A Cold White Fear by R.J. Harlick Page B

where that stupid judge sent me before they transferred me to medium.”
    â€œI assume you mean medium security.”
    â€œYa, I didn’t belong with all those hardcore killers, ain’t that right, Professor?”
    â€œYou just had the bad luck to get that particular tough-on-crime judge. Your legal aid lawyer didn’t help either,” the tattooed man answered.
    â€œWhat is SHU?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s super-maximum. No way you can escape from there,” Larry replied.
    â€œMom’s got one hell of an organization behind him,” Professor cut in. “I’m willing to wager he won’t complete his sentence. They’ll find a way to get him out.” He winked. “Look at how easy it was for us to escape, eh, P’tit.”
    Larry giggled until he gripped his stomach in pain.
    â€œMom was ratted out by one of his own. If anyone does that to me, they’re history.” His eyes pierced Larry with their glowing amber threat.
    â€œProfessor, we’re buddies. You know I’d never do that to you.” Larry shrank farther into the couch.
    The tattooed man continued to hammer his fist into his other hand with such intensity that I wondered if he’d ended up in jail because someone had squealed on him.
    An exceptionally strong blast of wind slammed against the house. I could feel it shake from front to back and top to bottom. This storm wasn’t going to let us forget that there was as much havoc happening outside as inside. By now the boy would be well under the protection of the forest canopy and on his way to Will.
    My diversion seemed to be working. Professor was more interested in dogs and being ratted out than about wondering why the boy hadn’t yet returned with the rope.
    I relaxed too soon.
    The sound of two sets of approaching footsteps filled the hall, one lighter than the other.
    Jid appeared first, his shoulders slumped, his face a mask of dejection. Melting snow dripped from his down-filled jacket while his boots left a trail of water.
    Behind him glowered Slobodan, dangling the rope from his fist.

TWENTY-ONE
    S lobodan pushed the boy into the room. “The kid try to run away. I tell him, he go, I shoot you.”
    I was numb. Gone was all chance of being rescued.
    Jid barely glanced in my direction. For a second I thought he would burst into tears, but he took a deep breath, firmed his jaw in resolution, and shook himself free of the biker’s grip. The red splotch on the side of his face had grown.
    I motioned for him to come to me and put my arm around his trembling body. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You tried your best.”
    Turning to the man, I said, “He wasn’t leaving. He was going to the woodshed to get that rope you’re holding.” I summoned up my courage. “Don’t you dare hit Jid again.”
    â€œYou do what, lady. Hit me back?” He snorted. “Kid go after cops. I stop him. He do it again, I shoot. Why he need rope?”
    I’d let Professor answer that one.
    But Slobodan didn’t wait. “What this boy to you? You say friend, but he call you auntie. You no look like him.” Slobodan let the rope fall to the floor. “You very white with your red hair. He Injun, for sure.”
    I cringed. The word was as insulting for me as it was for Jid. “Don’t call him that.”
    â€œI call him what I like,” he sneered. “So you his aunt?”
    Worried he would use our close relationship against us, I exaggerated the distance and hoped Jid would understand. “He’s just a kid from the reserve who does odd jobs for me. ‘Auntie’ is the term used by children for older women within their community.”
    â€œHey, other Injun. Wake up. You know boy?” He thumped the sofa with his foot.
    Larry, who looked to be battling his own demons, flung his eyes open. He glanced around as if not sure of where he was. “Whaddya