Keeping Katie

by Stella Quinn

  Hauling out her car keys, Katie headed for the elevator and the long trip down to ground-level. Finding Veronica was what was important. Fun could wait. And so could deciphering all these unsettling Anton-and-Katie relationship clues.

  Chapter 14

  Anton’s alarm broke through his usual background noise of waves on rocks at the viciously early hour of five o’clock. He lay in the dark for a few seconds, wondering what in blazes had prompted him to set it for such a crazy time.

  Oh! Katie, road trip, stakeout. That was why—not crazy alarm-setting, but hopeful alarm-setting.

  He rolled out of bed and staggered to the walk-in closet that the architect had installed under the eaves of the sharply pitched roof, back when he’d had the cottage renovated to add a little twenty-first-century function to its nineteenth-century charm. He scratched at the beard that had grown in overnight. The shave could wait. A run, a coffee, and a scramble of something involving eggs and bacon and the chives that were taking over his micro veggie garden were first on the day’s list of priorities.

  He caught himself humming as he ran the track down from the cliff. The moon had disappeared, and the last of the stars were winking out as the ochre of a new day bloomed over the Santa Lucia mountain range to the south. A squirrel scampered across the road ahead of him as he turned away from town and headed along the coast road south. Photo by Mizuki, he thought at the crossroads, where a giant oak stood sentinel in the front garden of an old weatherboard house. One of the first photos he’d used in his Happy Snaps column. Caught the school bus from right out front of that tree, the man had written in his caption. Fell out of it more times than I can count and held hands with a girl called Stacy once, which I wrote about in my diary for weeks. I took this photo a couple decades later when I came for my school reunion and posted it to my Reel Life account so I could remember it always. I feel like a happy ten-year-old every time I pass that tree.

  Anton slowed for a morning milk truck carrying a full load from one of the farm co-ops, and then he took an inland route home. The bakers were hard at work behind the frosted windows of Dessert First Bakery as he circled though town, and he could smell coffee beans roasting through the open doors of the cafés lining the esplanade. Redwood Cove was waking up, and he was waking up with it. His eye was caught by the shine of a well-loved slippery dip in the children’s playground in the park. Photo by Sasha, he thought. This playground is where my baby first said ‘Mom’.

  Little things, he thought as he wound his way up the narrow, zig-zag track that led into his front garden. Little, imperfect memories added up one by one into a wonderful life. He hoped. Maybe that’s what his Happy Snaps column had been teaching him all these months.

  The morning run and the memories of other people whose little memories he’d envied were on his mind when Katie drove up to his front porch in a spectacularly battered hatchback…perhaps that was why he lifted his phone and snapped a photo as she stepped out of the driver’s seat with a huge golden dog bulldozing her way out behind her.

  Katie wore a yellow slip of a dress. Her hair was blowing about her face in the breeze lifting off the ocean, and the sun was making her skin glow.

  A happy memory of his own. Hopefully the first of many.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling up at him, and it felt like the sun had risen twice that day, just for him.

  He would have said hello back, but Rose rocketed up to his feet and sat on her haunches, lifting a paw. “Er…high five?”

  The dog obliged by tapping his outstretched hand then disappearing into his house.

  Katie’s face switched from smiles to stricken. “Oh, I am so sorry, Anton. She doesn’t normally barge into houses uninvited.”

  “It’s fine. You want to come in for a bit?”

  “Well…”

  Her face was a picture of curiosity and embarrassment. He decided to let her off gently. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first person to want to check out my house. It is pretty special.”

  “Special?” Her voice was reverent. “It’s stunning.”

  He held out his hand. “Come check out the terrace on the ocean side.”

  She slipped her fingers into his, and his morning rush to be ready all became worth it. He led her through the narrow passageway that opened out into the shared kitchen and living space and then through the wide French doors onto the terrace.

  “Oh my word,” she breathed.

  “Yeah. I think that every time I sit here.”

