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

by Christy Barritt

  He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “My help? Please then, by all means, continue.” There was a hint of teasing to his voice.

  He was driving me mad. Didn’t he know that what I really wanted was for him to pull me into a hug and tell me that everything would be okay? That I wanted someone to love me for all of me—bad decisions and all? Didn’t he know that I couldn’t imagine my life without him?

  Apparently not, because he continued to stare and wait.

  “Someone broke into my apartment last night,” I started.

  His arms loosened and concern spread over his face. “What?”

  I nodded. “I’m not sure what he was looking for. He ran away.”

  “Wow. Are you okay?”

  I raised my hand, just in case he decided to try and comfort me. No, he’d had his chance. That moment had passed. “I suppose I’m okay.”

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  The concern in his voice nearly broke me. “No. He just stared at me, grabbed his bag, and left.”

  “His bag? Did he take something?”

  I shook my head. “Not that I know of. I couldn’t find anything missing.”

  Chad stepped closer. “Have you turned into Gabby in her absence?”

  “It would seem so, now wouldn’t it?” I shrugged and frowned. “Anyway, I did call the police about the break in. It only seemed right.”

  “Did you tell them about the threat?”

  I pretended like I didn’t see the satisfaction in his eyes. “I didn’t. But, at least they know something now.”

  “Good for you. I’m proud of you for reporting the break in.”

  Irritation pinched my neck. He thought I’d finally given in and seen things his way. The fact was I had no intentions of putting my cats in harm’s way. Still, acting hostile wouldn’t win me any points right now.

  “What can I do?”

  I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t ask. But I asked anyway, “Since you essentially offered: Can I bring my cats over here?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Since I ‘essentially offered’?” He used air quotes.

  I hated it when Chad used air quotes. We hadn’t moved past his entryway, and I had little hopes that we would. I was standing in the area normally reserved for salesmen and transactions with people buying things from online classified ads.

  “You’re serious?” Chad stared at me.

  “Of course I’m serious.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “They’re in danger.”

  Chad’s shoulders looked even tighter. “Are you sure you don’t want to come clean to the police about all of this?”

  I locked my jaw for a moment. “I can’t. I need to handle this myself.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, leaving his sun-bleached highlights standing on end. “Sierra, you know I love you. But for someone who prides herself in being logical, you’re not using much common sense right now.”

  All my winning arguments seemed to be losing at the moment. Where was all of that great debate skill when I needed it? Besides, Chad had just said he loved me. Was that a slip? Or did he mean it?

  It didn’t matter right now. “Come on, Chad. I just need your help. Just this once.”

  His jaw was set in a firm lock and his normal laid-back surfer attitude seemed to be long gone as he stared into space, saying nothing.

  “Believe me, I’d only ask if I were desperate, and I’m desperate now.”

  He turned and looked behind him at his apartment, as if formulating an answer. “You know I’m not supposed to have cats in my building. If my landlord finds out . . .”

  “He won’t. They’ll be gone before he even knows they were there.” I hated to beg, especially when there were much more dignified ways of doing things. “Please, Chad, you know they’re like my kids. The thought of something happening to them tears me up inside.”

  Tension stretched tight between us. Chad stared at me. I stared back, keeping my gaze soft.

  Chad’s head wobbled back and forth uncertainly. “I don’t know.”

  “Please,” I croaked.

  His shoulders rose as if tightened. “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s temporary.”

  He didn’t say anything. His body just seemed to get stiffer and stiffer. If it got any more rigid, he might look like he had rigor mortis.

  I decided to forget what was left of my pride. “Please, Chad. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

  He shifted, his shoulders relaxing some. He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and then his tortured gaze fell on me. “Okay, it’s like this. I didn’t want to mention it because I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

  “How I’d react?” That was never a good way to start a conversation. “Okay . . .”

  He grimaced. “The truth is that they’re spraying for termites this week at my apartment.”

  I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. “And?”

  He stared back. “And I thought you might organize a protest outside of my building or something.”

  “A protest?” This conversation wasn’t going where I expected. In fact, I almost wanted to laugh. Then I remembered those poor termites.

  He sighed. “I know how much you love animals—even insects. I thought if I mentioned it you might hold a demonstration.”

  “Spraying for bugs is kind of cruel,” I conceded. Would I have held a demonstration? I might not have, just because it was Chad’s place.

  Who was I kidding? I had bigger fish to fry than people spraying for termites.

  I nearly slapped myself. Bigger fish to fry? My thoughts were getting out of control. Next I’d be fantasizing about ham and cheese omelets or buying a leather jacket.

  I licked my lips. “I promise not to organize anything outside of your building.” Was that really what all of this hemming and hawing was about?

  “Fine,” Chad finally said. “But only for a couple of days. I’ve dealt with this termite guy before. He’ll turn me in if he sees the cats here.”

  Relief filled me in one huge burst. My shoulders slumped and my breath escaped in a quick sigh. “It’s a deal. Thank you. I appreciate this.”

