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

by Christy Barritt

  “But at least I can see them here.” The thought of being far away from my cats pained me, causing a physical jolt through my heart. “Besides, who do I know out of state?”

  “You won’t be able to see them at all if something happens to them.” He shrugged. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but how about your parents?”

  Indignation rushed through me, along with outrage, disgust, and mortification. “My parents? Are you crazy?”

  “Sierra—”

  My mind was already racing, along with my emotions. “My cats will be little orphans in that house by themselves with no one to care for them! I might as well set them out to roam the streets and fend for themselves. Plus, that would require talking to my parents.”

  “Sierra—”

  “My cats are like my children.” The words continued gushing out. Bringing up my parents had ignited something in me, some kind of protectiveness. I didn’t want anyone else—human or feline—to experience the kind of upbringing I had. “What kind of person would I be if I sent them away? Besides, I don’t think these threats have anything to do with my cats except for the fact that they’re using them as a bargaining chip. If my cats weren’t in the picture, they’d probably just go straight for my jugular.”

  “Sierra, I didn’t mean it like—”

  I stood before I got any more emotional. We hadn’t mended any fences at all, had we? I kept picturing my cats with my parents and my emotional train wasn’t just derailing, it was imploding. “You know what? I can’t talk anymore.”

  “But—” Chad reached for me, then let his arms drop to his side.

  I wasn’t sure which option he’d raised was worse: the police or my parents. But both suggestions had freaked me out, pulled me away from any of the thought out logic I prided myself in. “I should go. As soon as I can find a safer place for my cats, I’ll take them off your hands. I’m sorry to put you out of your way.”

  Before he could say anything else, I left.

  I successfully managed to make it to my car before I started crying.

  Chapter Eight

  I stayed in Gabby’s apartment for the night. She’d given me a spare key, and it seemed safer to stay there than my own place. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any sleep.

  As I’d lain in bed, my thoughts haunted me. Thoughts of Chad. Thoughts of my cats. Thoughts of the mysterious “information” the man had requested.

  What was this information? Where would I find it?

  When I’d woken up, I had a plan. Perhaps not a good plan, but a plan nonetheless.

  I hadn’t wanted to get involved in all of this. Really, I hadn’t. And I had no experience tracking down criminals—other than puppy mill owners—but I figured I knew enough about cats and their methods of hunting for prey that I could utilize some of their skills.

  Cats were programmed from birth to chase, born with an instinct for hunting. They honed those skills at a young age through playing. Cats learned to gage distance by pouncing. They learned to adjust their speed to the speed of moving objects. They learned to be patient, to wait until just the right moment to reveal themselves. They learned to watch the objects of their mealtime affections and observe their movements, their patterns, their way of doing things.

  I was going to have to utilize some of those very skills. I’d watch. I’d wait. Then I’d pounce.

  I went into work early the next morning and arrived before anyone else got there. I went to Sage’s desk and rifled through her things. I knew most of her stuff here was work related. A couple of grants, some project ideas, etc.

  I found what I was looking for beneath the plastic sectioned organizer in her small drawer. It was a key.

  I’d once overheard Sage saying she put it here. There were advantages to having a small office space and little privacy at the workplace. Tidbits like that, for example.

  I grabbed the key now, left a note for Bryan telling him I was working on the puppy mill exposé, and then slipped out. The puppy mill excuse wasn’t quite the truth, but maybe while I was out I would try to work on that story. I put in enough extra hours—unpaid, at that—that I could miss a couple of hours without feeling guilty.

  I went back to Sage’s apartment complex and sat outside. Just as I hoped, I saw Thyme leave thirty minutes later. I remembered her saying she had to make funeral arrangements today. I didn’t want to capitalize on her loss, but the time was now to look for whatever it was I needed to save my cats.

  My cats were like my children. I would do anything for them. Even this.

  Before I got out of my car, my phone rang. I looked down at the number on the screen and scowled. It was Chad. I almost ignored it, figuring he’d have some other absurd idea on how I should run my life. But then I remembered he had my cats. I had to make sure they were okay.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Hey, Sierra.” I could tell by his voice that he was being cautious and restrained.

  “What’s going on?” I would keep myself aloof until I heard what he had to say.

  “I thought you’d want to know that your cat cried all night for you.”

  Sadness pressed in on me. “What?”

  “Mr. Mouser. He let out the saddest sound I’ve ever heard for half of the night. I didn’t know cats could sound like that.”

  “What happened the other half of the night?”

  “He gave up on thinking you were coming for him, so he shredded my couch instead.”

  A rock formed in my stomach. “Really?”

  “This Mr. Mouser is a bit of a feline terrorist. I know it’s not what you want to hear. He’s kind of scary, though.”

  “Not scary. He’s just scared.” I had to force the words out. “I’ll pay you back for your couch.”

  I wasn’t sure how, but I would. Somehow. Someway. If it was the last thing I did. A headache began pounding at the back of my head.

