by Amy Shojai
There! Under the table, back behind boxes, the freshest cat scent of all. Macy mewed, and pawed at the container. He scrunched down to stick his wide head farther inside, careful to test the opening by whisker-width.
In the far back corner, doing his best to shrink himself small, Macy spied the other cat. Bigger than Macy himself. But with his face turned into the corner. He shivered, not from cold—the strange cat’s body heat warmed the small enclosed space. The pale cat had hidden himself in a fine place, one only other cats could access. Macy approved.
And Macy began to purr. No threat, no threat, no threat...
Slowly the strange white cat relaxed. His ears flicked, one turning toward Macy. He finally swiveled his face to see. Macy licked his nose as he turned his gaze aside. No threat. Macy’s purrs rumbled louder in the still air, no threat no threat no threat, so loud even September’s feeble hearing could detect them. But she didn’t move or say a word. She waited as Macy continued his calming work.
The other cat’s answering purr began, sub-vocal, something only another cat could detect. Macy backed away, shook cobwebs from his fur, then looked up at September and pawed her leg, confirming the find. She smiled and knelt beside Macy, stroking him and murmuring softly a strange word over and over.
“Sherlock. Sherlock. Here kitty, pretty boy, Sherlock, Sherlock.” She opened the treat bag and gave Macy his reward of stinky dried fish flakes. She moved a box aside and peered into the cubbyhole, too, then tossed a couple of fishy treats to the white cat.
Sherlock stood, stretched and arched his back, and yawned wide. Macy backed away, also turning sideways, and head-butted September’s arm to remind her he’d finished his treat and needed another. He trilled and rubbed the mahogany length of himself against her calf, showing the strange cat that she belonged to him—and that she also posed no threat.
Sherlock padded to the tossed treat, sniffed it, but left it in the dirt. With an answering trill of relief, he came out from under the shelter, and briefly nose-touched Macy. And he let himself be lifted into September’s arms.
Macy licked his lips after finishing the second fishy treat, and accepted September’s soft praise with pride. He led the way, tugging the leash harder and harder, anxious to get out of the snow and back to the comfort of his carrier.
Before he reached the doorway, Macy skidded to a stop when he heard Shadow’s bark. September stopped, too. Macy heard her gasp when she peered out the doorway.
The wind puffed just right, carrying the scent of the scary man waiting for them just outside.
Chapter 36
SEPTEMBER FROZE AT the sound of Shadow’s alarm barks. Macy’s stiff-legged pose and bottle-brush tail confirmed the dog’s long-distance warning. Someone waited outside the storage building.
The makeshift garage had no places large enough for her to hide. Even Sherlock had been hard-pressed to find a cubbyhole. She glanced inside Sissie Turpin’s SUV parked in the middle of the space, hoping for car keys, and for the first time noticed snowy ice still coating the hood. September looked closer, and drew in a hard breath. The front grill carried scars from recent hit and run accidents. Not Turpin’s car after all.
Mr. Bleak! He must have come looking for Turpin’s thumb drive, although she wasn’t sure how he knew about it.
Sherlock struggled a bit, before settling in her arms with a purr. September pulled the lanyard from around his neck and looped it over her own head, dropping the thumb drive down her front for safe keeping. She’d parked nearby, but with only one way out, Mr. Bleak could simply wait for her to leave.
Shadow’s barks abruptly stopped and she imagined him silently tracking the man’s movement. September guessed Mr. Bleak had moved away from her car, fearful Shadow would give him away. She hoped he didn’t know he’d already been unmasked.
She couldn’t make a run for it. She’d be tackled, or shot. Saddled with the two cats—no way would she leave either behind—she had few options. Even if she reached her car, he’d run her off the road. This time, he wouldn’t leave her death to chance, like he did with Charlie. He’d end her.
Think, think! He couldn’t see through the walls inside the building. Mr. Bleak hadn’t found Sherlock, and maybe—probably!—waited for her to collect the cat for him. And he didn’t know she’d already recovered the thumb drive. He’d wait until he knew September had it. She could use that.
