by Amy Shojai
“Missing you.” His low voice prompted shivers, this time of pleasure. “But yeah, the kids love it. Willie’s all about the rides, the scarier the better. Melinda likes the shopping. I may need to buy another suitcase to get all the booty home.”
“That’s great. Glad y’all got this time away together, even if I miss you bunches, too.” The icy wind threw snow against her face and September turned her back to its breath. Florida would be nice about now.
“So how’s it going with you? You promised to tell me more about Christmas dinner with your folks. Did everyone show up?”
She made a face, but no way would she spoil his fun with the new dramas. Time enough to share when they were together again. “Oh, it went about as expected.”
“That bad, eh?” He barked a short laugh. “Hold on a minute, honey.”
Her face warmed at the endearment. She smothered a laugh at his next words of exasperation.
“Willie, stay where I can see you. Melinda, watch your brother, please? Can you give me five minutes?” He paused, then added for September’s benefit, “We just watched the parade outside, and deciding where to go eat. Lots of people out and about, and a balmy 70 degrees. Supposed to get chillier this evening.” His voice lowered, turned husky. “Good snuggling weather.”
She laughed. “I could do with some snuggling about now. A cold front came through North Texas yesterday afternoon.” True enough. She changed the subject before he asked questions she didn’t want to answer. “So did you get me anything?”
He matched her teasing tone. “We’ve only been here a day. Don’t worry, there’ll be crap gifts a-plenty. Even got something planned for that big mutt of yours. Did I mention new luggage? Melinda’s not the only one shopping.”
She laughed as Shadow slalomed past, kicking up clouds of ice in a race around the perimeter. He barked, racing circles around her, playing zoomies like a puppy and shoving snow with his nose between play-bowing his invitation to chase.
“Are you outside with Shadow? I can hear him yelling at me.” Combs’s teasing turned a bit more serious. “He’s jealous, you know. Doesn’t like me around, wants you all to himself.”
“Don’t be silly. He likes you, too.” She scooped up snow with her other hand, and lobbed it at the dog.
“He likes me, too? So you do like me? No fooling, Ms. September?” His voice dropped low again, gruff with promise.
Her breath caught. “No fooling, Detective Combs. Maybe even more than like.”
She disconnected, still grinning, and wondered what crap gifts he’d find. September treasured the “Crappiocca Happens” cap he’d given her that Mom hated—perhaps another reason for Rose’s bump cap replacement. September pocketed her phone, then picked up Shadow’s creativity and disposed of the soiled baggy in the “doggy doo” bin. She made a mental note to find something equally silly for Combs.
September retrieved the large blue ball on a tug rope from her pocket. Shadow yelped with excitement as he bounded back and forth, churning the fresh snow into bulldoze tunnels thither and yon. She faced into the driving wind and threw the toy as far as she could. Shadow raced after it, grappling the dark object by its rope. He had to arch his neck and hold it high to keep it from dragging, but quickly fetched it to September for a repeat of the game. She tossed it again and it fell into a deep drift of snow next to the fence. Shadow stared at her askance.
For a puzzled moment she stared, then understood and laughed out loud. He’d learned a bad habit from Karma. She’d put the behavior on cue and only allowed him to indulge when she gave permission. Shadow wanted his big ball, but wanted permission to indulge. “Go ahead, Shadow. It’s okay, go get your ball. Dig, Shadow, dig!”
With joyful abandon, he dug out the toy. He scooped mounds of white with front paws, shoveling thick fountains of snow back between his rear legs.
After a dozen tosses, twice as many laps up and down the area, and as many recalls, she could no longer feel her face or fingers. Shadow would have played for hours, but dark had fallen in earnest.
At the park’s gate September clipped the leash back on Shadow for the trip to the car. She opened the rear door. “Kennel up.” He hopped back into the rear seat and settled with a happy sigh. She dropped his ball into the front seat, swapped it for the stuffie, and he settled happily with bear-toy clutched in his mouth.
