Free Some Kind of Magic by Theresa Weir Page B

slipped on her down jacket and crocheted cap. She fed Hallie, then put a kettle of water on the stove and waited for the room to warm up.
    Whenever she was really cold, she went outside to the sauna. It used electric heat, and took only a short while to warm up. But lately she'd been trying to conserve on the electricity, plus she didn't think her relationship with the criminal had moved to sharing a sauna, and somehow she thought he would probably follow her there.
    A few minutes later, she heard him in the bedroom, shoving the bed back where it had been. Maybe it was because she was exhausted, but the whole handcuff thing seemed so stupid now. The guy was harmless. Was it really her duty to be a good citizen and turn him in? She didn't know. She just wondered who Olivia was.
    ~0~
    Five minutes later, she was curled up in the corner of the couch in front of the stove, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Behind her, Dylan opened the front door, letting in a blast of arctic air. He whistled.
    Hallie made an instant appearance, slobbering all over Dylan, her nails tapping on the wooden floor as she danced around in excitement.
    Dylan good-doggied her and pet her hard, the way guys did when they roughhoused with dogs. Claire didn’t think Anton had ever given Hallie a single pat on the head.
    “There’s water for hot chocolate on the stove,” she said over her shoulder.
    She heard him banging around in the kitchen. A few minutes later, he sat down on the floor near the fire, his back against the couch. Hallie dropped down beside him, her head resting on his thigh.
    “How much trouble can you get into if the police catch you?” Claire asked.
    He ruffled the thick hair around Hallie’s neck. His wrist was red and raw-looking from his angry tug at the bed.
    “I don’t know.”
    She swallowed. “A life sentence?” She could barely get the question past her tight throat.
    “I don’t know.”
    The room was getting almost hot. Claire suddenly remembered her jacket and cap. She took them off.
    “That’s the ugliest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said, staring at the cap with the same horrified expression Libby often used.
    “I like it.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it was a present. Because someone went to the trouble to make it for me.”
    The heat, after the cold, was making them both drowsy.
    Ten minutes later, Claire was half-asleep in one corner of the couch. She opened her eyes once to see Dylan sprawled out in front of the fire.
    She didn’t know another thing until pounding at the front door had her sitting upright, her heart hammering in alarm the way it always did whenever something awakened her from a deep sleep. Hallie ran to the door, barking.
    Claire was surprised to see that it was light out.
    She checked the wall clock—6:45 A.M.
    Knock, knock.
    “Claire!'" A man’s voice.
    On the floor near her feet, Dylan stirred. His eyes came open to stare at her. Scared. Don’t say anything . Please.
    “Just a minute!” Claire shouted, rubbing her face, getting to her feet.
    She sneezed violently. Once. Twice. Behind her, she heard the sound of Dylan scrambling across the floor, getting the hell out of there.
    She opened the door just in time for another sneeze. “Sorry,” she mumbled behind her hand, eyes watering.
    Sheriff Docherty.
    Hallie gave him a welcome of her own, the usual crotch sniff.
    “Hallie.” Claire pulled her away.
    “I stopped by yesterday and nobody was home. Then this morning we found your Jeep. You okay?”
    “Fine.” She sniffled. “Except for a cold.” Hallie wandered a few feet away, then squatted in a pile of snow. Poor girl had a weak bladder.
    “I don’t want to scare you, but you probably heard there’s a criminal loose. You sure everything is okay?”
    Claire looked down at the bucket of frozen vomit Dylan had left at the door. She looked back up. “Fine.”
    “Haven’t seen anything, have you?” he asked, watching her intently. All she would have to do