I shook my head and handed them back. “I saw my boss’s picture on the wall, and you’re not him.”
His brows wrinkled. “On the wall, at the office?”
I nodded.
“You thought that was me.” He tried to cover a grin with his hand. “That’s Grandpa Randle. I’m sorry. I see how…” He shook his head. “I just inherited the building a couple months ago. I know the place is a mess. I haven’t had time to remodel my office and his picture—”
“You’re my boss?” I had fallen in love with my boss, and he didn’t even know me.
He nodded and smiled.
I opened the door, drew in a deep breath, and stepped to the side. “Come in.”
My laptop and vampire book laid on a desk, not far from the door, in plain sight. I looked away and rolled my eyes. I hope he bites.
He strolled up to the desk. “You’ve been working at home. I told GG to have you take your time.”
“Yes, GG. Great lady. Mr. Randle—”
“Mark.” He nodded. “We’re not formal around the office.”
“I see.” He was here. In my living room. “Mark, I feel like such an idiot for thinking that picture was you.”
“No.” He reached out and touched my hand. “I might have done the same in your shoes.”
I looked at my bare feet and doubted it, but I couldn’t stop the grin that formed on my face.
He released my hand and stepped back. “I didn’t expect to come home this soon and realized there’s only one key to the main office door. Apparently, you have it.”
He wanted the key. He wasn’t here because he’d dreamt of me all week. He needed something from me. Just the key.
“They’re in my purse. Be right back.” Weaver ran past me.
“DW, what are you doing here, boy?”
I turned to see Mark holding my cat. “You know this cat?”
“Sure, I do. He’s mine.” He scratched Weaver’s chin. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He rolled the collar around his neck to see the inscription. “I had this made for him weeks ago. How did you find him? Did he come to the office?”
“Your cat?” I handed him the keys and took back my cat. “I picked him up at a shelter. There were a lot of cats there. This one can’t be yours.”
“I’d know DW anywhere. He has a special talent.”
Weaver mewed as I held him tight. “You know about his—special gift?”
“I told you. He’s my cat.”
“You left him in a shelter. Weaver is mine now.” I glared at him as though he had a red Roman cape flying from the back of his shirt.
He stuffed the keys in his jean pocket and crossed his arms. “I see you’ve become attached. I could pay you for him.”
I pulled back on Weaver, giving the boss the back of my shoulder. “He’s not for sale.”
The phone on the desk vibrated on the wood top. I glanced at the screen and ignored my mother’s call.
What was I doing? I couldn’t make an enemy out of my boss. “I guess I could share him with you now and then. Bring him to the office.” The fur on Weaver’s head tickled my chin. “Would you like that, Weave?”
“A compromise. I don’t know about him, but I like the idea.” He glanced at the phone. “I’ll let you get back to your evening.”
I nodded. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but Weaver’s…special talent—umm…” Just go ahead and say it. “Does he make you dream?”
He lifted his brows and stared for a moment. “I’ve never said this aloud to anyone, but it’s the strangest thing. I can be working on a screenplay and dream about my work when DW is in the room. I’ve locked him out, just to see—it’s him, alright. What about you?”
“Oh.” I sighed. I wasn’t going crazy, and relief filled the air, but could I say more without sounding like a lunatic? I couldn’t discuss the heated relationships Mark and I shared through all the stories I’d read. He had no idea. “It’s happened to me once or twice.”
He smiled. “Maybe we keep this conversation our little secret.”
I nodded.
The room grew quiet as Mark reached over and petted the cat. There was something in the way he looked at me through those stunning blue eyes.
After a minute, I asked, “How’s your mother?”
He turned and picked up the vampire book from the edge of the desk. “She’s fine. She lost her dog again.”
“Your family can’t seem to hold on to animals, can you?”
“I suppose not.” He chuckled and held out the book. “Are you finished with this, by chance?”
Right then, a light bulb sizzle-snapped someplace in my head. “Yes. Do you plan to read it?” I swallowed.
