Free Winter Wolf by RJ Blain Page A

mine was the one of the few capable of storing a car; the others had narrow hallways unfit for any vehicle.
    Dust covered the tarp I’d thrown over the old Porsche. I’d picked it up as a junker, and had been restoring the car to its former glory. I longed to start it up and rev the engine just to hear it purr, but if I succumbed to the temptation, I would spend hours under the car tinkering with it rather than doing what needed to be done. Settling with patting my car’s roof, I forced my attention on what was important: Scott and his friends.
    What I needed was in a shoe box buried under a pile of boxes just like it. If someone was observing me, all they’d see was a woman looking for something. They wouldn’t see a wizard pulling out her arsenal of weapons, stashed away for when they were needed. I smiled a little.
    It took me over an hour to reach the precious box at the bottom. Like the others, I checked it, making a satisfied noise since nothing had disturbed my hidden cache. I closed it, added it to my growing pile of things I was taking home with me, and kept digging around. Selecting two more boxes full of random trinkets and costume jewelry, I put everything else away.
    Stashing my collection of boxes in several reusable bags, I hit the streets in search of a cab.
    Instead, I got a police car. No sooner had I stepped out of the storage facility, Detective Harding emerged from his cruiser, approaching me with a faint smile. Before I could shake myself free of my surprise, he held out my cell phone. “We have everything we need from this, Ms. Thomas. I thought you’d like it back.”
    With wide eyes, I shifted my bags around so I could take my phone from him. “Thank you, Detective Harding. You were following me?”
    “For your protection, of course. I happened to be nearby, so I took over observation duty. Do you have a few minutes? I have some questions for you.”
    I had questions of my own, including why I was being followed around, but I settled with a nod. He opened the back door of his cruiser, and without a word, took my bags from me and put them inside. After settling my things to his satisfaction, he held open the front door for me.
    I buckled up and tried to ignore my growing unease. Detective Harding drove in silence for several blocks, letting me stew.
    “I think it would be wise if you joined California’s Witness Protection Program,” he began, his eyes on the road.
    “Did something happen?”
    “Two more young men were found. There were no witnesses. You’re the only witness we have who was so close. We feel it is prudent that you have the appropriate protections. That’s why I was having you followed.”
    There was nothing left of the hard edge that made me dislike the man the previous night. If anything, I felt a little sorry for him. There were dark circles around his eyes, and I wasn’t certain he’d gotten any sleep at all.
    “That’s terrible,” I whispered.
    Detective Harding nodded in agreement. “Your cooperation is invaluable, Ms. Thomas. We want to ensure your safety.”
    “I won’t run and hide,” I said, surprised by the confidence in my voice—confidence I didn’t feel. “I can’t. I worked too hard to get to where I’m at. I can’t disappear, not now.”
    “What do you mean?”
    I wondered about the quiet resignation in his tone. “I have a closed audition for a movie tomorrow.”
    “Actors rarely accept witness protection,” Detective Harding said, his tone still soft.
    “We’re not good at hiding, are we?”
    “No, you’re not. And it gets people killed. We don’t want that to happen to you. Whoever is doing this is brutal and vicious, Ms. Thomas. Let us protect you.”
    “I won’t run or hide,” I repeated. My confidence strengthened, making my voice clipped and clear with little evidence of my laryngitis.
    Detective Harding stared at me, startled into silence for a long moment. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
    I sighed. Most people