She cleared her throat, and spoke with brisk authority, loud enough to be heard outside the building. “Good boy, Macy-cat, keep looking.” As she spoke, she quickly fashioned a makeshift harness out of the end of Macy’s extra-long tracking leash. She fitted it on Sherlock, then reattached the clip end to Macy’s walking jacket. With the two cats connected and easy-going toward each other—God bless show cats—she’d have an easier time keeping them safely together. “That’s right, Macy, go look up behind the boxes.”
Macy stared at her, questioning her inane chatter. He crouched beside Sherlock. The pair exchanged polite sniffs, the white cat offered his head, and Macy agreeably began to groom his neck. September pulled out her treat bag and spilled the contents to keep them engaged. She knew Shadow also listened. Her conversation had no meaning to the killer, but when the time came, Shadow would know what to do.
“Good boy, Macy-cat, you checked the top of those boxes. Good kitty.” She let the words pour out, buying time as she searched for something, anything to use as a weapon. Surely there’d be a knife somewhere, or scissors to open the cat litter bags. She needed something to puncture the tires.
“Yes, good kitty, you’re getting warmer. I don’t think our cat friend has left the building, keep looking.” She kept one eye on Macy and his new friend, while scouring the small building for something sharp. Hanging on the wall, she found what she needed.
“Yes, that’s the way. Just a bit longer, check the spot under the barrel.” The cats ignored her, thank goodness, perhaps soothed by her calm voice. She prayed the nonsense also lulled the outside listener. She needed to work fast.
September lifted down the box hook that hung by a long strand of baling twine from a rusty nail. The dull hook wouldn’t puncture the tough tires, but she could still slow the killer down. A chain would work better, but twine would have to do. She’d worked with bailing twine before, and knew all about its deceptive strength.
She cut free sections of the strands from several of the hay bales, using the twine itself to saw shorter lengths, then knotted them all together in a stout multi-strand rope. “Macy-cat, what a brilliant kitty, just one more place to look,” she called, keeping her voice cheery. She looped the twine rope under the straps holding the last bale together, with the other end tied to the box hook. The square bale sat directly in front of Mr. Bleak’s SUV. “Yes, that’s right, under the car, good Macy, you’re nearly done.” She crawled beneath the SUV and hung the box hook over the front axle, connecting the bale to the car. The twine wouldn’t hold for long, if at all, but the hundred-pound bale anchor should at least slow the car. She struggled back to her feet, grabbing armfuls of loose straw, and stuffing it behind the front tires of the car. The entire operation took less than three minutes.
Ready or not, here we go... September pulled out her car key fob, scooped a cat under each arm, and pressed the child lock release button. “Shadow, window!”
She heard the dog’s thump when his paws hit the ground. A startled intake of breath came from the near side of the garage doorway, pinpointing Mr. Bleak’s position. September ran, aiming for the other side of the opening, juggling the two cats in an awkward embrace. “Hold him, Shadow!” She didn’t look. He’d either keep the killer at bay or they’d all die.
September thrust first one cat and then the other through the car window Shadow had opened, climbed behind the steering wheel, and shoved the running car into reverse. She ducked when a bullet starred the windshield, and floored the accelerator in reaction. Her car slalomed, but tires finally caught in the dirt driveway. She saw Mr. Bleak briefly in her
car lights, crouched in a shooter’s pose with some weird headgear, and swerved with a scream before bumping onto the highway.
“Shadow!” She screamed his name again and again, frantically searching in the gloom. Another starburst scored her windshield. And then she saw her dog, racing toward her. She quickly rolled down both the front and rear passenger windows to give him a best choice, paused to change into drive, and breathed with relief as Shadow vaulted into the vehicle.
She hazarded a glance back at the house. Lights blazed in the garage when he started his car. She didn’t wait to see what happened, just pressed the gas and raced away.