“That’s why I wanted the keys. Thought I’d pick up the books and read a few chapters tonight.”
“You know, I’ve changed my mind. You keep Weaver tonight.” I shoved the cat back into his arms and gave Weave a rub between the ears. Do your thing, baby.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. “He’s probably missed you.” I smiled.
Mark left that evening with Dream Weaver in his arms. He dreamt of us that night, and several nights after. A year later, we were married. Our favorite pastime? Reading romance novels…and dreaming.
Three in the bed,
And the kitty cat said,
“Meow.”
About the Author—C. A. Jamison
C.A. Jamison holds a certificate of excellence from Romance Writers of America. She loves to create a romantic tale while peering through her window at the blue lake in the backyard. She enjoys wildlife and the peaceful surroundings in her small Indiana town. Some days, she heads to the city to help run the family’s high-tech car audio shop—rated in the top 50 in the country—which inspired her science fiction adventure, POLARITY: CHILDREN OF THE ORB. Find her at www.cajamison.com
Claws For Justice
Mariah Lynne
They seem soft and furry, but watch out—the claws will catch you every time!
Chapter One
“Find anything Shurl? The dumpster looks like it’s overflowing. Full of good food, I hope. Glad you thought of living near the shelter. Makes life so much easier.”
I hissed.
“For you, maybe.”
I couldn’t believe how anxious Watts was for breakfast.
“Hold your horses; I have to get down in there, first. I’m not real anxious about doing that since there’s a strange and not-too-pleasant smell wafting out. Give me a minute to compose myself for the dive.”
I’m a furry tabby who detests getting dirty, but when it comes to starving or escaping, I find I’m capable of anything.
Having lived with Watts in the county shelter for so long, I know he’s a Siamese who would rather starve then get dirty. So, with that in mind, I held my nose, lifted my tail, and jumped in. I wasn’t too worried. Cats always land on their feet—or so the saying goes. Lucky for me, there were some old rags and newspapers that broke my jump.
I looked around, knowing that I had to be careful of any broken glass or sharp metal. I’ve done this before but this is my first dive since we escaped the animal shelter.
Ah, the animal shelter…Watts and I shared a cage together, seems like forever. Yesterday, we overheard Robby, our attendant, tell a prospective pet parent that if we weren’t adopted by tomorrow, our time had run out. He told every human looking for a cat how smart and nice we were, and that he would adopt us himself but he already has four rescue cats at home and his pet bills were getting expensive, considering his salary.
The humans would look us over; one lady even held us, but after all of Robby’s pleading, they all said they wanted a kitten. That’s the way it goes around here. Nobody wants an adult cat over a kitten.
With that in mind, Watts and I knew we had to act fast. Right before closing that night, we heard the vet tell Robby to leave our cages shut, but not padlocked, since she would come for us first thing in the morning. W
atts started to cry.
“We’re so lovable. Why doesn’t anyone want us?”
“That’s the least of our problems right now. We have to find a way out.”
I pushed on the door but the clasp kept it from opening. I had to get at that clasp. I scampered over to our claw tower which was on wheels so it could easily be moved from cage to cage and asked Watts to help me push it near the door. If I could climb up high enough, I might be able to move the clasp with my paws.
We pushed and shoved using our back ends until the tower was next to the door. That was a lot of work for a slender Siamese like Watts and a chunky tabby like me. After I took a few minutes to catch my breath, I clawed my way up the tower and came face to face with the clasp. I hung on as best I could and reached out with one paw.
Watts yelled, “Careful, Shurl. I’ll try and catch you if you fall.”
“Yeah, right,” was all I could respond to that idea.
I swatted and swatted until—bingo—the clasp moved. The cats next to us saw what we were doing and cheered meows. They had heard Robby’s comments, as well.
“Okay, Watts, I think we got it. Get ready to run.”