  Chad, on the other hand, didn’t look relieved at all. He looked tenser than ever with that hard jaw and those uptight shoulders. “And, for the record, I don’t think this is the best idea, and it’s not because I’m a chauvinist. It’s because I only want what’s best for you.”

  I started to protest.

  “I’m not sure how much safer the cats are going to be here, for that matter,” Chad continued. “It’s not like I’ll be here all day guarding them.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  He grabbed his keys and stepped outside. “Let’s go.”

  “You’re going with me?” His willingness to go above and beyond floored me.

  “You’re going to need help with all of those cats, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “We’ll take my van.”

  “Thanks, Chad.” We walked silently toward his restored Vanagon and climbed inside. The silence continued as we started down the road. I tried to formulate something brilliant to say, some way to bridge the gaps, to ease the tension, and to make things right without compromising my life’s work.

  I settled for, “I guess you’re still mad.”

  “Maybe. It’s complicated.”

  I crossed my arms, anger growing in me when I realized he wasn’t even trying to mend fences. “Well, I’m still mad, too.”

  “You’re mad?” He looked away from the road long enough to send me an astonished look. “Why are you mad?”

  He really didn’t know why I was mad? He was not that dense. “You don’t understand me. You don’t understand how important it is to me that I keep my cats safe. That’s basic Sierra 101!”

  “That’s not what I said! I said—” He stopped as the emotion in his voice rose to the surface. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. You
just don’t get the position I’m in or know how I feel at the thought of you being in danger.”

  Sure I did. He probably felt the same way about my safety as I thought about the safety of my cats. He should totally understand my worry and realize that I was responsible for protecting my furry friends. When it came to their safety, the buck stopped at me.

  “I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it. You don’t get me.” Why did I ever think he would? We were total opposites. Horrible together. A bad idea.

  Man, I hated fighting with Chad. But I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for not telling the police everything. And he obviously wasn’t going to apologize either. That meant that awkward silence stretched between us as he drove to my apartment.

  Tears almost—almost—pricked my eyes. I fought them with everything in me. I couldn’t let Chad know that he had this much power over me. That would make me weak, and I’d never been weak.

  I’d learned to hold my head up high. Like when I got in trouble from my parents for getting an A minus. Or when I skipped a class in college to help rescue some abandoned horses from near death and my professor scolded me in front of the class. Or when my best friend in high school publicly declared me a freak when I started hanging out with the environmental club and writing articles for the prep school newspaper about animal cruelty.

  That had been the start of my crusade. From there, a new friend had shown me a video of a dairy farm that had terrible living conditions for their animals. I’d found my purpose in life after that.

  I’d started writing letters to my local newspaper. I’d even snuck onto that very farm once and took my own pictures of the cruelty there. Later, I’d organized a boycott. The local news had come out and done a story on me. My passion for standing up for the powerless was born that day.

  It seemed to take forever to reach my place, but finally we did. Neither of us said a word as we walked to my door. I unlocked it, pushed the beads at my doorway aside, and stepped into my living room.

  Mittens, Fluffy, Junior, and Mr. Mouser all came out to greet me. I’d been gone almost all day, and they were ready for dinner. Where was Freckles, though?

  As I collected some food and bowls and a litter box or two, I called for Freckles. She never came. It was very strange. Despite that, I continued to work. I found three cat carriers and managed to get the other four cats into them.

  I almost hated to speak to Chad, but at this point I had little choice. He stood by the door with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He wasn’t pleased to be here. He probably wasn’t pleased to be with me, for that matter. I was determined not to let that fact hurt me.

  “I just need to find Freckles, and we can go,” I explained.

  I looked in closets, under beds, behind the couch, and on top of the fridge. Freckles was nowhere. And Freckles was that cat that always sat in my lap. This was very unusual.

  Or was it?

  Things clicked so quickly in my mind that I wanted to scream like a momma hyena that had returned home to discover her baby was gone.

  My throat burned as I looked up at Chad. “I know what that man took last night when he broke in.”

  “What?” Chad asked.

  “My cat.”

  “This gives a new meaning to ‘catnapping,’” Chad muttered.

  Using the back of my hand, I wiped away a tear that popped out of my eye. “That’s not very sensitive.”

  He stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. I was just trying to lighten the moment.”

  “Well, it didn’t work. I feel worse than ever.”

  He squeezed my arm. “I’m really sorry, Sierra.”

  I nodded, trying to keep myself together. But when Chad pulled me into his arms, I felt my resolve crumbling.

  “What are they doing to Freckles right now? Why would they snatch her? The deadline hasn’t even passed yet.”

  “I don’t know. I have no ideas even, for that matter.”

  I could barely breathe as I thought about my feline friend. I only hoped she was safe, that the no-good scoundrel who’d snatched her would honor his promise. But when did no-good scoundrels ever do that?

  “We should get the rest of the cats out of here.” I stepped back and sucked back the rest of my tears. “The sooner, the better.”

  He picked up a cat carrier. “You got it.”

