Mine's to Kill Read Online Free PDF Page A

had heard of a large majority of the interpreters in the area. Then again, he had never worked with any who worked for the police helping deaf witnesses describe a crime. By the end of two hours, when it was too late to even think about having a meal or anything else normal before bed, the Feds were finally getting to the point.
     
    “You’ll testify at the trial when we catch this guy,” Agent Catskill said. Colt’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the man. He didn’t even ask; he just assumed. Sure, Colt knew he wouldn’t have a choice whenever it came to trail but a little respect wouldn’t hurt the aging, balding, agent. Okay, maybe he couldn’t pinpoint the man’s age. He was losing his hair in the top leaving a light coat of blond to cover the sides and back of his head, but that had happened to younger men. He had a beer gut that had happened to younger men too, but the aging lines made him look late forties in Colt’s opinion. Whatever the man’s age he could at least be respectful.
     
    “And of course you’ll go into the protection program so we can keep you safe.”
     
    Like hell he would! He was not leaving his home. He was not abandoning his life. He made sure they knew that too. His hands started flying in a barrage of signs. His signs were angry and large enough to let them know he would not let them dictate his life. He was deaf, not stupid. He knew his legal rights, probably better than they did.
     
    His interpreter tried to keep up, but Colt knew when he was angry he was like a speed signer, very few people could keep up with that. It was fine by him so long as they got the point that he was not going into their stupid program.
     
    “Am I free to go now?” He signed.
     
    “Um…okay, sure, but the program would be for your protection. This guy is a serial murderer.”
     
    “You don’t care about me. You care about your case. I said no. You want protection, park your crap car down the street,” he signed furiously. “I’m not some disabled puppet you can control.” He had experienced more than his share of people who tried to rip him off or control him just because he was deaf. He wouldn’t allow it again. The trusting man that he used to be left the moment he realized being deaf was something the unscrupulous saw as a doorway to swindler heaven.
     
    He pulled his keys out his pocket and started to leave until one of the detectives told him an officer would take him home for safety reasons. He didn’t understand why until he found out the media was in front of the precinct because they caught wind that there was a witness this time. Great, that was all he needed. He tried to avoid the media circus of clowns even when he was doing an art show. He certainly didn’t want to deal with them now.
     
    Colt took the ride in the unmarked blue Sedan as requested. He even let the officer into his studio apartment so he could be sure it was secure. Colt had his doubts on their over protective nature. The guy didn’t even know who he was. Sure, he had seen him, but unless this killer was a purveyor of the arts there was no way he would know exactly who Colt was and he wouldn’t be able to find out where he lived.
     
    When Colt bought the studio apartment building with the store included downstairs he had a distinct vision of what he would do with the place. The building had sat empty for nearly four years so he got a great deal. The original idea was to turn the upper area into his home and the lower into his studio, but after he settled in at his new home he realized he wanted to paint with a view so he took a portion of the studio and turned it into an area to paint. The downstairs just became an empty free space that he still didn’t know what he planned to do with it. Right now he would house supplies, like paints and canvases. He had learned how to do his own frames so he had wood and tools down there too. Everything was neatly done, but there was still a great portion of the