MR. BLEAK TORE THE headgear off, half-blinded by the headlights, and rammed his car into reverse, cursing dogs, damning cats, and promising destruction to all difficult women. He hated everything about this assignment. How the hell had the dog got out of the car? His shot aimed at September went wild when the beast hit him behind the knees.
His car moved in an unexpected herky-jerky motion, and he cursed again, gunning the gas. It finally broke free, but something dragged underneath. He’d never catch them now. He stopped to clear the obstruction.
No worries, though. He always planned contingencies. He’d find the whole menagerie soon enough. He’d planted a tracking device on September’s car.
Chapter 37 (34 Years Ago)
TIME BLURRED FOR TANA. Every time she stopped the camper to care for the three squalling infants, she expected the police to show up. She had no plan. Tana simply drove to put as much distance between herself and the past as she could. She prayed the dumpling-woman wouldn’t tell the police. She and the driver wouldn’t want anyone to know about their black-market operation.
They might tell Kali. Being hunted by her worried Tana more than the police.
The driver left behind cash, credit card, a phone, and infant formula and diapers for what would have been a one-day delivery trip. She would run out of baby supplies quickly, and be forced to come out of hiding. At least she could feed her baby herself.
She couldn’t ask anyone for help, not when she was wanted for murder. As long as Tana knew about Kali’s operation, she’d be a threat. They’d want to find her, and silence Tana. And sell the babies. Her mind whirled, struggling for a way to keep the infants safe, and hide herself away. She couldn’t do everything herself. And she slipped up. The driver found her three days later.
He wanted the babies, and threatened to kill her on the spot. His massive screw-up left Kali in a bind. She’d already relocated his sister’s birthing operation out of state, and would kill the dumpling woman, unless he made things right.
By then, Tana had figured out what to do. She offered him—them both—a way out, to pay off Kali for the three babies. He grudgingly agreed, having no real choice. In exchange, he’d help her disappear. They’d keep each other’s secrets, to protect themselves.
Tana made a call to her sister. Far from being relieved, her sister’s shock and disbelief quickly became rage. Tana had stained the family name, shattered her parents’ hearts. Tana agreed to a deal that would define the rest of her life. In exchange for a one-time fee, wired to a predetermined location, she’d disappear forever.
With the payoff satisfied, the driver fulfilled his part of the deal. Tana took the place of twenty-two-year-old Rosalee Dixon, and Latana Ojo would be found dead after giving birth. Nobody would look for her, ever again.
Chapter 38 (Present Day)
SEPTEMBER DROVE TOO fast, risking a slide off the road but anxious to put distance between herself and the killer. The cats huddled on the floorboards behind her seat. Shadow rode shotgun in the front passenger spot, and reached out to paw her arm.
“I know, baby-dog.” She tried a cheery tone, and failed. She couldn’t stop the quaver in her voice, and unclenched one hand to stroke Shadow’s broad brow. While in the middle of planning, and then escaping the garage, she’d held emotions at bay. But now, she couldn’t still her shaking body. Her mouth tasted sour.
She’d planned to give Tee the thumb drive, but only a handful of people knew about the white cat. Detective Steele thought Tee would get Karma to track. Had Steele told Mr. Bleak about the cat? Or had he told someone else?
September yearned to call Combs, to talk it through with him. At this hour, a call would wake his kids, though, and spoil their time together. And wouldn’t help, in the long run or the short term, other than selfishly make her feel better.
At the thought, September picked up her phone, and saw that Tee had texted her. Without bothering to read it, glancing every now and then in the mirror, she slowed her pace to a safer speed, and return Tee’s call.
“Where the hell are you?” Tee shouted before September could get a word in, and then tempered her tone while Karma barked in the background. “I woke and you’re gone. I thought we agreed to wait until morning.”
“I’m sorry. But you needed the rest. If you’ve got Lyme disease, you need tests and probably hospitalization.”
“Mind your own business. I can take care of myself. No time for wimping out over some stupid rash.”