  “Listen, I’m not all that worried about my couch. But I am exhausted from not getting any sleep. Have you thought about boarding the cats at a local kennel? I know it’s expensive, but I can help with the costs. I just can’t have another night like last night.”

  “Chad—” How could I convince him that was a terrible, terrible idea? Why? Because they’d be in a cage all afternoon without hardly any attention. They’d be without me. They’d feel lost and alone and abandoned.

  Kind of like I felt as a child.

  “Yes?” Chad finally said.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I finally answered.

  I knew Chad had a lot riding on him this week with Gabby being out of town. His job was physically demanding, and he needed his sleep.

  Still, I wished Chad could bear with the cats for just a few more days. Part of me thought Chad just wanted to make me realize that in order to keep me safe, the cats needed to be far away. The other part of me thought this was some kind of power struggle, and he secretly wanted me to choose between him and my cats. How could I have ever thought I had a future with this man? My emotions had steered me in a totally incorrect direction, and now my heart had to deal with the aftermath.

  “Just to let you know, I’m locking Mr. Mouser in the bathroom—if I can grab him without having him take my hands off. I’m convinced he’s part lion. A better name for him might be Mr. I’ll-Kill-Anyone-Within-One-Foot-of-Me. There’s nothing mousy about him.”

  Alarm spread through me. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Chad sighed. “You know me better than that, Sierra. Have I ever hurt an animal?”

  “Lately, I’m just thinking I don’t know you at all! I thought you liked me—all of me—just as I am.”

  Now why had I said that? I did know Chad better than that. He was kind. I’d always felt safe with him. When things were good between us, he made me feel like I could win wars.

  “Sierra, I do like you for you.”

  “If you’re even thinking of putting my cats in danger, then you don’t get me. I’m sorry, Chad, but I have to do this. I will t
ry to find a better place for my cats, and I’ll pay you back for your couch.”

  Right now, my time was ticking away. I had to get inside that apartment. I had to admit I desperately wanted to end this conversation, as well.

  “I’ve got to go.” With that, I hit the END button.

  My heart felt heavier and heavier with each conversation Chad and I had. It was like watching a beautiful sandcastle crumble in a storm and knowing you couldn’t save it. Or even worse—you could save it, but you knew allowing it to crumble was for the best.

  I climbed from my car and walked down the sidewalk like I knew what I was doing, keeping my head high and my steps even. As I got closer to Sage’s door, I reached into my pocket and pulled the key out. I checked quickly to make sure no one else was around before sliding the key into the lock and slipping inside my friend’s apartment.

  I’d never done something like this before, and my heart was racing. If I were caught, I’d be in so much trouble. That wouldn’t be a good thing. I mean, it was one thing to get arrested at a protest for animals. I might even be okay with being charged with breaking and entering at an animal testing facility. But not for breaking into someone’s home. That was just creepy.

  I had to work quickly.

  I stared at the space around me. It wasn’t anything fancy. In front of me was a great room with a breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living area. The apartment was light and airy with sunlit carpet and monotone white and beige decorations.

  Moving fast, I crossed the room to the desk I saw on the opposite side. This would be a great place to start, I figured.

  Just as I began looking through the files on top, my hand accidentally hit the crystal vase there. It started falling to the floor. I tried to grab it. But it was too late. The vase hit the side of the desk and shattered.

  Red drops hit the carpet. I was bleeding.

  My blood was on the white carpet.

  Panic filled me. I had to get that up. Now.

  The last thing I needed was for my DNA to be found here. For all I knew, my DNA was already on file in some kind of criminal database due to the bombing several months ago where I was the prime suspect. Thankfully, I’d been cleared and the real culprit had been arrested. Still, I wouldn’t put it past the feds to have collected some of the hair from my brush in order to match me with evidence at the scene.

  And I’d been the one to find Sage’s body.

  This wasn’t going to look good.

  Quickly, I grabbed some paper towels, wet them with warm water, and began blotting the spot. Only part of the blood came up. I could still see some spots.

  I went to the bathroom, rummaged around until I found some ammonia, and then poured some of that onto the carpet.

  I could still see red.

  What was I going to do?

  I pulled out my cell phone and called Gabby. She’d know how to get the blood up.

  So would Chad for that matter, but I wasn’t speaking to him at the moment.

  I really hoped she would answer. And she did. Hearing my friend’s voice brought me a surprising joy. “Gabby! You answered! What’s going on?”

  “I’m just sitting here, wearing this fancy fur coat at this luxurious resort. They’re giving furs out because, you know, everyone here is rich and all. Maybe you should come and stop them.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny.” I paused, considering for a moment the fact that she might not be joking. “But if anything of that sort happens, let me know. I’ll be right there.”

  “I don’t doubt it. How are you and Chad doing?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I insisted. I picked up a few more pieces of the vase and stuffed them into the first place I could find—my purse. Already, in the back of my mind, I knew this was a bad idea.