  “The ocean! The birds, the sky…and these geraniums. Wow, my Uncle Roly would have gone nuts for these. He was a begonia man first, but geraniums were his second love.”

  “I water them, but I can’t take more credit than that.”

  She dropped his hand to walk over to the old stone wall that circuited the narrow terrace and peer down to the bay below, where Redwood Cove’s residents could be seen bustling about the streets and foreshore. “I could spend hours just people watching.”

  He could spend hours just watching her face.

  “I love it, Anton.”

  He shrugged. “Thanks.”

  “This place was nearly a ruin when I was growing up here. When I was at high school, kids used to break in to check if there were ghosts here.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I heard that. None so far.”

  She rested a hand on Rose’s head, who had found her way out to them and sat neatly by her owner’s side as though she’d never barged her way into a strange house in her life. He was beginning to suspect that Rose fancied herself a matchmaker. He’d have to invest in some rawhide snacks next time he was at the store…keep her on his team.

  “I guess…we should head off?” Katie said.

  “Sure. Let’s go.” If the day went well, and they were able to make contact with Veronica and set Katie’s fears to rest, perhaps they could end the day here where they’d started it. On his terrace, the sunset spread out before them, sharing a—what random letter had he picked in his recipe book this week? V?—sharing a vindaloo, perhaps.

  He settled himself in the tiny space of her hatchback passenger seat, ramming the seat back as far as it would go. He could offer to take his car, which would fit him, Katie, and a family of golden retrievers, but this was her day. If playing sidekick meant scissoring himself into a space that hadn’t been designed for a guy who’d used a basketball scholarship to get himself through college, he was cool with that.

  “What’s brought on the road trip?” he said as they spun through town and hit the coastal freeway. “Did you get a phone call from Vee’s mystery crush at the local SantaCal branch?”

  “No such luck. Andy—that’s my boss at Redwood Cove Airport—offered me a day off from work today, so I thought I’d take the time to head on over to Maple Ridge and visit my sister’s apartment, her place of work, and so on. The police department too.”

  “I’m sorry that lead didn’t pan out.”

  “Yeah, me too. You know, I could have sworn your bank manager friend, Cath, knew who we were talking about.”

  “Totally. She practically had little cartoon lightbulbs in her eyes.”

  Katie took her eyes off the road to flash him a look. “I know, right?”

  He checked his watch. 7.20 a.m. Early, but worth a shot anyway. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. There she was, tucked neatly in between Canton King Takeaway and Cavendish Road Publishers. Hmm. Joe and Han, the proprietors of his local Chinese takeout store, he should put on speed dial. The other number—his publisher’s number—he’d been avoiding. He let his eyes rest on Katie’s face for a moment. She didn’t know where her sister was, and she was worried, but instead of sticking her head in the sand and hoping it would all go away, she was hell-bent on finding answers, working on a solution to her problem.

  Unlike him. His books—in particular the manuscript he was contracted to write but had written exactly zero words for—were a major problem, but he’d been the proverbial ostrich about them. Head do
wn in the sand every time his publisher called.

  Maybe he was ready to do something about that. What, he wasn’t sure yet. But something.

  After Katie found Veronica, and after he found a way to keep Katie in his life.

  He set his fingertip fair and square over the words Cath SantaCal in his contacts list and held the phone to his ear as the ringing started.

  “Cathy Baxter, SantaCal Bank, Redwood Cove branch.”

  “Cath, hi. Anton Price here.”

  “Anton. Calling before office hours, be still my beating heart. I assume you’ve finally caved to your inner need for a cougar in your life and want to ask me out on a date?”

  He chuckled. Cath was as wedded to being a smart-mouthed, career-driven spinster as he was to his peaceful, ocean view terrace. “Nice one.”

  Her bantering tone switched a gear. “Is this about the matter you were in for the other day?”

  “Yep. I don’t want to pressure you—just wondered if you had anything you could legally tell me. We’re running on empty here.”