September left her coat on as she slid into the driver’s seat and cranked up the heat. She bit the fingertips of her sodden gloves to pull first one and then the other off. Flexing her hands didn’t help. All ten fingers shined icy-white with blue-tinged nails. She held her hands before the vent, relishing the warmth as prickly-sensation returned.
Macy meowed.
“I know, I’m hungry, too. We all are. Let’s find a place to spend the night and get settled.” That reminded her to check the text that Combs’s call interrupted.
Sure enough, Angela had answered.
>Forget hotel, plenty room here @ house. I’m at Martin’s getting groceries. key in mailbox. let yourself in.
“That can’t be safe, leaving a house key like that.” Shadow whined as if in agreement. Maybe Angela had planned for September to stay with her all along. “I sure didn’t want to talk about this tonight.” They had things to say to each other, difficult things, before meeting with Angela’s attorney.
She remembered Peter and Angela’s address on White Oak Drive. The old but comfy home, conveniently near the Notre Dame campus, held happy memories of Chris. She wondered if his parents still decorated with the kitschy inflatable reindeer. “Guess we’ll find out, huh?” She texted her acceptance and thanks. Shadow’s tail thumped and he snuggled bear-toy close. Macy purred. She’d grab some food on the way.
GEORGE NODDED WITH satisfaction and relief at September’s text. That gave him time to put a few more details in place. Better she didn’t come to his office. He could still fix this. Just a matter of tying up one more loose end.
Chapter 13
CHARLIE HELD HER BREATH in her hiding place behind an ornate floor-to-ceiling cat tree. Intrigued as much as scared, purple bangs covering gray kohl-rimmed eyes, she eavesdropped on the angry conversation in the next room. When the war of words turned physical she stuffed a tattooed finger into each ear, but she couldn’t drown out Sissie Turpin’s cries. Charlie shook, flinching with the sound of each relentless slap–slap–slap and with Sissie’s counterpoint of rhythmic shrieks.
A pause. Gasping breaths. Charlie wanted to run, but couldn’t move. She recognized his voice.
The quiet scared her more than the raised voices. Was he there for her? It didn’t sound like it, so maybe if he didn’t see her she was safe. She liked Sissie, but not enough to risk her own skin. At 110-pounds soaking wet, Charlie couldn’t compete with him. She’d learned the hard way to choose battles, hide if possible, and run when you got the chance.
Licking beads of sweat off her lip, Charlie bit back a scream when Sissie yelled again. Sissie had rescued Charlie like a stray kitten, and now Charlie could do nothing to help her.
“Stop, please stop, I told you everything.” Sissie’s fear turned to desperation. “I’m just the bookkeeper. I’ve got lots of clients, lots I never even met. What Chicago records? I don’t understand—” She shrieked again in anticipation of another slap. Either she truly knew nothing, or faked ignorance with an award-winning performance.
His persuasive tone wheedled but promised more pain. “Where do you keep your bookkeeping files? A computer? I won’t ask again.”
Oh God...he’d see her if he came into the cattery. Charlie peered around the cat tree at the computer desk across the room. A thumb drive with an attached lanyard poked out of one of the desktop ports.
Throat thick with tension, Charlie quickly sneaked forward and snatched it out of the computer—screw you, Mr. Persuasion!—then dived back into her hiding place. She never put the lights on to clean up each evening, so she wouldn’t be seen unless he looked directly at her.
&nbs
p; So far, out-thinking dangerous people had kept her alive. Charlie’s eyes narrowed, her mind calculating, switching to survival mode. Something on the thumb drive must be worth a lot. That could come in handy. Too bad Sissie had problems, but her own survival trumped anyone else.
Two months ago, she had run away from her Indianapolis home and taken temporary refuge at a crowded cat show. Turned out Charlie liked cats better than people: cats were great mothers, they didn’t lie, and they stood up to bullies with teeth bared and claws ready. When Sissie had heard her story, she offered Charlie a place to crash in exchange for help with the cats. Charlie didn’t believe in fairy godmothers, but Sissie came close.
On cue, the orange and white Meriwether, the biggest of Sissie’s Maine Coon cats, pawed the door open and Sissie stumbled into the room, weeping, probably tipsy from her nightly wine marathon. “Please don’t hurt my cats!” The lights flicked on.
