"Okay, we're going to go through the gun safety rules and then I'm going to let you shoot. Got it?"
"Yes."
"The safety is off, the finger is off the trigger and you're ready to fire. Always assume that the gun is loaded, and never point it at anything you don't want to shoot."
Paige nodded.
"Good. Okay, your finger is on the trigger, and you know how to fire. Lean into the shot, so that the recoil doesn't send it off target."
"Like this?" Paige asked.
"Not quite." Christopher was close to her then, adjusting her position. He was professional and efficient, but Paige was all too aware of him standing close behind her. Close enough that the adjustments might have felt like… more, if Paige didn’t know already that Christopher had a wife. "Start with the weapon close to your chest, then move out into a solid firing position. If you actually have to use a gun, my guess is that it will take place at close range. I want you to aim for the bottles, and then, when you're ready, pull the trigger."
It was impossible not to think about how close to her Christopher was then. Paige had to push those thoughts away, reminding herself that he was a married man. She didn’t even think that he was aware of that closeness in the same way. She forced herself to focus on aiming instead. She fired the gun, a sharp recoil immediately pushing her back slightly, the sound of the shot ringing in her ears.
She watched as a bullet hit the target, shattering one of the bottles, sending shards of glass flying into the air.
"Good!" Christopher said. "You're a natural at this."
Paige was surprised by how easy it felt, and how good, although she suspected that had something to do with the presence of Christopher there so close to her. She didn’t feel any joy at the destruction, but there was a kind of satisfaction at being able to do this properly.
“Again,” Christopher said.
Paige aimed at the other bottle, focusing in on it and bracing herself as she fired again. Once more, the bottle smashed into fragments as the bullet hit it. Again, there was that surge of happiness that came with succeeding, even if it was at something destructive.
At the very least, it meant that if Adam showed up, Paige would be ready for him.
*
Day was wearing into night, little by little. Paige kept going through her notes on her sessions with Adam, revising them the way she might have for an exam, trying to cram in as much information about him as possible.
It would have been impossible to relax, if Christopher hadn't been there in the house with her. Even with him there, Paige worried about everything that might happen, and everything that had happened so far. She kept going over it in her head, what she'd said to Adam, what she'd done, what she might have done differently.
Christopher had told her to focus on something else, and she had, but it was impossible not to think about Adam, about how she had been fooled by him. He'd known everything about her.
Christopher was making food, using the contents of the kitchen, since it was too far out of the city to just call for takeout.
“You cook a lot?” Paige asked.
“When I’m home, I like to cook for Justine and myself,” Christopher said. “It’s nice to do normal things when so much of my job isn’t normal.”
“What does your wife think of your job?”
It was strange, talking with this man she felt a thread of attraction towards about his wife, but maybe it was what Paige needed. She had to remind herself that Christopher wasn’t available, that he hadn’t shown any signs of reciprocating the things that Paige found herself starting to feel towards him.
“She doesn’t like that it puts me in danger,” Christopher said. “Or that it often keeps me away from home. Chasing the worst kinds of criminals isn’t a nine to five job.”
Paige wanted to know more about his life, more about him. She couldn’t settle, though. She knew that it was just nerves. Adam was approaching. It was all she could think about.
"Beef ramen with a miso broth," Christopher said, setting a plate of handmade noodles down in front of her.
Paige had to admit that it was good, eating there at the kitchen table with Christopher. There was something almost intimate about it, and Paige had to remind herself that this wasn't some kind of romantic dinner. This was a stakeout, waiting for a serial killer. This was work. His work, at least.
They were halfway through the meal when Paige heard a sound, a creak deeper in the house. It took her a moment or two to realize that it was the sound of a window creaking open.
Someone was trying to get into the house, and Paige could only think of one person that might be.
"Adam is here," Christopher said, getting to his feet and drawing his berretta.