  “I’m sorry. I spoke to Fra—um, the person who I think Veronica may have been hinting about, but he looked at me like I had rocks in my head when I suggested he give your friend a call. I don’t think he has anything to do with Veronica, he says he barely knew her. Plus, he’s been at work all week, and there have been no signs of lipstick on his collar, if you get my drift.”

  He sighed. “Okay, understood. Thanks Cath, I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, Anton. Be sure to let me know when your new book’s hitting the stores, won’t you? I’m your biggest fan.”

  “I’m having a bit of a break, actually Cath.” Wow. That was the first time he’d not prevaricated and just let the general public assume he was all systems go on the Anton Price blockbuster gravy train.

  “Aw, Anton. You take the time you need. I’ll just be looking forward to the next one even more. You tell that girl of yours I’ll be calling her as soon as Fra—er, that person decides to be helpful.”

  “Sure. Thanks Cath.” He dropped his phone into his lap and let his gaze rest on Katie—who wasn’t his girl, not by a long shot.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Nothing?”

  “Whoever Vee had a crush on, his first name begins with an F, and then possibly an R.”

  “Fred? Fraser? Franco?”

  “And…” This was the downer. “He’s been at work all week and thought Cath was nuts when she suggested he knew your sister.”

  “Hmm.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “That sounds like a dead end.”

  He smiled. “There’s no such thing as dead ends when you’re solving clues. We make a note, we move onto the next lead, and we circle back later if we need to.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, man, is that the crossword guy speaking? I have had the worst week wading through that stuff you gave me.”

  His hand had somehow or other found its way to a lock of hair dangling just below her ear. He wrapped it around his finger. “The worst week?” he murmured.

  He could see her neck move when she cleared her throat. “Well, okay, that is an exaggeration. We’ve all had worse weeks. A tricky, sleep-deprived week, I should have said.”

  “You could have called me. I can decipher clues in my sleep.”

  “Said no normal person ever,” she said.

  He grinned. “Normal is overrated. Which clue got you riled up this bad?”

  “Well, for starters, there was this inane one: two down: Say no to trash.”

  “A classic two phrase, one meaning clue.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Am I the only person in California who thinks these things are impossible? I am so not smart.”

  He wanted to sniff that lock of hair in his fingers so badly it was like an ache. “Untrue. You are one smart cookie, Katie Shields.”

  Rose gave a low woof from her spot tethered in the back seat, and he laughed. “Your dog agrees.”

  “She’s biased. I feed her and let her sleep at the end of my bed. She is legally obliged to think I’m smart; it’s in our dog ownership contract.”

  He reached back and rested his hand on Rose’s head. “You and I are going to be great friends, Rosie girl.”

  He received a fat lick across his palm in agreement.

  “So, what’s step one in today’s stakeout program?”

  Katie looked at her watch. “Another hour or so until we’re in Maple Ridge. I thought we could try Vee’s apartment first, then her work, then visit the Police Department.”

  “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Katie looked across at him. “I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone.”

  He felt glad to be the one chosen to be her company. “Katie?”

  “Yes?” Her voice had a little rush in it this time, that he hoped like heck meant he wasn’t the only one feeling like all his tomorrows had just landed in his lap, if only he had the courage to accept them.

  “When we find your sister?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m still going to want to see you.”

  Her smile and the blush riding high across her cheekbone as she dragged her gaze back to the highway were enough to make him hope that she felt the same way.

  Chapter 15

  Veronica’s apartment was a bust. Katie made Anton stay on the sidewalk to keep his eyes on the windows while she pressed the buzzer beside the entry door.

  “No movement,” he called up.

  She peered in through the glass door to where a curved set of stairs led upwards. A tattered umbrella lay abandoned in one corner, and a drooping cactus sheltered in another.

  “Pity we can’t get inside to bang on her door,” she muttered as Anton came up the stairs beside her.

