been a roller coaster of emotions, and I wanted off. I had buried my face in my hands when Jess spoke up.

"No, this is
not
typical. You're doing a great job of holding yourself together."

I stood up to talk to Jess. "Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me." I leaned in closer. "I'm shooting horribly."

She grabbed both my shoulders so she could look into my eyes. "This whole event is beyond insane. I'm really proud of you. Just one more end."

I nodded and started to head for the line when a slight blond lady grabbed my arm. "Pardon me, I just wanted to say thank you so much."

"Uh, sure, for what?" She looked vaguely familiar.

"For talking with CarolAnn."

I scrunched up my face, trying to think of a CarolAnn.

"Oh, she said you are calling her Davey Jones. She's having the best time shooting with you, and that's so special for her. She's been really depressed since we moved. We were going to homeschool her so she could continue at Coach Ron's program, but the counselor thought it would be more helpful for her to go to school and make friends. You know how junior high is. Anyways, she hasn't been this happy in a long time, and it's because of you. Thank you so, so much."

I threw an arm around her neck and hugged her. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that." The two whistles to go to the line were blown. "I've gotta get to the line, but thank you."

I bounced to the line, feeling lighter than air and recharged. Funny how a few encouraging words could change your mood. I shot my arrows, feeling strong and confident, and was shocked to see all three land in the gold. Sure, they might be clipping the edges of the ring, but that was the best I had done all day.

I stepped off the line and set my bow down on the stand while stripping off my arm guard and chest protector. Once we were done scoring, I would have just enough time to change into my second, not grotty jersey. But before we could score and collect our arrows, the director of shooting came over the PA.

"Archers, hold the line. Due to some protests that have been filed, we'll be extending the break. It's ten minutes after the hour. We'll resume shooting at the top of the hour. There'll be no practice ends. We will go directly into scoring. To repeat, shooting will commence at the top of the hour. You may pull your arrows."

Jess went over to talk to the DOS, and before I could reach the target, the PA crackled to life again.

"Those of you that are spending the night at the training center can meet with Jess next to the DOS stand to pick up your keys. Remember, shooting will begin in forty-nine minutes at the top of the hour." Jess stood, waving her hand high in the air.

We scored our arrows, and the range emptied out. Jess handed out packets with keys. I took off my quiver and set it on our chairs.

Liam leaned against the wall next to our chairs. "So... I can go get everything out of the car and stuff if you want to... uh..."

I exhaled with gratitude. I hated to be away from him, but a few minutes of solitude were exactly what I needed. "Sit in a dark room alone and decompress? That'd be awesome. Thanks for understanding."

CHAPTER FOUR

By the time it was ten 'til, I was feeling better. I'd grabbed my clean jersey and gone to the bathrooms on the far side of the center. I'd splashed some water on my face and given the mirror a firm lecture on doing the Westmound name proud. I asked myself, how would Elizabeth Andersson handle the situation? She was not only the owner of one of the largest companies in our industry, but I'd found her to be a powerful and classy business woman that I, and Mary and Jess, looked up to. She would probably ignore all the drama and move forward with her best effort.

I threw my shoulders back and resolved to block out everything this round. Racing back to the range, I ran into Jess.

"Hey, I've been looking for you. Where've you been?"

"Sorry, I changed into a fresh jersey, splashed some water on my face, and tried to get into a better frame of mind. I'm ready to focus on strong, aggressive shots." I reached over and gave her a hug. She might not be competing, but she was working hard too. "Thanks for your support earlier."

She stiffened for a second and hugged me back. Her tense shoulders relaxed. "Of course! I'm here for all of you guys." She grabbed my arm and walked me into the range. "Do you need anything from me?"

I shook my head at her. "I think I'm good. This must be the most stressful tournament you've ever coached at."

She chuckled lightly. "In some ways yes because of the stuff Coach Ron has pulled today, but the archers are doing pretty well. It's not uncommon to have tons of archers having meltdowns because of shooting poorly or whatever. So far it's been difficult, but people are handling it really well. I'm going to check on Tiger and Mouse. If you need me, holler."

I grabbed my quiver and put on my equipment and did some slow, easy stretches. Archers, parents, and coaches wandered around, and the range was quickly filling up. Liam and Moo weren't back, but they would be soon. The reverse-mullet mother who had filed the protest against Coach Ron, and vice versa, was hanging around the DOS stand talking to a few judges. A judge picked up the microphone, and her voice crackled overhead.

"Coach Ron, Coach Ron, please come to the DOS stand immediately. Archers, five minutes until we resume shooting." The announcement cut off with a pop.

"How you doing?"

I swung around to see Loggin behind me. "Good, how about you?"

"Pretty good, pretty good, not nearly as exciting as your end of the range. Can't you get things under control down here?"