He went back to the kitchen and grabbed his backpack. He should probably put the weapons back before he got in trouble for that, too. He slammed the door to the basement, too, wanting to punch a hole in the drywall. He jammed the key into the gun locker door and punched the buttons, practically breaking a finger in his fury.
Only when he reached into his bag was he careful. He pulled the zipper free on the table and looked inside.
Then he kept on looking.
One gun and a fully loaded magazine were missing.
CHAPTER 4
Hunter wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like.
The bag had been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all evening. Unless someone had broken in and stolen the gun in the last hour—while there was a police dog lying on the mat in front of the sink—then he’d either left the gun in the clearing or Clare had taken it.
He had no idea why Clare, someone who was obviously afraid of firearms, would take the weapon.
But he knew he hadn’t left a fully loaded handgun lying in the grass, either.
If his father found out, he was so dead.
He grabbed the cell phone out of his pocket—just as he realized he’d never gotten her number.
Like she’d answer. What would he say? “Did you maybe accidentally take a gun from my bag?”
Hunter ran a hand through his short hair and tried not to panic.
How. Could he. Have let. This happen.
His father’s stupid comment kept running through his head.
You’re about to teach yourself a lesson a lot more effectively than I ever could.
Or his uncle’s: Use them before they use you.
It didn’t make any sense. Clare didn’t seem like the type.
God, what did he know about types?
He needed to figure out a solution. Otherwise he might as well just load the remaining handgun and shoot himself.
No. He could handle this. First, he needed to get out of the gun locker before his dad realized he was down here and decided to come see what was going on.
Hunter locked the room. He almost put the remaining gun away, but if Clare had totally played him and was some kind of marksman, he didn’t want to go facing her unarmed.
Marksman. Who was he kidding? He’d felt her hand tremble on his wrist when he’d fired that first shot.
Why would she take a gun?
Hunter went back to his bedroom and logged on to Facebook. Clare wasn’t his friend, but maybe he could find her cell phone number.
No cell number. No address. Her status message was set to public, and it was last updated two days ago. The cafeteria macaroni and cheese doesn’t actually include cheese. I read the ingredients!!!
Seriously. Like there was any chance it would say I stole a handgun from Hunter Garrity this afternoon! He can totally find me at 123 Main Street!
Uncle Jay was a cop. He could find out where she lived.
Yeah, and his dad said he’d be pissed if he caught Hunter spying again.
Why the hell hadn’t he offered to walk her home this afternoon?