Charlie shrank farther behind the cat tree. He wore a mask. She still knew him.
The cats wound around Sissie’s ankles. Meriwether jumped onto the desk to offer head butts. Sissie ignored the cat, booted up the desktop computer, typed in her password, and stepped away for Mr. Ski Mask to access the keyboard.
“Sit down and shut up, and just maybe you’ll get out of this alive.” He shoved Meriwether off the desk. The cat hissed.
The keyboard clacked as his gloved hands typed. Charlie peeked from behind the cat tree again. Sissie was perched on the edge of the rolling desk chair, face buried in Meriwether’s orange and white fur, while another cat curled around her feet.
“Nothing here. What are you trying to pull?”
“Nothing, I promise. It’s a new desktop. My cats crashed the laptop last week and I haven’t had time to—”
“The files are on the laptop? Where is it?” Charlie heard him yank open file cabinet drawers, shuffling through the contents.
Sissie’s voice trembled. “Trashed. The garbage truck came yesterday. I promise, it didn’t work anymore.” She shook uncontrollably, making the casters on the rolling chair clatter.
“But you have a backup. To load onto the new computer. Am I right?”
Charlie clutched the drive in one fist and showed her teeth, hissing under her breath. She wondered how much he’d pay to get it. It could mean she wouldn’t have to rely on Sissie’s plan, or look over her shoulder for him ever again. She’d take back control of her own life—and her body.
Sissie gasped when he slapped her again. “Yes, yes, I have a backup.” Her voice scratched like fingernails on a blackboard. “It was right there in the desktop. Maybe the cats played with the cord and it’s around here somewhere, if we look.”
Another slap. “Don’t be cute. I’m paid to collect the files and eliminate loose ends. No files to collect, no laptop, and you’re the only loose end. Nothing personal.” Another gasp, and then silence.
Charlie’s breath caught. Eliminate. She looked at the thumb drive in her hand. Her breath returned, gasping, whimpering, and she put both hands over her mouth to stifle the sound. Thank God, he’d not noticed her.
He spoke into his phone. “Yes, I’m here. No files. Yeah, I think she tried to get rid of ‘em like our friend says. Told me she trashed her old laptop—it’s long gone—and the new computer appears clean.” He paused. “Agreed, no loose ends. I’ll make it look good.”
An icy wet nose touched her cheek. Charlie squealed and flinched, jostling the tree. She looked up to see the emerald green eyes of Sherlock, a snow-white cat perched above her on the cat tree. He pawed her shoulder, asking to assume his favorite perch across her shoulders.
When he heard her, he strode quickly across the room, teeth bared. He recognized her and removed his mask, making sure she’d seen his familiar, expressionless face.
She knew what that meant. No more chances. She’d been warned.
Charlie bolted upright, braced herself, and pushed over the cat tree. It crashed on top of him.
Sherlock leaped from the falling tower and clutched her neck. Together they dashed from the room, leaving behind crying cats snuggled tight against the dying Sissie.
Chapter 14
SHADOW SNUGGLED CLOSE to September’s side in the strange bed. His cat, Macy, purred softly from her other side. Shadow lifted his head, scanning the dark room from side to side. Fur bristled along his shoulders, making it hard for a good-dog to settle.
The deserted house held strange smells that spoke to him of sorrow, fear, and death. But September slept fitfully, unaware, her exhaustion holding her captive in dreams that echoed the danger she ignored. Now and again she stirred, whimpered, then fell silent. His job was to keep her safe, staying by September’s side, anchoring her to reality should the nightmares drag her down.
But the house felt unsafe. She’d not asked him to check-it-out, to patrol the building before they’d chosen this room to rest. Instead, September just latched the door closed, as if that would protect them from the unseen threats even a cat felt.
Shadow carefully stood and hopped off the narrow bed. He waited until September settled again, before he padded to the door. Sniffing the base, he whined and pawed the wood, wanting out. How could he protect September and warn her of danger when cooped up in this tiny, second-floor room?