  “That’s your literal brain thinking,” he said. “Allow me.”

  She watched in equal parts horror and awe as he pressed all the door buzzers, one after the other. After a second’s pause, a deep voice cut through the intercom.

  “If that’s my pepperoni double cheese, bring it up to level three." The voice cut out, and the door buzzed. Anton gave it a nudge with two fingers, and the lock opened.

  “Open sesame,” he said.

  “I can’t believe that worked. Has that guy not seen California Psycho?”

  “I don’t think a guy who orders pizza for breakfast is overly concerned about being some psycho’s fetish.”

  She sniffed. “Good point.”

  He grinned at her, and her not-so-icy heart did a little loop-de-loop. “Thriller Writing 101, Katie. Have a bold hero.”

  She tried for a flippant response, but that phrase, bold hero, had seized hold of her hormones and scrambled them into mush.

  “What number is your sister’s apartment?”

  “Er…five. Up two flights.”

  She followed him up the stairs, trying very, very hard not to let her eyes find out whether he had a bold hero’s butt. Focus, she reminded herself. Focus!

  The door to Apartment Five was off-white, with two silver locks neatly inset above a chrome handle. No claw marks. No signs that an axe had ever gouged out chunks of timber in an attempt to break in...or out. As doors went, it was as bland as could be.

  She knocked anyway, despite knowing in her heart that Vee wasn’t there. No way could Vee be living there just ignoring all the messages Katie had left on her machine.

  Silence followed her vigorous knock, only broken when the door opposite snapped open and an elderly woman with a tortoiseshell cat weaving in and out between her neat navy slippers asked them what on earth they were doing making such a racket just when she was trying to watch her show.

  Katie didn’t know who was more surprised: her and Anton, to finally gain access to someone they could question about Veronica’s whereabouts, or Rose, who had spotted the cat and frozen into a state of pre-lunge readiness.

  “Staaaaay,” she ordered her dog in the alpha tone she used for just such cat emergencies. The fur on the back of Rose’s ne
ck quivered with the effort of being obedient. Katie shot a wild look at Anton.

  “I’ll take the dog,” he said. Clearly, Thriller Writing 101 must include being able to size up a pressure cooker situation in a heartbeat and react. She smiled at him gratefully and passed the lead to him before turning to the woman.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m Veronica’s sister; she lives in number five. I haven’t heard from her in a few days, and I’m a bit worried. You haven’t seen her by any chance?”

  The woman inspected Katie through her fancy, emerald-green eyeglasses. “You must be Katie.”

  “Oh, I am.” Thank heavens, Vee and the lady must be a little acquainted.

  “Well, Katie, I’ll thank you to stop ringing your sister’s phone all the hours of the day and the night. Her phone noise comes right out her window and floats straight into mine, and if I have to hear “It’s me, Katie” again, I’m going to have six conniptions. I am eighty-three, young lady. I can’t handle any more conniptions in my day.”

  Katie cleared her throat. So…not apartment neighbor buddies then. “Er, I’m sorry. Again. But can you please tell me if you’ve seen her?”

  The neighbor’s gaze narrowed. “Well, now I think on it, I did see her last weekend, running up and down these stairs making a racket like is not allowed in this building’s by-laws.”

  A racket? “What sort of a racket?”

  “Her and that fancy-pants man of hers. Nearly took out Pandora here with a ladder.”

  Katie dropped her eyes to the cat, who was sitting by the woman’s navy slipper and looking up at her in that smug, unblinking way that cats had. “Nothing since then? No more…er, rackets or broken by-laws?”

  “Are you giving me sass, young lady? I am eighty-three years old, and I do not take sass.”

  “No, ma’am,” Katie said, suppressing her grin and wishing for the world that Anton hadn’t missed this interchange.

  “Then I have nothing more to say. Come, Pandora!”

  Katie was giggling as she hauled open the door of her hatchback and rejoined Anton and Rose in the car.