Page 12 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
“You can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
“You have evidence on you. They’re going to want to swab your hands down.”
I sigh. “Oh right. My life is hell. You keep making me forget that.”
He smiles, “I’m happy to help your forget again, once you’re not covered in evidence.”
“Promise?”
“Hell yes.”
But as I sit there on my bed, waiting for Wes and whoever else to show up, I can’t help but think, “This is my life now. Riker knows where I am. He always finds out. I should have just let him take me and be done with it.”
But then I remember all the people he helped murder by selling guns to bad guys, and I recall the look on the man’s face when he shot him, and I can’t give up. Tommy Kowalski. I’ll never forget his name. Since he shot that thug in front of me, I see that look in my mind at least once a day. I could be watching TV or reading a book about dogs, it doesn’t matter. At some point, Tommy’s face materializes in my brain. Sometimes, it’s when I’m falling asleep. Those nights, I don’t sleep.
When Wes arrives, all I can do is cry. Wes was the first man to comfort me after Tommy’s death, and the first to realize I had nothing to do with any of the gun smuggling. I send him the dictation, grateful to Jordan for having thought of it. He holds me until I quiet down.
Wes Jennings has been my rock in the white water rapids of my life. His chestnut hair and friendly green eyes were the balm I needed after everything. If he hadn’t been happily married, I would have had a hard time keeping my hands off him when we met. “Thank you for coming all the way out here, Wes.”
He frowns. “You know that’s my job, right?” Then, he smiles. The kidder.
I roll my eyes, “You know I’m grateful, right?”
“Yeah. Jordan’s getting swabbed for evidence by the agents downstairs, just to be on the safe side. I’m sorry about all the confusion with him. He’s a great guy though. I trust him with my life.”
“And mine, apparently.”
He winces, then gives an excuse, “Well, Floyd is a long way out, and we can’t be everywhere all the time, sadly.”
“I’m glad he’s here, Wes. He seems to be really wonderful. And his timing was perfect. I…wait, why did he come back? He had a call for a fire.”
Wes nods, “Before he got into town, the fire department called him back. The call was to an address that doesn’t exist. So when the call was cancelled, he thought something might be up with you. And it’s a good thing I told him about your situation, or else he never would have thought anything was wrong here?—"
“Look, I get it. Tag the whole town in, if you want to. Just let me know ahead of time, so I don’t feel like an idiot, okay?”
He smiles. “Will do. How are you feeling?”
“Well, I already threw up breakfast and post-break-in bourbon, so I’m feeling great now.”
“That’s the spirit. We have the surveillance footage, the samples from you, your dictation, all that. But if there’s anything else that comes to mind?—"
“You’ll be the first and only person I call,” I promise.
“Here’s your new phone. And I’ll see about getting you relocated as soon as we can, but?—"
“Why is there a ‘but’ in that sentence, Wes?”
He frowns. “Fast relocations are for witnesses who follow the rules.”
“I follow the damn rules!”
Wes raises an eyebrow, “Allof them?”
“All of the ones that make sense.” My voice sounds petulant in my own head, so I know he hears it, too. I hate when I sound like this, but I am just over all of it. My life is a mess, and the Witness Protection rules suck, which makes everything so much worse. “Not my fault your rules are dumb.”
“And that’s why my boss denied a fast relocation for you. If you’re not careful, Stella, you could lose all of the program’sprivileges and rights. I need you to take that seriously. Nothing is worth that.”
