“Shouldn’t carry a gun unless you’re prepared to use it, Rina,” Abel said. “It’s easy to kill a target, even fire off a couple of rounds at someone fleeing in the woods at night…”

Fleeing. Peter must have told him how she’d tried to shoot the rapist. Why would he have done that? To warn Abel off? It hadn’t worked. She hated Peter for bringing this pervert into their lives.

“Yeah,” Abel went on, “it’s easy to shoot when you’re not looking someone in the eye. Not too many people shoot face-to-face. Some can. Your husband-to-be can. But obviously you can’t.”

Rina couldn’t answer. She was shaking too hard.

“Do yourself a favor,” Abel said. “Toss the gun.”

Whispering, Rina said, “You did this…to teach me a lesson?”

Staring straight ahead, Abel didn’t answer her. Neither one spoke for a minute or so. Rina felt her strength returning. Anger began to smother the fear that had paralyzed her. When she spoke, her voice burned with hatred. “You sadistic bastard!”

Abel turned to her and smiled. But his eyes were disturbed. “You still have the gun, Rina. Maybe you’d like to use it now, eh?”

“You wanted me to kill you!” Rina cried out.

“No,” Abel said. “No, I didn’t want you to kill me. I really didn’t. But I wouldn’t have cared if you did.” He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. “When I was recovering in the VA on the amputee ward, we used to sneak guns in and play Russian roulette. Actually, they say there were some who played roulette in Nam. Like in the movie Deer Hunter—”

“I don’t go to movies,” Rina said. Then wondered why in the world she was answering this creep. She should bolt up and run away. But fright or its aftermath kept her rooted to the ground.

Abel went on, “Well, I never did see any grunts spin the gun while in Nam. Pete didn’t, either. But I did do it on the ward. Few guys blew their brains out. But that was no big deal. Staff chalked it up to despondency—suicidal depression.”

“It was suicide,” Rina said. “It—” She stopped talking.