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  I sighed, realizing I was bleeding again. I grabbed some more paper towels—I’d brought the entire roll over at this point—and wrapped them around my hand. “We had this huge fight. I really don’t want to get into it over the phone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I had to concentrate on the task at hand. “Quick question before I forget. What’s the best way to get blood out of carpet?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately.” I stared at the blood on the carpet. Another drop dripped onto the floor. I had to treat my cut. It was deeper than I wanted to admit.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “I’m fine. I’m just doing a little . . . undercover work. Puppy mill stuff.” Oh no. Another little white lie. But I didn’t want Gabby to worry. She deserved to have some fun. “But the blood is human, not dog, so don’t get sad or anything. I’d ask Chad but I’m not speaking to him right now.”

  “Okay . . . is the blood dry or fresh?”

  Another drop escaped my makeshift bandage and landed on the carpet. I frowned. “Definitely fresh.”

  “Use cold water. Mix some hand soap with some water and blot it.”

  “I tried that already.”

  “You can use some ammonia.”

  “Tried that, too.”

  “Why don’t you just go to my apartment and grab some of my cleaning solution?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Thanks!”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Chad’s alive, right?”

  “Very funny. He’s fine. I’ll fill you in when you get back. Anyway, how about you? How’s it going at Allendale Acres? You and Riley been practicing that scene with the song ‘Love Is Strange’?” I stuffed some more dirty paper towels in my purse and then grabbed a handful of clean ones so I could continue to blot.

  “No ‘Love Is Strange’ reenactments.” Gabby filled me in on a missing person there at the resort where she was staying.

  I sighed. “Oh, Gabby. It’s no mystery that these kind of capers find you.”

  “Tell me about it. There’s this small problem that Riley asked me not to get involved.”

  Why did I feel like I could relate to that all too well right now? Hearing Gabby talk caused a well of emotions to rise up in me. Mostly anger at Chad. Maybe at men in general.

  I took a break from getting the blood up, waiting a moment to see if more blood would tinge the carpet as the liquid dried. Instead, I looked through some more papers on Sage’s desk as we talked. I knew my time was limited, and that I should keep this conversation short and sweet. Still, it felt really good to talk to my best friend.

  “Oh, no. Does he know that you can’t help yourself?” I saw a whole bunch of papers and receipts that didn’t help me one bit. Was all of this searching in vain? I could go to jail for this! For an animal, I might make the sacrifice. That’s what I had to remember. My cats were worth this.

  “No, not yet. He’s been distracted with his conference.”

  “You’ve got to tell him. You know that, right? For that matter, I think you should tell him that it is highly insensitive of him to even ask you not to snoop.” Men, I mentally snorted. They all wanted you to change.

  “Insensitive?”

  “It’s like asking you not to be you.” Just like Chad was asking me not to be myself when it came to my cats. Loser. My feline friends never asked me to change. That was just one more reason they were so great.

  “I thought you liked Riley.”

  “I love Riley. And you two together are like Sonny and Cher.” It was true. They were perfect.

  “They got divorced.”

  Who else could I compare them to? “Okay, how about Romeo and Juliet.”

  “They died.”

  “Fred and Wilma Flintstone?” Lame, Sierra. “Anyway, I think you’re perfect together. But you shouldn’t have to try and be someone you’re not.” Again, just like Chad and my cats.

  “It’s called compromise. And it’s just for a week.”

  I had to snap out of it. I was in a terrible mood. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m just in a rotten mood, and I’ve
got to get the blood out of the carpet.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes. Then I realized I had to hurry through the rest of this conversation. I had a mission. We said goodbye, and a new sense of urgency filled me. I had to get this blood cleaned up. I squatted on the floor, trying to dab up more evidence that I’d been here.

  I ran into the kitchen, searched for some bleach, and then dropped some onto the floor. The blood started to disappear. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get back here again to do a better job. I had to be careful, though. The smell of the bleach was strong. If I used too much, it would be a sure sign I’d been here.

  As I squatted on the floor, I spotted something on the bottom of the desk. I paused for a moment and stared at the triangle of paper that stuck out from behind some drawers.

  I reached forward and pulled the paper out.

  It was an email that had been printed out. And maybe it was my first real clue in my search for a way to save Freckles.

  Chapter Nine

  The email was from someone named Tom. He said he was going to be in town—I double-checked the date—this week, and he asked if he could meet Sage, despite everything that had happened in the past. Better yet . . . they were supposed to meet today at a hotel down at the beach.

  Who exactly was Tom? Why had he emailed Sage? It had been important enough that she’d printed out his email. In my experience, you only printed emails if you had a good reason.

  The CSI techs had been out here, but somehow they’d missed this paper. Probably because it had slipped out the back of the drawer and into the recess space behind it. I would have missed it if I hadn’t been squatting on the floor like this.

  I peered up at the desk and saw a couple of other things sticking out. This was obviously the police’s loss but my gain. Gently, I prodded the papers down. The first was a Post-it note with the name Eileen and a phone number. Interesting.