Free Snowfall by Sharon Sala Page A

and slipped out. It was pretty fast, and I’d been asleep when he walked in. I do know that he was Caucasian, at least six feet tall. He had brown curly hair and a mustache, and was probably in his late thirties. However, if he was there to finish what he started, I would guess he was wearing a disguise.”
    “Is there anything else?” Trudy asked.
    “No.”
    “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” Neil said.
    Mac shrugged. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.”
    Neil’s jaw set as he handed Mac a card. “If you think of anything else, give us a call.”
    Mac dropped the card into his pocket without comment.
    “By the way, where is Aaron Workman?” Neil asked. “I expected him to be here.”
    “He went to work. If you need to talk to him, he’s at his office.”
    Neil stood up. “Thank you for your help. We’ll be in touch.”
    “So will we,” Mac said, and ushered them to the door, then locked it behind them.
    The two detectives heard the distinct click of tumblers and grinned before heading to the elevator.
    “I wouldn’t mind being guarded by a man like that,” Trudy said.
    J.R. arched an eyebrow. “Well, well, Kowalski, you never fail to amaze me.”
    The elevator opened. They walked in, then turned to face the door as J.R. punched the button to take them down.
    “Why?” Trudy asked, as the car began to descend.
    “I didn’t know you were into oversize thugs.”
    “Just because he’s bigger than you doesn’t make him a thug,” Trudy said. “Besides, I was always a sucker for men with dark hair and blue eyes.”
    Neil shook his head in pretend disgust as the door opened. They exited into the lobby, their strides equally matched in spite of their difference in size.
    “When we get to the hospital to check out the story, maybe I’d better have your blood pressure checked, too.”
    Trudy hesitated, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re jealous!”
    “You’re full of shit,” J.R. said as they crossed the lobby toward their car. “And I’m driving.”
    “Good. I don’t like to drive in snow.” J.R. grinned. “That’s because you were raised in Mobile. Your blood’s too thin, Kowalksi. When I was a kid, I had a paper route and delivered papers in all kinds of weather. It was snowing the day I had my first driving lesson.”
    She grinned at him as she got in on the passenger side of the car.
    “Yeah, and next you’ll be telling me you cut your teeth on icicles and made your first snowman before you could walk.”
    J.R.’s smile widened, but he refrained from comment. He knew Trudy well enough to know that she wouldn’t stop until she had the last word, even if it was wrong. He started the car and pulled away from the curb into traffic.
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    “To the hospital. Maybe a security camera caught something we can use.”
    “Good idea.”
    “Yeah, I know,” J.R. said.
    Trudy snorted lightly. “You are such an egotist.”
    “But I’m good.”
    Trudy rolled her eyes and laughed.
     
    Caitlin opened her eyes and then groaned at the squall of a passing siren. Instinctively she started to stretch, then winced as sore muscles reminded her not to make any drastic moves.
    “Oh God,” she muttered, pushing a hand carefully through her hair, then feeling the stitches above her eyebrow. They felt like thorns.
    Her tummy growled as she rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. Her body was at odds with her pain. It didn’t seem possible that she could be hungry when everything hurt, but she was. Without making any sudden moves, she shuffled toward the bathroom, pausing to look at herself in the mirror. The bruises looked worse, but the swelling in her lower lip seemed better.
    “One thing at a time,” she muttered, and turned away.
    A few minutes later she came out, her face carefully washed, her hair combed and caught at the back of her neck in a bright pink scrunchie. She paused at the foot of her bed for her robe, knowing she would need all her defenses to keep