“It’s not even light out.”

“She gets up early.” His gaze darkened as he scanned her from head to toe. “It’s a real shame, but I guess you’ll need clothes.”

“I keep a bag in the trunk of my car.” Crime scenes were rough on her wardrobe.

Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the dirt and gravel parking area. Hannah was waiting.

Stella eyed the building. Nerves swam through the coffee in her belly.

“Trust me.” Mac got out of the car to greet his sister.

Dressed in jeans, boots, and a Syracuse University T-shirt, Hannah didn’t look like a hotshot lawyer. She opened her trunk and unlocked a portable gun safe. She palmed a handgun, and handed Mac one.

Stella looked over Mac’s shoulder. The box contained additional handguns and rifles. “What is this?”

“The Barrett family arsenal.” Mac picked up a magazine and a box of bullets. “The Colonel took his weapons very seriously.”

“He must have.” Stella faced the concrete bunker-type structure. No signs gave away the building’s purpose.

Mac opened the door. “This is a very private club. Mostly former military types. For the retired set, it’s half firing range, half social club.”

Fluorescent lights brightened the reception area.

“Mac! Hannah!” A giant, ridiculously fit man of about sixty vaulted over the counter. The overhead lighting gleamed off his bald head. He slapped Mac on the shoulder. “Hannah practices regularly. Where the hell have you been?”

“Around,” Mac said. “You know I prefer a blade.”

Craig lifted Hannah off her feet with a hug. A wide grin split her face as she returned the embrace.

Mac gestured to Stella. “Craig, this is Stella.” He didn’t provide her last name or occupation, which she appreciated. She wanted to remain low profile.

Her slim hand disappeared in Craig’s as they shook, and she didn’t miss the older man’s quick, approving wink.

Mac put a hand on her back. “Craig served with the Colonel. We’ve been shooting here since we could walk.”

“Maybe before,” Craig said. “I heard the Colonel passed. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Mac studied the cinderblock wall for a few seconds before gesturing with his handgun. “I need to figure out if I can still shoot this thing.”

“I’m sure you can.” Craig crossed his arms. “Not as well as Hannah, but then, she was always my star pupil. If you’d only apply yourself a little more.”

“Story of my life.” Mac laughed.

“Go to it.” Craig waved them toward the door and stepped back. “You have the place to yourselves for now.”

Mac guided Stella into the range. The big room was bare bones: concrete floor, cinderblock walls, wooden partitions.

Craig followed them in, doubled up on ear protection, and leaned against the far wall.

Entering the indoor range, Stella tensed.