Cooper: A Short Story by Monalisa Foster

Author:Monalisa Foster [Foster, Monalisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polite Society Enterprises LLC

Chapter 6

It took a little imagination, some creative scriptwriting, and ignoring a lot of Rayn's text and voice messages, as well as avoiding her company, but by the close of business on Monday, Tim had two lists.

Of the fifteen guns Oz had reported stolen, records showed that seven had already been sent to the smelter. Consistency was one of the first casualties whenever the patchwork of state and federal gun laws met. State law said recovered firearms should be returned to their owner unless being held as evidence, but there was no penalty, administrative or otherwise for failing to do so.

"Guns to Plowshares" insisted all guns be destroyed unless they'd been involved in crimes and were being held as evidence, and offered monetary incentives for each gun melted. It had been hit or miss, depending on which agency, lab, or forensic specialist had found the time to deal with the backlog of "surrendered" guns.

He called in favors. He twisted arms. He begged, pleaded, and threatened.

He had help. Having the governor in his corner didn't hurt. It came with a cost, however. Political games and posturing meant that the legality of what they were doing was in constant flux.

On Tuesday he got a booty call from Rayn. He ignored it and got a haircut instead. The next day he threw all the clothes she'd bought for him into a box and left them in a thrift store's donation bin. Then he worked off some stress at the gym, the way he used to before hooking up with Rayn, with barbells and weight plates, speed- and heavy-bags. His knuckles were good and bruised, his palms smarting from forming callouses. Rayn didn't like callouses. Which was just as well since he wasn't touching her again.

As the politicians battled, word of what had happened to Ziegler spread. One of the specialists across the state wanted to know if he was interested in other matches. Another noticed a pattern of thefts from veterans. Someone leaked the pattern to gun rights bloggers and the internet exploded. By Thursday the story had spread like wildfire.

But every gun he recovered and saved meant a reason to return to the Ziegler residence. His goal was to have a reason to be there by Friday. Late on Friday afternoon, he had one. One of his new allies had found one of Ziegler's revolvers. It had already been test-fired and cleared.

Tim opened the box, half-expecting the revolver to greet him.

On the way to the Ziegler house, the disappointing silence awoke memories of the last time he'd seen his dad. The look on his face. The longing. How having to say goodbye to his son seemed to take a little of his life away. How quickly he'd aged. How ragged his clothes had become. How much time he spent fixing an old car that never seemed to run as it should. How Tim had never wanted for anything despite his dad's newfound poverty.

The aromas of dinner greeted him even as he rang the doorbell.

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