She sealed up all the open parts of her outfit to ward off the chill and opened the front door. “You’re missing out.”
Lars waved her off.
Once outside she walked to the edge of the porch, closed her eyes, and sucked in a deep breath. Her cheeks instantly felt the chill in the air, and her lungs enjoyed the cold. She loved snow, she realized. The smell, the soft texture . . . the way it gave the earth a chance to slow down, both in nature and in people.
The door to the house opened and closed. “It is chilly,” Leo said as he walked up behind her, his arms wrapping around her in a hug.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Okay, my snow bunny . . . what do you want to do?”
“Let’s walk. Make fresh tracks.”
“And the snowballs?”
She took him in over her shoulder. “Someone has a fear of snowballs.”
He took his gloved hand, placed it in hers. A feeling that no longer felt awkward and in fact would be missed if it wasn’t there.
Their snow boots did a good job of digging in and not letting them slip. “Sasha and the others have really made sure we have everything we need,” she said.
“It’s much better than what the feds would have come up with.”
“You mean the witness protection program?”
“Yeah. You’d be safe, but the temporary housing isn’t nearly as nice.”
She pictured a subdivision home in the middle of nowhere. “What about the long term? How do your people set that up?”
They walked slowly on the trail, which was only outlined by fallen branches and rocks barely visible beneath the snow.
“I don’t work directly with the federal marshals on long-term placement. But they do give witnesses new identities, a place to live, a chance at getting a job so that when the federal funding is gone, they can make it on their own.”
“So the money does go away after a while.”
“Every case is different, but in most cases, yeah.”
“So eventually Marie will be on her own?”
Leo looked over. “The case from Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you know her name?”
Olivia shook her head. “I heard one of you say it. Sometime after we first arrived here.” Although she couldn’t remember who or in what context.
“Marie will be fine.”
“That’s good. She’s too young to not have a full life after what she’s been through.” She looked ahead, saw a low-hanging branch laden with snow and smiled.
“Who told you about the case?”
Olivia shrugged, her attention dialed into a new mission. “What is that?” She pointed to something on the ground beneath the tree branch, let go of Leo’s hand, and picked up her pace to get in front of him.
“What is what?” Leo asked when he arrived.
“I think it’s an animal track. Maybe a deer or something with long legs.”
He pointed away from her. “There’s more over there.”
She turned away and Leo reached up and pulled on the branch, cascading snow all over her.
“Ohhh!”
“Deer tracks, my ass. You’re sneaky, Olivia, but—”
She did not give him a chance to finish his sentence. She reached down, cupped her hands, and tossed a mound of snow right in his face. He hadn’t shaved in two days, and the snow stuck to his chin like Santa Claus.
She laughed deep in her belly.
“Oh, it is so on,” he said, laughing when he bent down to deliver a human snowplow of his own.
She ducked his first attack and ran, not getting far with a foot of snow making it difficult to lift out of it. Reaching down as she went, she rolled snow into a neat little ball, turned, and took aim.
He was ready with ammo of his own.
She found a tree, took cover. “You know the difference between you and me?”
“What’s that?” Leo’s voice was close.
“I’m not afraid to get hit.”
She cleared the tree with three snowballs ready to go.
Only he wasn’t there.
Then she felt a splash of snow on her butt.
She turned and fired at Leo as he retreated laughing.
They went at it until she felt breathless and warm from the effort of running, dipping, and weaving in the snow.
She knelt behind a tree, Leo stood behind another one, both of them rounding perfect balls to hurl at each other.
When was the last time she’d had a snowball fight?
The early days at Richter. When life was still innocent. The memory brought a smile.
Olivia stopped cold.
Richter.
Images flashed in her head . . . memories. Snowballs and stolen kisses in the stacks.