{fourteen}

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Gunshots whizzed to their targets while Dylan walked over to where Alessandra was. He should've been watching her hit her targets, but his attention was somewhere else. After a few minutes, she took off her goggles and earwear then turned to him.

"You weren't there too long, were you?" she asked.

Dylan recovered quickly. "Nope." He took the Glock 19 she handed him. "How'd it go?"

"My shooting needs work, but I'm doing much better."

Dylan looked at the paper once it slid over to them. Out of the fifteen shots two were head shots and there were also a couple to the chest and heart.

"This isn't bad."

Alessandra frowned. "Six out of fifteen? I should be better considering this is my third time at a range. What did you shoot?"

He'd had ten head shots with the rest to the heart out of a magazine of seventeen.

"I hit my target." Dylan rolled up her paper. "You shouldn't compare yourself to me. I'm required to carry a weapon."

He was ready to tell her not to be so hard on herself. But that effort would be as futile as the Mayor of Chicago's current campaign to show the city he wasn't a dirty politician.

"We can go again if you want," Dylan said instead.

"I wouldn't mind."

"It's a date." He didn't miss the smile she gave him.

A huge yellow moon was mostly hidden behind some clouds once they were outside. Their breath fogged in the air, and a fire burned somewhere in the distance. At this rate, it would be Christmas by the time they solved this damn case.

Dylan checked himself as he opened the passenger door for Alessandra. It was nearing a month. And although this killer appeared to have no kind of a cooling off period, they were closer than ever to getting their man.

Before the meeting, they'd checked cell phone records and discovered that Carissa's mobile phone had been under Hansen's name. He hadn't pinged off of any locations at the time of her murder, but it was just enough to add to the growing pile of evidence against him. Even if a killer could come up with fifty ways to take somebody out all it took was one mistake to bring him down.

"Ready for Hansen tomorrow?" Alessandra broke into his thoughts.

"Hell yes." He turned up the dial on the heat. "You wanna stop and get something?"

"What do you feel like?" she asked. He heard her rummage through her purse.

"Whatever you want," he said.

"Eggrolls sound good."

"Chinese it is." He gunned the engine.

More than two hours later it was almost nine p.m. and they were finishing up with cleaning the dishes.

"It's not very often you have an early night, do you?" Alessandra asked as she dried off a plate.

"I was gonna say the same thing to you," he said, careful to avoid a repeat of last time.

"Sad but true." She stayed quiet for a moment before she turned to him. "Thanks again for tonight, for everything. My day was going terribly and you saved it."

He reached over her to put up the plates. "It was my pleasure. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

And he meant it. The meal, the drive. Having her around had been better than he expected. It beat the hell out of being in this huge house alone. And it kept his mind off of worrying about the state of this case. Even so, he couldn't wait to nail this son of a bitch tomorrow.

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