Macy stood and stretched, yawning wide, before joining Shadow at the door. The big cat rubbed his cheek against Shadow’s neck, trilling a question.
Pawing the door again, Shadow’s claws scrabbled the hard wood surface. He watched when Macy pushed between him and the barrier, then stood back, curious. Cats could do things with paws that dogs couldn’t. And he knew Macy’s prickly unease mirrored his own.
Macy stood on his rear legs and stretched high with both paws to reach and grab the lever door handle. His weight hung on the handle a moment, until a small “snick” sound unlatched the door.
Shadow pawed the door, inadvertently shoving it closed. He whined with frustration, and again allowed Macy to shoulder him aside. Watching with interest, he tipped his head when Macy grasped the lever handle, pulled down and released the catch. This time, the cat dropped to the floor, reached beneath the door with one paw, and pulled it farther open.
With a happy wag, Shadow nosed through the opening and padded out of the room. Macy stayed behind, a feline sentry in the bedroom doorway, bushy tail curved around to cover his paws.
Hurrying down the hallway, Shadow briefly sniffed and discounted the closed doors to other rooms. At the head of the stairs, he paused, cocking his head to listen. He quickly paced down the stairs, keeping quiet the better to listen.
At the front door to the house, he examined the floor. His hackles bristled even more. Shadow tracked the scent to the nearby closet, identifying the strongest smells emanating from inside. September’s coat hung there, but something else, something bad-scary-wrong, left its invisible mark near this tiny room. He growled softly, committing the signature odors to memory.
A car passed by outside, slowed to a crawl, and stopped some distance from the house. The engine switched off. Shadow returned to the front door, peering out the murky glass sidelights, but couldn’t see any motion. The porch light illuminated white, unmarked snow filling in a good-dog and September’s footprints from hours before.
Shadow left the entry and worked his way around the house. He sniffed windows in each room, making sure nothing had come in that didn’t belong. In the kitchen, more windows and two doors offered new places to search and guard.
No lights illuminated the rear of the house, but footsteps squeaking on fresh snow brought Shadow to full alert. His lips rose, curling over bright teeth in a silent warning snarl. A shadow entered through the back yard fence. He waited, watchful, as the intruder drew near.
The door lever into the kitchen moved. Metal grated in the lock as the key released the bolt. Shadow braced himself, low growl bubbling deep in his throat, louder and louder. The door creaked open, one inch at a time, revealing a gloved hand and booted foot when a tall,
dark figure stepped inside. The intruder didn’t turn on lights. His scent matched the unsettling odors near the coat closet.
Shadow exploded with alarm barks and fearsome snarls. The man’s shouted exclamation morphed into a frightened scream when Shadow’s teeth grappled his right shin and pulled him to the floor. Shadow bit harder, refusing to let go, even when fists rained blows down on a good-dog’s head.
“What’s going on?” September cried out, followed by quick thumping footsteps down the distant stairs.
Shadow released the intruder, but redoubled snarled warnings as the man scrambled to his feet and raced away out the door. He wanted to follow the man as he limped to the fence and grappled the gate open, slamming it shut behind him. But Shadow needed to protect September, so stayed to guard the open doorway. Icy wind blew snow into the room as September hurried into the kitchen and stood shivering in bare feet.
“Good dog, Shadow. Somebody tried to get in?” September peered out the open door, then slammed it shut and shot the bolt. “They’re gone, baby-dog. You scared them off, what a good boy! Somebody else knows about Angela’s house key.” She switched on the yard lights, peering all around the fenced area. “He’s gone now.” She clicked on the kitchen lights.
He wagged and pressed hard against September’s thigh. His fur still bristled, though. Shadow worried the stranger might return. He didn’t like this empty house with fear-filled smells and strangers entering doors in the black of night.
“How’d you get out of the room? Never mind, just glad you did.” She rubbed her eyes. “No more sleeping tonight. I better call the police. Hey, where’s Angela? Didn’t she ever come home?” She gasped and made a strange face. Shadow whined in reaction. “Oh crap. I hope you didn’t just scare Angela half to death! Before we call the police, I better call to see that wasn’t her, and she’s okay.”