Chapter 2
Flint
Our gun repair shop is small, maybe eight hundred square feet.
Me and my friend Tommy went into business together after we got out of the army, and we’re making a good living.
I came to Cedar Falls because that’s where my uncle is.
Rock’s my father’s brother, and for a while I was at a loss, until he invited me to become a member of his motorcycle club.
Tommy ended up joining me six months later.
I’ve been here coming up to eighteen months now.
I repair the guns and he handles the customers and paperwork.
It’s a division of labor that plays to our strengths.
Of course, we keep it neat and organized.
All our tools are on a pegboard behind the workbench.
The display cases are glass-fronted and well-lit. Behind the workbench is my happy place.
Turning the Walther over in my hand, I admire the workmanship.
German handguns are well made and reliable.
This one is no exception. Unfortunately, they’re also prone to flippy recoil because of the higher bore axis.
I’ve broken it down and have all the pieces laid across the rubber mat in a neat line in the order I’ll put it back together.
The recoil spring is worn down past its service life, which explains why the owner complained about cycling issues, and there’s carbon buildup caked along the feed ramp.
Tommy’s doing a bang-up job of handling a customer at the front counter.
“So what happened was, I took it out to my buddy’s place in Johnston County,” the customer says, by way of an explanation.
Johnny is a regular and is leaning both elbows on the counter like he’s gonna give the long version of his story.
He is a big guy in a camouflage jacket. He’s got wild eyes and an even wilder beard.
I know Tommy likes shooting the shit with him.
“We set up some targets at about a hundred yards, and I’m telling you, my favorite rifle was pulling left every single time I took a damn shot. I know it ain’t me because I’ve been shootin’ since I was twelve years old and I know how to hold a fuckin’ rifle.”
Tommy nods, his face lit up with interest. “That’s a shame. Bet it was embarrassing, being as it was in front of your friend and all.”
“Damn straight it was. That’s why I hightailed it straight to your shop the minute I hit town. I gotta get this shit fixed so I can kick his ass next weekend.”
Tommy fist bumps with Johnny. “Don’t worry, brother. We’ll fix you right up. By the time we’re finished, this fucker will be firing like a brand-new rifle.”
“That’s what I told the missus when she said I should buy a new rifle. I said, Lynette, why the hell would I spend our good money when I can get the beast repaired for a lot less fuckin’ money. You Ragers know to how work on weapons.”
Tommy proudly smooths down his prospect’s cut. “You are so fuckin’ right about that, Johnny. Remind your old lady that vintage Winchesters don’t just fall out of the sky. They’re damn hard to come by.”
Johnny runs one down the barrel. “This one was willed to me by gramps ‘cause he was sure the hell not letting go of it in his lifetime.”
“Fuck yeah, your gramps was a smart man.”
I leave them to it and head around the back of the shop and do a quick stock take of our supplies. When I return to the front, Tommy’s just about done with the customer.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Tommy says, tearing the intake slip along the perforation and handing the customer his copy.
“I’ll get Flint to inspect it, check the scope mount, and look at the crown.
We’ll figure out what’s wrong with it, call you with an estimate before we do any work, just like we always do with your weapon repairs. ”
Johnny nods, “Thanks, Tommy. Be careful with my Winchester. She’s my pride and joy.”
The bell above the door jingles as Johnny leaves. Tommy puts Johnny’s Winchester in our gun safe, wanders over to the workbench and drops down onto the stool across from me.
“That’s a mighty fine weapon,” Tommy says. “Did you see it? That damn thing still has the original finish on the stock.”
“It’s probably worth seven or eight grand. Vintage Winchesters in good condition like that command high prices on the open market.”
Tommy grunts his agreement and begins rolling the new spring for the Walther back and forth on the mat.
I quickly start reassembling it. The barrel seats back into place. Next, I insert the guide rod and spring. Then I slide the frame back on. I always do a function check by pulling it back, releasing it, and listening for the click. Everything cycles the way it should now.
I set the Walther on the mat and wipe my hands on the shop rag.
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s near closing time.
Tommy’s already at the register, counting down the drawer, separating it into stacks.
