Skip unfolded himself from the car, pointing the gun at me. It pretty much answered the question I’d started to ask. He looked about as natural with a gun as I would have carrying a jackhammer.
He looked from me to Rhonda and back at me. “What’s going on?”
“Put that away,” Rhonda said.
Skip shook his head.
“What are you going to do with it?” Rhonda spoke as…
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