  I was beside myself as we drove back to Chad’s place. Even Chad didn’t seem to know what to say to cheer me up. Or maybe he feared saying the wrong thing. Either way, he was quiet.

  How could I have missed the fact that Freckles had been taken? What kind of cat person was I? I thought for sure that I’d done a count last night and all of my feline friends were there. I’d been so focused on Mr. Mouser that somehow I’d missed Freckles.

  It was the shock of the break in. That’s what it had to be. The normal me, in my typical state, would have never missed the disappearance of a cat.

  Still, I felt ashamed. Embarrassed. If any of my animal rights friends found out about this . . . I shook my head. I couldn’t stand the thought of it.

  We pulled to a stop in front of his apartment. “Here we are,” Chad started.

  “Yep, here we are.”

  “Sierra—”

  “We should get inside—”

  We both started at the same time. I paused and stared at Chad a moment, hoping he’d continue. Instead, he said, “You’re right. Let’s get them inside before they go stir crazy.”

  I helped him carry the cats into his apartment and then set up the food and water bowls, as well as the litter boxes. I stroked their heads, whispered sweet words of comfort, and silently begged them to be on their best behavior.

  “You want to sit for a minute?” Chad asked when I was done.

  “If you don’t mind. And just for a minute.” I could use a moment to collect myself.

  I lowered myself onto his couch, a piece of furniture I knew well from movie marathons and lots of long talks. Right now, I felt like I was sitting on the couch at a doctor’s office, waiting to receive a life-changing diagnosis.

  Chad sat beside me, looking much more at ease as he leaned back and stretched his arm across the back. “So, what’s going on with Sage?”

  I shrugged. “Beats me. I haven’t heard anything—anything that leads to answers, at least.” Which reminded me . . . “Speaking of which, can I see your phone?”

  “My phone?”

  I nodded. “I want to see the video you were taking when we found her.”

  He reached into his back pocket. “I guess.”

  I took the phone and hit a few buttons until the video popped up. My image came onto the screen. I watched the feed, scrutinized myself as I adjusted my button-up shirt and pushed a hair behind my ear.

  On the screen, I smiled at the camera in all of my pint-sized splendor. Really, I’d smiled at Chad, though. The day had started out so fun before it spiraled into a morbid two-day duet of fighting and thinking about death and kitty killers.

  “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” I muttered on the phone. My voice sounded tinny and canned.

  “Remember that,” Chad had joked in return.

  Shortly after that, the heat and bugs had gotten the best of both of us and we’d begun bickering. The thing was, until we’d found Sage dead, we’d really gotten along pretty well. Things had torpedoed out of control until they’d reached the point they were at today.

  Right now, Chad scooted closer and leaned beside me to better see the video. He smelled like sunscreen and the ocean, and, for once, that thought didn’t make me think of dead fish. It seemed familiar and comforting and . . . all Chad. I often forgot that he used to be a suit-and-tie mortician. He’d discovered that kind of career wasn’t for him, though, and gotten out before the rest of his life passed him by.

  “You look good on video, you know,” he muttered to me.

  My throat tightened, and I simultaneously wished he was sitting closer and farther away. “Th
anks.”

  “You really think there’s something on this recording?”

  I shrugged, forcing myself to look away from his tantalizing gaze. “I have no idea. I just know that someone’s desperate, that they have unfinished work and somehow I’ve been pulled into this.” That thought had me as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  At the edge of the screen, I could see Sage. Of course, at the time I hadn’t realized that it was Sage. Nor had I realized that the awful stench I’d smelled was something other than the stench of the swamp.

  “I just assumed it was drugs that she’d been killed over. A typical wrong place at the wrong time scenario,” Chad muttered.

  I nodded. “Me, too. But too many other things aren’t adding up. There’s obviously more to it. I just don’t know what.”

  Though initially I’d wondered if this video was the information demanded from me, after watching it, I had to disregard that theory. There was nothing incriminating here.

  So someone was searching for some other kind of information. I had no idea what. I only knew the lives of my cats were dependent on me finding it.

  “What else do you know?” Chad asked.

  I told him about what I’d overheard the police officers say about Sage not being her real name, her sister’s revelation that Sage had been married before, and the top secret investigations Sage had been engaged in on work time.

  “Sounds very mysterious,” Chad said.

  “I know, right? I had no desire to get involved. I wanted to mind my own business, and now look at me! Someone broke into my house and into my car. Whether I like it or not, I’m involved.”

  Chad squeezed my hand, and my heart softened a moment. Maybe everything would be okay between us. I desperately wanted things to be back to normal and, for the first time since all of this had happened, I felt hope that might be possible.

  Chad shifted. “Hear me out for a moment. Please. Sierra, I really think that if it’s the cats someone wants, maybe you should hand them over.”

  I sucked in a quick breath and pulled my hand away. “What?”

  “Let me finish.” He raised his hands as if to protect himself from a verbal assault. “Hand them over to someone else who can take care of them for a while. Maybe even someone out of state and far away. It’s only a matter of time before someone realizes that the cats are here.”