I lock the display cases, double-checking each lock, and pull the security gate across the front window.
Tommy hits the lights in the back room. We’re at the door when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
I lock up while he pulls out his phone. I see his expression change when he glances at the screen. “It’s Jules. I hope everything is okay,” he mutters before answering the call.
Jules is his younger sister, the one he finished raising when his mother died ten years ago. Tommy is like the worst helicopter parent in the world to her. I like Jules, though I haven’t seen her in years. Not since I left LA.
“Jules?” he says, “What’s up? You don’t usually call to chat until the weekend?”
His free hand comes up and presses flat against the brick building. I can tell by the way his weight shifts from one leg to the other and the angry set of his jaw that whatever she’s saying, it means trouble.
“Okay,” he says. “I want you to stay right there on the front porch. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
He ends the call and stands there for a second with a worried expression, staring at the phone.
“Jules is at my place,” he says finally.
“What the fuck? She just drove here from LA all by herself?”
“Yeah, it looks that way. Something’s off. She sounded worried or scared,” he explains.
“What the fuck did she say?”
Shaking his head, he turns to look at me. “She said she just missed me and wanted to come and stay.”
“Maybe she’s at a loss now she’s graduated?” I offer.
When he still doesn’t move, I give his shoulder a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Tommy gets moving in the direction of his truck. When he pulls out, I follow him on my bike.
***
We make good time, and Tommy parks in his driveway behind an Accord that I assume belongs to his sister. I pull in behind him, kill the engine, and jump off the bike. My eyes are already searching for Jules, and my eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see her.
Last time I saw her, she was my best friend’s kid sister. Now she’s all woman.
She’s sitting on the porch swing, looking all sweet and innocent.
There’s a scruffy tabby on the swing beside her, a large suitcase near her legs, and the biggest iced latte I’ve ever seen in her hand.
She’s wearing ripped jeans and a belly shirt.
Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun. At first glance, she looks fine.
But as we get closer, I can see cracks in her facade.
Her shoulders are pulled up tight, and she is white-knuckling that to-go cup like there’s no tomorrow.
Tommy reaches her first. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah.” She stands up and gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sorry. I know I probably should have called before making the trip. I just needed to see you.”
“You don’t have to ask to come here, you know you’re always welcome.”
I speak up, “Good to see ya, Jules.”
She looks me up and down. “Well, hello to you too, Flint.”
“Why didn’t you let yourself in?” Tommy asks.
She stammers awkwardly, “I misplaced the key… my whole keychain actually. I had to get new apartment and car keys made.”
Without taking my eyes off her, I remove the spare key Tommy gave me forever ago from my keyring and toss it to her. Tommy catches it and presses it into her hand.
“There, problem solved. I’ll get Flint another key made when I get a chance.” He reaches down, grabs her suitcase with one hand, and guides her to the door with his other. She unlocks it, and before they can step inside, the cat darts between them and runs into the house.
“Is that supposed to go in there?” I ask.
“Fluffy’s with me,” Jules answers.
I wonder how long she’s planning on staying for if she’s bringing her cat. The suitcase she’s got ain’t small either.
I go straight to the kitchen and pull two beers from the fridge, pop both caps, and hand one to Tommy without asking.
I offer one to Jules, but she shakes her head, so I take a mouthful instead.
She doesn’t need me hovering, but I won’t leave until I know what’s going on.
That’s what I’m telling myself anyway. It ain’t got nothing to do with me wanting to keep on looking at her.
She settles onto the sofa, pulls her legs up, and makes herself comfortable. Tommy drops onto the far end of the sofa, and I take a nearby armchair.
“So, what’s going on?” Tommy asks casually. “What’s been going on in your world?”
“I graduated,” she says. “Finished my first well-paying commission and decided I wanted to come and see you.”
“You drove here from LA?”
“I needed time to think.”
Tommy nods slowly. “On the phone you sounded rattled.”
“Something weird happened a couple of weeks ago,” she says. “I was up late working on my commission and decided to do a drive through. I was on the beltline and I saw something strange… Scary.”
I lean forward in my chair and notice Tommy tense up as well.
“Tell us what happened, Jules. Maybe we can help,” he says gently.