I dashed down as Watts asked, “Where? They lock the doors at night. I heard there are alarms on them. No matter what we do, we’ll get caught.”
“I know Robby leaves the empty dog kennels open. They have runs with a doggy door. Once outside, the fence is wire mesh. We’ll have to try and climb it, and then jump. Not a perfect scenario, but one we’ll have to do if we want to stay alive.”
Watts had tears in his eyes. “Hope we make it.”
“We will. Positive thoughts. Ready? Let’s go.”
Watts followed me out and down the long corridor to the kennels. A few of the dogs were upset to have a couple of cats invade their space.
“Hey, get out of here. We’ll keep barking until you leave.”
I laughed. “No problem. We’re just on our way out. Watts, run as fast as you can through the next kennel. Here goes.”
We bolted through the empty kennel and out the doggy door to the open run. Once outside, we did not stop, trying to climb the fence by pouncing about third of the way up before clawing our way to the top. Watts got there a little after me so I waited. Friends for life. That’s our motto. Watts positioned himself ready to jump.
“On three. One…two…three.”
We leaped off the fence at the same time and landed on the soft grass below. Even so, I heard Watts meow in pain.
“Oh, my aching tail! I landed right on it.”
“Sorry pal, but you’ll be real happy to feel your tail tomorrow.”
“I know. I just like to complain. Where to now? How will we eat?”
That’s my Watts. Always thinking about his stomach—and he stays so thin.
“Before I met you, I lived as a stray in a wooded area not too far from here. At night, you can actually see the shelter lights. If we go there, we’ll be near the dumpster where they throw away food and near the roof drain for water. We’ll eat before the shelter opens and after it closes to remain hidden. Otherwise, they’ll drag our furry butts back there. Understand?”
“Yep. Sure do.”
Watts got up and I showed him the way to the tree-filled area. We were fed earlier today, so we weren’t hungry. He followed me across the road and down a short hill before we ended up in my old haunt.
“Remember, we have to remain discreet. That’s how I got caught. I walked up to a total stranger looking for a hand out or a forever home and he called animal control.
“When the sun comes up we’ll go get some grub. I’ve jumped in dumpsters before. Not pleasant but necessary. Now, find a thick patch of grass and go to sleep. I’ll do the same. You were brave to follow me.”
Watts purred. “You’re my hero. Good thing we live in Florida. At least, we’ll always be warm.”
Watts lay down and dozed off. I watched Watts sleep, keeping a vigilant eye out for anyone or anything that might hurt us. No one came by our hiding place. Early the next morning, Watts and I headed for the dumpster. That’s when we found poor Robby.
I jumped in, even with the bad smell. I moved some papers and cans aside before meowing as loud as I could.
“It’s Robby! He’s dead. Murdered!”
“Robby? Dead in the dumpster? Why? I can’t imagine who would harm him. He always treated all of us animals with such care and love.”
Watts jumped to the edge.
“Don’t look down. It’s too upsetting. Don’t try to come down here, either. The whole thing makes me sick.”
I could hear Watts crying through his purrs. “Robby is the one who named us. We were always sniffing and pawing at things. He said we’re like the famous detectives Shurlock and Wattson and wrote our names on our sign. Poor guy…he was smart, but never got to finish junior high. I heard him tell Amy it was because his Dad left home and he had to go to work. That’s when he started at the shelter. Everyone loved him.”
Watts started to cry again. I can’t lie. Tears were flowing through my fur, as well. I tried to remain stoic.
“We can’t just leave him here. We have to get someone’s attention without calling out ourselves.”
“How, Shurlock?”
“I’m thinking. Wait, I’ve got it. There’s that stray German Shepherd named Bruiser not too far from our hideout. Let’s go rattle his cage just enough for him to bark and chase us here. If we can keep him barking near the dumpster until someone comes to work, we might have a shot. In the meantime, before I come out, I’ll uncover Robby so the next person who dumps anything will see him—unless he’s the killer, that is.”
