Page 3 of Arrow

“No shit, Sherlock,” she bit back. “The white stuff falling from the sky is snow?”

“Drop the attitude and watch your language, little girl,” Arrow warned ominously.

“What’s going on over here?” Detective Dax Allard asked, walking up to stand next to Arrow.

Fuck.

The last thing she needed was a cop digging into her life. She couldn’t trust cops, not after the last one hit her with his patrol vehicle and dumped her at the hospital.

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on. Nothing to see here. Just move along,” she said.

Dax and Arrow both raised their eyebrows at her. “She’s sleeping in her car.”

“Is that so?” Dax asked. “It’s too cold to be sleeping in your car, Emilee.”

How the fuck did he know her name? She looked back up at him again. She’d definitely seen him at The Citadel. His girlfriend was a close friend of Catie’s.

Crap.

Crap on a cracker.

He probably had his mind made up on her based on the unfair rumors being spread about her. Not that she could blame Catie. If the roles were reversed, Emilee wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t react the same way. The entire situation was a mess.

FUBAR.

Fucked up beyond all recognition.

That’s what her dad, a Marine Corps Vietnam veteran, would have said. In fact, that’s what she could categorize her entire life as right now. FUBAR. She wouldn’t be sleeping in her car if her life was going well.

“Emilee, you were asked a question.” Arrow’s gaze pierced hers, interrupting her thoughts and bringing her back to the present and the two large men standing outside her window. She’d been warm and fuzzy until she’d rolled down her window. Now, the late fall wind was whipping into her car.

“I’m fine. I have a blanket and I’m inside a sleeping bag rated for negative forty degrees.” Her car offered more security than when she lived on the streets. It was definitely better than theshady motel on the edge of town she’d been staying at. She was two years into recovery, but still needed to be as far away from drugs as she could get. The homeless shelter for women and children filled up within ten minutes of opening. She couldn’t take a spot away from a woman who had children. Besides, she felt perfectly safe parking in the lot adjoining The Rusty Crab. The veteran who owned it, Corky, had an apartment above the building that he lived in, and the lot was secured by cameras. No one bothered here, not yet. They’d run her off from every park in town but not from here. The Rusty Crab was open late and only closed for a few hours a night.

“Still, this is private property and—” Dax said.

“Did you ask the owner? I’m pretty sure he knows I’m parking here,” she interrupted. “And I’m not hurting anyone. Isn’t there a murderer or someone you could be out there bothering instead of me?”

“Snappy little thing, isn't she?” Dax asked Arrow, before turning back to her. “I am not waking Corky up at two in the morning to ask him if you can park in his lot. Chances are, he's aware you've been parking your car here. The question is, did he know you were sleeping in your car after you parked it? Likely not. Corky wouldn’t be okay with a woman sleeping outside in these temperatures. Regardless, you can't stay here.”

“That's fine. I'll head over to the truck stop off of 70.” There was a large truck stop right outside of Grand Ridge near the interstate. It was open twenty-four seven and had a sub sandwich place inside, along with showers she could rent. Even though it was a bit out of her way, she always got gas there. Their loyalty program gave free showers with so many gallons of gas. She'd been parking there, but some truckers mistook her for the working girls and hit on her. She'd had a hard time getting good sleep there, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Emilee scootedout of the backseat of the car, shut the door and walked around to the driver's side.

Damn.

It was freezing out.

“Where's your coat?” Arrow asked her.

“My what?” She'd heard him the question, but it surprised her. Why did he care if she wore a coat or not?

“Your coat. It's snowing and below freezing.” Arrow said in a not so patient voice.

“It's on the front passenger seat. I don't sleep with a coat on.” She had on heavy fleece pajama pants and a sweatshirt over long sleeve thermal Long Johns. It was plenty warm in her sleeping bag. She’d splurged on it, buying one that backpackers use up in the mountains. Opening the front door, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the ignition.

“I don't like her sleeping in the car,” Arrow turned to Dax.

“I don’t recall asking you what you liked,” she said. Arrow scowled at her while Dax pretended she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Me neither. People don't sleep in their cars in Grand Ridge.” Dax said. “I can call Phantom and see if he has anything available on Valhalla. I know they were getting ready to open the new guest lodge.”

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