The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

  I sucked in a deep breath, knowing this wasn’t going to go over very well. “Okay. There was a man in my car with a gun after work.”

  His eyes widened. He shifted to better face me. “What? Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “Dead serious.”

  Bad choice of words.

  He reached across the back of the couch until his hand found my neck. He massaged the tight muscles there. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.” A little shaken up might be an exaggeration. I’d almost gotten into two accidents on the way home. I couldn’t shake the feeling of having the gun to my side.

  “What happened?”

  The whole incident flashed back and I shuddered. “He told me I had to have some kind of information to him by Friday.”

  “He didn’t say what information?”

  I shook my head. I’d gone over this a million times in my mind but had come up with nothing. “Nope. I only know it has something to do with Sage.”

  “Maybe he thought you had information that could implicate him in Sage’s death. Maybe someone thinks you know more than you do.”

  I chewed on my lower lip for a minute. “You’re right. That’s the only conclusion I can draw also. The problem is, I don’t have any of her information.”

  “Why would someone think you did have it?”

  “That’s another great question. I don’t know. It’s not like we were close friends. At best, we were acquaintances.” I shrugged. The morbid bottom line remained, though. I frowned as my gaze met Chad’s. “He said he’d kill my cats if I didn’t get the information.”

  Chad’s forehead wrinkled with worry. “He’d kill your cats? It sounds like it could be someone who knows you well enough to know you love your cats.”

  I’d thought that exact same thing. The thought wasn’t comforting. The man had threatened me not to call the police, told me to close my eyes, and then he’d slipped out of my car. I’d opened my eyes five seconds later, but he was gone. I assumed he’d disappeared into the woods behind the property where the Paws and Fur Balls’ office was located.

  “You’ve got to go to the police, Sierra.”

  The police? Certainly Chad did realize what the implications would be if I did that. “No, I have to find this information. For my cats’ sake.”

  I made a gun with my fingers and pulled the trigger. I knew it was silly. I knew my cats wouldn’t understand my words. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to voice the thought.

  Chad removed his hand from my neck and rubbed his soul patch, just like he always did when he was deep in thought. “How do you plan on finding that information?”

  If only I had the answer to that question. But I didn’t. “I have no idea. But I’ll figure out a way. I always do.”

  Chad leaned closer. I’d never seen him look so serious. “Sierra, I think this is a bad, bad idea. You’re putting yourself in danger.”

  I didn’t care about danger to me. I cared about the danger to my cats. Just the thought of something happening to them made my blood pressure go through the roof. “What else am I supposed to do? Let my cats die?”

  “No, but certainly there’s a way to keep them safe and to keep you safe. Maybe the police can help you to figure that out.”

  “I’m not putting my cats on the line.” I crossed my arms. I had to show Chad I was serious here. The last thing I needed was for him to be some kind of Lone Ranger and call the police on my behalf. I didn’t need any noble gestures like that.

  “I’m not suggesting that you put your cats on the line. I’m suggesting that maybe there’s a compromise here.” He reached for me but Mr. Mouser swatted at him again. Chad frowned. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Sierra.”

  I didn’t want anything to happen to me, either. Someone had to be around to take care of my furry friends. But there were certain risks that came with my job. Apparently, this was one of them. “This is what I do, Chad. I protect animals.”

  “What about you? Who’s going to protect you from danger? Maybe I should call the police for you.”

  Ah ha! I knew he’d consider doing that. Anger began simmering inside me. I wasn’t sure where it came from, but the very idea that I couldn’t watch out for myself ignited something in me.

  “I don’t need someone to protect me! I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions.” My voice started out even but gradually escalated until it was full on blazing with emotion. It wasn’t quite as high-pitched as a peacock, but it was getting there.

  I told Chad about the man in the car because I trusted him. But now he was trying to tell me what to do. That wasn’t cool.

  “I know that, Sierra. I know you’re very independent. I’m just worried.”

  Something about the way he said the words brought back visions of my parents and their constant disapproval. I took a deep breath, trying to douse the fire inside me. “Maybe you don’t know that. It seems like it’s okay for you to put yourself in danger. But I’m trying to stand up for something I believe in and suddenly it’s a bad idea.”

  He shook his head, his eyes dazed. “What are you talking about? When do I put myself in danger?”

  Did I really have to spell it out for him? “I don’t see you worrying about yourself when you’re out there surfing. A shark could eat you, you know. Or you could drown. So many things could go wrong.”

  “It’s different—”

  “No, it’s not. I think you’re being two-faced.” I snapped my jaw shut. Where had that come from? My words had surprised me.

  Chad stared at me a moment, and his mouth dropped open. “You really think that?”

  I kept my chin up. I had to let him know I was serious. The police couldn’t be brought into this. “I think you don’t understand how important it is that I keep my cats safe. Going to the police is like issuing a death warrant for them. I can’t do that. I thought you understood that about me.”

  “I thought you knew me better than to think I would do that!”

  What? He wasn’t making sense! “Animals are my passion. I’ve dedicated my life to studying them and fighting for them.”

