Sweet Paradise by Gene Desrochers (most read books in the world of all time .txt) 📕

“Shut up!” I blurted.

He slumped back.

“All right,” Dana whispered. “All right, Boise.” Her hands were out, spread like spiders. “Walter’s going to help us with this. Aren’t you, Walter?”

He limply nodded.

“See? Boise? He’s gonna help.”

My back was turned to both of them. A bush on the right in the parking lot brought me out of my trauma. A perfect hiding spot for someone wielding a bow and arrow. I opened the door and left it open, beelining to the spot.

“Boise!” Dana yelled.

Halfway down the stairs, I shouted, “Don’t touch that door!

Chapter 17

Standing behind the bush, I scoped the angle. Why had it taken so long to spot this? It must have been where the shooter had crouched, which explained why I saw no one when I looked out the window. The bush was dense and had some vines crawling over it. I called Harold, and he drove to my office at a breakneck speed judging by the swiftness of his arrival.

We huddled behind the bush. Walter had scampered upstairs to the newsroom as soon as I was out of sight.

Dana wandered down and listened to my theory.

“We need you to stand in the doorway. I’ll position her the way Kendal was that day. You figure out exactly where you would shoot from, but like I said, when you find a spot, use this towel to cover the ground. Maybe we can preserve some evidence if there’s anything.”

Harold slung the towel over his shoulder and waited for us to take up our positions inside the open door of my office.

Walking up the stairs, Dana tried to speak. “Boise, I...”

“Not now, Dana. I’m onto something. You deal with Walter. Clearer heads. It’s not something ... just shoulder it.”

We reached the open door. “You’re gonna be Kendal.” I positioned her at the door, facing inside as if talking to me, her hand on the knob, ready to leave. I assumed my position and propped a chair where Junior had been standing.

“Wow, you were really this close to him when the arrow?” She made a stabbing motion into her chest with her finger.

“The head came through his chest like an alien. Don’t move, I’m going down to talk to Harold.”

Harold and I surveyed Dana’s position. We found two nice openings in the leaves with enough room to pull the bow back. Harold commented that the second opening had better sight lines for center mass.

“How tough is this shot?” I asked.

“You’d need to be competent, but not necessarily brilliant.”

Lifting the towel off the ground after Harold finished sighting on Dana, I snapped photos. There were no clear footprints in the browning leaves and dirt. No cigarette butts. No candy wrappers. So much for a stupid shooter. One leaf had some brown liquid dried on it. I inched my nose close. Cola. Coca-Cola.

I waved Dana down, then turned to Harold.

“How’s about a trip to the archery range?”

“Today’s the busiest day of the week. I like to go on Tuesday mid-day better.”

“Perfect. Let’s go watch folks shoot. Maybe you’ll even introduce me to a killer.”

DANA WAVED OFF, SAYING she wanted to keep on Walter. He’d agree to get more from the widow about Kendal’s doings the last few months, or she’d expose him. When Dana had you in her sights, it was scary.

The archery range was full of adults on one side and teens on the other. We had texted Junior, and he’d agreed to meet us there.

Junior charged up behind us and did a mock tackle, shoving us forward. A couple other archers gave us librarian scowls for talking in the stacks.

“Who’s the best shooter here?” I asked.

Harold and Junior gave each other a knowing look, then Junior said, “Him,” and pointed at Harold. An attractive nineteen-year-old woman in a halter top dress sporting an African color pattern of gold, blue, and grey geometric patterns marched right up and kissed Harold on the mouth. He pulled away after an awkward moment.

“Hiya, Teysha.”

“Hello, lover,” she purred. “Brought your favorite.” She handed him a can of Coca-Cola dripping with condensation. Eyelash extensions jutted from her eyelids. Everything about her screamed, look at me! And it worked. We were riveted. Harold popped the lid and guzzled some Coke.

She did a slow turn and pecked Junior on the cheek. “Where you been, J.?”

Junior blushed a little. “You know, school. I’ve been off in Georgia.”

“You shooting?”

“A little.”

She tilted her head and held out her hand, knuckles up. “I’m Teysha Collins. You are?”

“Boise Montague,” I said, following her lead. “A friend of these guys.” Her fingers were almost as hot as her stare. This was a woman who could make a man do things. All kinds of things.

“Strange we’ve never met,” she said, looking pointedly at Harold.

“Boise’s been away a while. He just came back. Isn’t that right, Boise?”

“That’s right, Harold. So right.”

“You a shooter?” she batted her eyelashes at me as if blinded by the sunlight dimpling through the surrounding trees.

“No, no.” I waved my hands way more than I needed to. “Harold’s shown me some basics, but I’m a full-blown beginner.”

She smiled and nodded. “Harry’s a good one to learn from, if you can get him to teach. He’s never taught me shit about shooting arrows. We always wind up working on other things, right Harry?”

She had close-cropped hair and dancing brown eyes. More than that, there was a palpable sensuality in everything about this woman. But, for many men, and I believed Harold was one of them, the sleazy factor was crucial.

“Teysha Collins, get back here!” The holler came from a graying man wearing a shirt depicting Legolas, the elven warrior from Lord of the Rings. He had a leather weight belt wrapped around his waist and waved his bow around for emphasis.

“My dad wants me back. Ta-ta.”

She sidled away, the dress swaying like a hula skirt.

“Woah,” I muttered. “Who is that, Harry?”

“No, do not call me Harry. Only Teysha calls me that. Sounds strange coming out