Chapter 4 - The Wrong Question
Rachel stared at the target like it had betrayed her.
“It was one shot,” she said.
Elena nodded.
“Yes.”
The calm answer made it worse.
Rachel stepped closer, voice lower now.
“Who taught you that?”
Elena did not answer.
The crowd sensed the shift.
At first, they had been watching a Navy chief humiliate a worker.
Now they were watching a woman in gray refuse to explain why she had just done something half the shooters on the range could not do under pressure.
Rachel hated the silence.
“You work base services,” she said.
“I do.”
“You sweep brass.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe you just picked up a pistol cold and put one through the center?”
Elena glanced at the weapon.
“I told you. This is not my weapon.”
A few people exchanged looks.
Mercer stepped fully forward.
“Chief Hayes,” he said.
Rachel turned sharply.
“Master Chief?”
His eyes stayed on Elena.
“Ask the better question.”
Rachel frowned.
“What better question?”
Mercer looked at the pistol, then at Elena.
“Why did she say it that way?”
For the first time, Rachel truly looked.
Not at Elena’s gray uniform.
Not at the broom.
At the details.
Military-issue boots.
No flinch at gunfire.
Hands too familiar with safety checks.
Grip too clean to be lucky.
May you like
A maintenance worker might know how to clean a range.
This woman knew how to survive one.