  Rupert had even said so. He’d said we were cut from the same cloth. Then I remembered that Rupert was single and married to his career.

  “Even at the risk of your safety?”

  I gave a noncommittal shrug. “There’s no other way.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that.” Chad stood and ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he shook his head, his jaw firm and rigid.

  A pit formed in my stomach, and I knew this wasn’t good. This was the first time we’d ever really fought, and I hated it already.

  “I feel like there’s nothing else I can say.” Chad’s gaze connected with mine, almost like he wanted me to blurt something that would make this all better.

  I stood there speechless, the definition of a “deer caught in the headlights” of an oncoming break up. I didn’t want our night to end this way. But I had to stand my ground. That meant I was on my own.

  He dragged his gaze up to the ceiling then back down to me. “I see. I’m going to get going. Maybe some sleep will do both of us good.”

  “Chad . . .” This was ridiculous. The situation was spiraling out of control, and I didn’t know how to fix it. At least, I didn’t know how to be true to myself and everything I’d worked toward, while also appeasing Chad.

  He paused again, but I didn’t know what to say. He stared at me another moment, and I felt like something unspoken was being ascertained by Chad.

  Finally, he shook his head, looking dumbfounded, and threw the front door open. Before he stepped outside, he called over his shoulder in an eerily still voice, “Lock up tonight. Please.”

  I stared at my boyfriend’s back as he disappeared from sight. The beads I had over the front door frame clacked in the wake of his departure.

  I pulled Mr. Mouser into a hug and stroked his head. What had just happened?

 
I understood the cat’s pain. He’d lost someone he loved. I had a feeling I just had, too.

  I couldn’t be sure, but all indicators were that Chad and I had just come to an impasse. We’d broken up.

  Chapter Four

  My heart seemed to toss back and forth in perfect cadence with me as I physically flung myself from one side of the bed to the other in a futile effort to sleep.

  Usually, the things that kept me awake at night were when I had an important animals rights event coming up. Or when my mind wouldn’t leave the horrible facts surrounding an atrocity toward a creature. Or when a brilliant plan formed in the depths of my imagination about how I could open people’s eyes to just how cruel and selfish they were concerning animals.

  Sometimes, I even lay in bed at night thinking about the book I’d always wanted to write called Stupid People.

  Those thoughts always got my adrenaline pumping and my mind racing with possibilities.

  But right now, I continued to replay my conversation with Chad. How had things gone south so quickly? I still didn’t get it. One minute, everything felt normal. The next minute, it was like someone opened all the cages at the zoo and chaos had broken out. It was crazy.

  I hadn’t even had the chance to tell Chad about Rupert’s offer to let me take over as Executive Director at Paws and Fur Balls. Maybe I should just follow Rupert’s example and let myself become so busy with my work that relationships were just a fleeting thought.

  Why did the idea of that make a rock form in my stomach? Probably because, more than anything, I wanted my life to take a different path than my parents had. They’d been all about their careers. I’d vowed not to follow their example.

  Funny, I hadn’t even thought about those lonely days of my childhood for a long time. Something about Mr. Mouser had roused the memory from my subconscious. I’d practically been an only child since my siblings were so much older. The only time my parents gave me any attention or showed any type of approval toward me was when my performance matched up with their expectations for me. That’s why I’d pushed myself to be an overachiever.

  I’d excelled academically and been valedictorian of my class. I’d played bassoon—first chair and made it into a national youth symphony that toured for a summer. I’d been a model student, even getting in my community service hours—at a local hospital, as per my parents’ request.

  But, all the while, my real passion brewed in my mind. Animals. As you might imagine, this was not the path my parents had chosen for me. Not my dad, a leading oncologist who served on several national boards. Not my mom, a noted pediatrician who was applauded throughout the community for the time she gave to other children. No one knew that she treated other kids with more time and affection than she treated her own daughter.

  My sister had become a veterinarian. It wasn’t my parent’s ideal choice for her, but it sufficed. My brother was a cosmetic surgeon living in New York. Again, my parents would have preferred something a little less flashy.

  Then there was me.

  An animal rights activist.

  Maybe that’s why I felt so defeated right now when I thought of Chad. I’d thought he’d loved me for me. But maybe he was just like my parents. Maybe Chad only loved me for who he wanted me to be. He wanted too much control in my life, and that was the very thing I’d always rebelled against.

  Just then, from the living room, I heard a slight rustling. Great, was one of the cats destroying a pillow or something? I reached beside me, expecting to find Mr. Mouser. He’d cuddled up beside me and fallen asleep, but now he was gone.

  Strange. That cat hadn’t left my side since I’d gotten back to my apartment. Maybe the feline had snuck off to get into some trouble.

  I was tempted to ignore the sound and just deal with whatever mess had been made in the morning. Then I thought about Mr. Mouser eating the wrong thing, getting sick, and me lying here and doing nothing about it.

  With a sigh, I threw the covers off, shoved my glasses on, and swung my legs out of bed. With bleary eyes, I shuffled from my bedroom.