“Great plan, providing the dog doesn’t get us first. He must be one mean dude to have a name like Bruiser.”
“Used to work protection for some old guy who had mob ties, or so I heard.”
I stayed down in the dumpster with the sad task of uncovering Robby. I was as gentle with him as he was with me. I paused for a moment of prayer before telling him, “We’re gonna find out who did this to you, Robby. I give you my word.”
I jumped out to find Watts on the ground, sobbing.
“Okay. Let’s go. Don’t think about anything else except finding Robby’s killer. Got that?”
“Got it.”
We left just before the shelter opened to go to the dog camp and find that Shepherd.
CHAPTER TWO
Watts and I tiptoed around before we came to a group of dogs. No Shepherd in the mix. We looked at some more dogs hiding in the bushes and walked around until Bruiser came out of his lair looking as strong and foreboding as ever.
“Okay. Ready. On three, let’s run by him. One…two…three!”
I went first. Watts followed not too far behind. That Shepherd came after us like lightning, but we were faster. He chased us all the way back to the dumpster. We jumped up on a nearby bush as he continued to bark at us.
Someone heard him and opened the side door to the shelter. It was Amy. She yelled back, “Thought I heard a dog bark. I’ll bring the trash out and check.”
I meowed. “Quick, Bruiser. Hide!”
The dog looked puzzled, but when he saw the door open, he moved in our direction and crouched down in some bushes below us.
“Thanks for the chase, Bruiser. We’re trying to help a good friend.”
Bruiser tilted his head in confusion. He growled.
“How does my chasing you help a friend?”
“We think someone murdered him and dumped his body in the dumpster. He was a kind human who took good care of us. We needed to call attention to the dumpster so someone would find his body.”
“How do you two geniuses know he was murdered?”
I looked at him.
“Seriously? And people say you Shepherds are so smart. Who would commit suicide in a dumpster?”
“Maybe he got sick and fell in. Maybe he was so depressed he didn’t want anyone to find him. You know we dogs hide when we are very sick.”
“Well, that’s not what humans do. Besides, he was never depressed. He was happy spending his days with us animals.”
“Sounds like a great guy. Wait, I smell someone coming out. Look, she’s carrying a bag of garbage.”
Amy carried the bag to the dumpster. It was overloaded and heavy. She looked inside to make sure there was enough room before letting out the most blood curdling scream.
“Help! Someone help! Robby’s in the dumpster! He looks dead! Hurry…he’s not breathing!”
Three more shelter workers including the manager poured out the side door. The manager looked in the dumpster before dialing her cell.
“911. This is an emergency. We have an employee unconscious in the dumpster. He looks dead, but I’m not sure. Please, send help ASAP.”
The three of us watched from just far enough away not to be caught. Amy started to cry. The manager held her arm to calm her down
Bruiser saw tears in Watts's eyes. “Don’t worry, my new little buddy. If I catch who did this to your friend, I’ll bite his leg off.”
Looked like Bruiser had a soft spot—if you wanted to call it that.
The paramedics arrived and we watched as one got in the dumpster to check for vital signs.
“Sorry, ma’am. He’s been dead about ten hours.” He looked at his watch. “It’s eight a.m., so that would be around ten p.m. last night. We’ll know better when the ME arrives. We can’t move him until we get the ME’s okay.”
We heard another vehicle and a cruiser pull up right after he said that. The cars came to a screeching halt as a deputy and a young man in a white coat got out, respectively.
The young man told the paramedics, “We heard the 911 call and followed when the caller said she didn’t know if he was dead. Let me go in and examine the body before you move him.”
The ME removed a ladder from the top of his SUV and climbed up to jump in the dumpster. We couldn’t see him, but could hear him.
“Odd…no signs of a struggle. Maybe a heart attack or an overdose, but I’ll know more when I get him back to the morgue. All right, boys, you can move him—but be careful. Such a shame. He was too young to have this happen.”
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