She scrubbed one hand over her face, and burst out with exasperation. “Who else knew about the cat, and the missing drives? The killer beat us there.”
“What? At the house?” Tee nearly stuttered with surprise. “Are you okay? What happened? Did you find the cat and files?”
September’s shoulders unclenched as they drove back into the city. The streetlamps turned the darkness into holiday cards. “I found Sherlock, and yep, I’ve got the thumb drive. Who knew I’d be out there?”
“Nobody.” Tee answered immediately. “Only Detective Steele. He said to look tomorrow morning. That is, today, in a couple of hours.”
September yawned. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since leaving Heartland. She wanted more than ever to be back on the road toward home. And Combs. “That’s why the guy headed there in the middle of the night.”
Tee’s tone turned wary. “Don’t even go there. My department tells stories about Detective Steele. He’s a legend. I don’t want to hear—”
“Okay, fine. So want me to drop off the thumb drive with Steele? He wanted to interview me anyway. Just as soon get that over with sooner rather than later.” She checked the mirror. Still clear, thank goodness. “Will he even be there yet?”
Tee shushed Karma. September could hear the dog fussing in the background. “Just bring it here to me. It’s barely five a.m. Steele won’t come in until later. He was still dealing with the fire at Judge Southgate’s house late last night.”
“Fire?” September’s throat clenched. Southgate? She wrinkled her brow. Where had she heard that name?
“Yeah, some kind of gas explosion they think. The whole family gathered for an early Christmas dinner, and everyone died. Well, except for a daughter who arrived late and discovered the fire.”
September pulled into a nearby gas station and put the car in park. Her hands shook. She fingered the lanyard of the computer drive that hung around her neck. “Do you have a computer with you? So we could take a look at the thumb drive first, before we give it to Steele?” She’d left her own laptop at home, never thinking she’d need more than her phone on the short trip.
“No, sorry. The locals should have a team review and send digital copies to Redford in Chicago.” Her voice sharpened. “Karma, will you please settle?” She sighed with exasperation. “I’ve got to take her outside. You have your key, so just let yourself back in. You sure you’re okay? We’ll have you file a report about the attack.” She added, with disapproval. “You’re not the police. I should have been with you for the search and recovery. Nobody wants any question about the chain of evidence.”
“Yeah, right. I understand. Take your dog outside, Tee. I’ll see you soon.” September cut her off, not wanting to hear another word. Leaving it to the police sounded fine, until someone like Mr. Bleak turned up. She’d narrowly escaped him twice, and figured her luck wouldn’t hold for another meeting
.
She had to protect herself with information. September used her phone browser to access the local news and soon had file footage from the Southgate home. Engulfed in flame, it looked like a war zone. A reporter offered voice-over commentary, and then a picture of Judge George Southgate filled the phone screen.
“I knew that name sounded familiar.” He’d been the angry man at Angela’s house who wanted her arrested. He and Steele knew each other. She did another quick search and found his office address. It looked familiar, but with Angela’s text messages deleted, she couldn’t be sure he’d been the attorney they were to meet. Now, he’d been killed in an accidental fire?
“Accidental, my ass-ets. We need help.” She whispered fiercely, Shadow and the two cats her only audience. The trio listened politely. Macy and the snow-white Sherlock had climbed into the back seat, and lay snuggled side by side—unheard of among strange cats, but September didn’t question. She needed some luck. More than that, she needed a trusted sounding board. The unexpected stress and fear could tip her into a PTSD meltdown with little warning.
Tee was sick, whether she admitted it or not. Combs couldn’t help long distance. And September didn’t trust Steele, no matter his glowing reputation or his previously being Chris’s colleague. She had to take precautions before turning over the evidence. Whoever ran this murder train wanted her tied to the tracks, too.
A dear friend helped her with a thumb drive once before. “Plan’s changed, Shadow. We can’t go home, not yet.”
She retrieved his Christmas card from the glovebox, and looked at the return address. September knew she could count on Teddy Williams.