  When I walked into the living room, I fully expected to see puffs of cotton or material shredded all over the floor. I thought I might even see my wooden incense holder chewed into pieces or the back of my couch grated and torn.

  I paused in the doorway, trying to let things come into focus.

  When they finally did, I gasped and shrank back.

  There was a man in my living room. Dressed in black. With a ski mask on his face.

  The man squatted on the floor, freezing from whatever he was doing, and staring at me.

  My eyes fastened on the knife in his hands, wondering if he’d lunge toward me. Wondering if this was how my life would come to an end.

  The stare off lingered on and on, each second wrought with tension. I should totally do something, I realized. I just had no idea what.

  Instead, I started talking. I had been a debate champion, after all. Maybe I could utilize some of those skills now. Assert my point. Employ reasoning. Offer evidence.

  “I have nothing,” I started.

  He remained frozen.

  “No jewelry.”

  He said nothing.

  “I’m broke.”

  He continued to stare.

  “There’s nothing here that could possibly be worth going to jail over. See for yourself.”

  Nothing from him.

  Okay, I’d had enough of this. I had to take action. My gaze scanned the room until I spotted my phone on the dining table. Probably six feet away. I just needed to grab it.

  Suddenly, the man jostled back into action. He grabbed a black bag from beside him and darted out my front door faster than I could say, “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  I’d always imagined myself tougher, not the shrinking type. But I’d definitely frozen when I’d seen the man in my apartment. I’d been unable to move for several minutes after he left, even with the phone in my hand. I’d finally realized I needed to call the police. Yes, the police. But I wouldn’t mention the mysterious man in my car or the information he requested. Besides, I was calling 911 of my own accord and not because someone else had insisted. There was a difference.

  One detective, two officers, and one CSI guy were here now. I had been smart enough to know not to touch anything. They’d taken my statement and now a CSI guy was taking pictures and searching for fingerprints.

  “Any idea who the intruder was?” Detective Adams asked. I’d had several encounters with him in the past, thanks to my friend Gabby. He was a middle-aged man of average height with a small soft spot beginning in his belly. He’d always seemed rational and well thought out when I’d met him in the past, which made him okay in my book.

  I shook my head. “No idea.”

  “Anything else you can remember?”

  “There is the small detail I should mention that I found a dead body today. You know, just in case that’s somehow tied in to this.”

  The detective stared at me. Why did people always do that?

  I filled him in. I lived in Norfolk. The city where I’d found the body was the neighboring suburb of Chesapeake, so the detectives here weren’t in the loop.

  After Detective Adams got my statement, he paused for a moment. “We’ll see what we can do. How’s Gabby?”

  I remembered my promise to her that I’d keep my mouth shut about her job situation. She hadn’t even told her fiancé yet that she’d lost her job with the Medical Examiner and was back to crime scene cleaning.

  “Good,” I said instead. “She’s on vacation.”

  “Hopefully staying out of trouble. I see you’ve picked up where she left off.”

  I shrugged. “What can I say?”

  “Be safe, Sierra.”

  Finally, they left. That’s when I realized I still hadn’t seen Mr. Mouser. Most of my other cats had come out and brushed against the officers’ legs. Mr. Mouser . . . while he wasn’t the most friendly cat, per se, where was he?

&nb
sp; I looked in every room until I finally found him up high in a shelf in my closet.

  I pulled him down and cradled him in my arms. “You knew that man was trouble, didn’t you?”

  He purred in response.

  Didn’t the officer at Sage’s house say he’d found the cat in the closet, as well? Interesting. He must feel safe there.

  As I cradled Mr. Mouser closer, I paused for a moment, contemplating calling Chad and telling him what had happened. Finally, I decided not to. Because he would probably bring this around to an argument about my cats and me choosing their safety over my own. I didn’t want to add that stress to the stress I was already feeling. Besides, I wasn’t sure where our relationship stood. That realization made a lump form in my throat.

  I glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 a.m., and I was wide-awake.

  I wasn’t one to normally snoop unless Gabby initiated it or it involved animals. But since sleep wasn’t even on my radar, I went over to my computer and booted it up. I sat back and waited. My computer was so terribly slow. I needed to upgrade, but I couldn’t do that until my salary was upgraded. So, instead, I waited and let my thoughts go wherever they wanted.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence that someone had broken into my apartment on the very day I’d found Sage’s body, right? The man in my car had made that much clear. But why? What sense did all of this make?

  Maybe the intruder had been looking for the video that Chad had taken today. Was there some sort of evidence on the recording that we’d missed? The police had taken a copy, but we still had the original. They’d asked us not to release it to the media, and we’d agreed.

  Chad and I had watched the news tonight before our fight, and the station had announced that a woman had been found in the Great Dismal Swamp. Sage’s name hadn’t been released to the news outlets yet—I assumed they were still trying to inform her next of kin and other relatives.

  I turned my thoughts back to Sage. That police officer at her apartment had said that Sage Williams wasn’t my coworker’s real name. Despite that, as soon as my Internet came up, I typed her name into the search engine. Sure enough, nothing came up. No social media sites, no past articles on her animal rights efforts, no wedding or award announcements.