Catnapped

by Gabriella Herkert

  “Oh, God.” I hid my face in my hands, using my hair to further shield me from scrutiny.

  “It’s a great story,” Tony offered.

  “Except when you’re living it,” I muttered into my hands. Russ rubbed my back gently.

  “C’mon. Head up. Tell Uncle Russ.”

  I raised my head.

  “We won’t tell anyone. We promise. Don’t we, Tony?”

  Tony’s response was to cross his heart and hold up the Boy Scout salute.

  “He’s driving me crazy,” I confessed.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Russ seemed perplexed. Of course, he thrived on crazy.

  “He tells me what to do. He follows me everywhere I go. Every time I turn around, there he is.”

  “At least the scenery’s good.”

  I glared at Russ.

  “I’d heard the same thing, although I haven’t actually met your husband yet.”

  “Is there anything you won’t tell people? What did you do? Describe his butt on the air?”

  “Can’t. The FCC is very prudish when it comes to that sort of thing.”

  “Don’t worry, Sara. Russ discussed your situation with me only in confidence. It won’t go any further. We doctors are used to keeping things confidential.” His voice and manner reassured me. A quick glance at Russ yielded a confirming nod.

  “I only know you through Russ. And I don’t know Connor at all. I do know that new relationships are hard work. They take some getting used to. Particularly if you haven’t been with anyone in a really, really long time,” Tony suggested helpfully.

  I jabbed my elbow hard into Russ’s side and he winced, using his free hand to rub at his sore ribs.

  “Thank you very much, Rona Barrett.” I glared at Russ.

  “I felt honor-bound to explain my marital situation to Tony,” Russ said slyly. “Explaining a wife later could prove awkward.”

  “Really?” I freed myself from Russ’s arm and got up from the couch to resume pacing.

  “Do you want a drink or something, hon? Something to cool you off maybe?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I moved to the open cabinet where Russ kept his CD collection, idly flipping through the cases. “It’s not just that it’s new. It’s . . . well, Connor’s so into it, y’know? Or he was into it. Now I don’t know what he is.” I straightened the cases, matching them to the edge of the shelf with careful precision.

  “I’m not sure I understand.” Tony said.

  “I don’t think I’m the marriage type.”

  “A little late for second thoughts, don’t you think?” Russ’s contribution was more practical.

  “What do you mean, you’re not the marriage type?” Tony steered the conversation back into a serious vein.

  “I just mean”—I turned and walked to the window, staring across the street at the dance club the Romper Room, where the sunlight glinted off its oversized picture window—“well, he’s good at it. The marriage thing. I don’t agree with him. I am definitely not letting him follow me around everywhere, but part of me sort of likes it. That he worries, I mean. Not worries, exactly . . .”

  “He makes you feel cared for.” For someone who didn’t know either of us, Tony had managed to hit the bottom line with amazing ease.

  “Yeah, I guess. Like I should tell him where I’m going. Then he says something stupid, like I have to tell him, and I just want to deck him.”

  “I’m putting five bucks on you. He’s a Navy SEAL and all that, but I’ve seen you in a mood,” Russ said.

  I turned to look at them. Russ had moved to the arm of Tony’s chair, draping himself casually, one arm slung around Tony’s shoulders.

  “Russ.” Tony shook his head slightly, looking at Russ before returning his attention to me.

  “And just when I start to think maybe I ought to cut him a little slack, he can’t take it.”

  Russ sat straighter. “He can’t take what?”

  “Me, I guess.”

  “You guess? He said that to you?” Russ was standing, his hands clenched at his sides. Tony reached over and took one of his hands, tugging him back into a sitting position and smoothing the fist against his thigh.

  “What did he say?” Tony’s eyes were chocolate soft, his voice soothing.

  I couldn’t remember exactly what Connor had said. Something about he couldn’t take it. But what? I’d been so angry at his dictate I’d nearly missed it. I pushed my hair behind my ears, shivering as I suddenly noticed the air-conditioning. I paced one length of the living room before dropping back onto the couch, my legs weak with realization.

  “It sounds like you need to talk to Connor,” Tony suggested. “Listen, too. Maybe ask him to slow down a little.”

  “The man is incapable of slow.”

  “That’s more sex talk, isn’t it? You’re such a tease.” Russ’s smile couldn’t cover the concern in his eyes. He winked at me but it lacked its usual merry zeal.

  “That’s not exactly helpful, Russ.” Sitting beside Russ, Tony responded to his words without having the advantage of seeing his expression.

  “You’re the psychologist, not me. I don’t do touchyfeely.” Russ got up and came over to me, capturing my hands with his, before sitting on the coffee table.

  “He can handle it, Sara. If you’re not getting what you want, tell him. If you’re mad at him, fight. And if you need him, lean. He’s not going to bail.”

  “And you know that, with absolute certainty, based on two hours’ acquaintance?” Despite Russ’s reassurance, I wasn’t convinced, but I did feel a little better.

  “I’ve watched him watch you. You should try it sometime. It’s quite enlightening. Now it’s time for you to go upstairs and make up.”

  “He was wrong.”

  “Absolutely. Which is why you’re going to make him do the no-clothes thing when he says he’s sorry.”

  Russ squeezed my hands, waggling his eyebrows. I couldn’t help but grin as I pressed back. Freeing myself, I hugged him hard.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Oh, and thanks, Tony. You were a big help.” I stepped toward him and offered my hand. He stood and took it in both of his, shaking gently.

  “My pleasure. Good luck, Sara.”

  “I’ll probably need it. Are you really a psychologist?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Then good luck to you, too. You might need it more than me.” I glanced back at Russ meaningfully for a moment, smiling away the sting.

  “Go back to whatever you were doing. I’ll see myself out.”

  With that, I left.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The knock on the door boomed through the apartment. Popping up like a jack-in-the-box, I managed to drop the book I’d been pretending to read, slam my shin against the coffee table, and slosh lemonade out of my glass and onto the table and carpet. Ignoring the mess, I raced to the front door. My hand on the knob, I took a moment to collect myself, taking a calming breath and using one hand to try to tame my hair before opening the door with a bright smile.

  “Russ.”

  “Tone down the enthusiasm a bit, okay, Sara? It’ll go to my head.”

  “Sorry. C’mon in.”

  I gestured Russ toward the living room. He preceded me, forced to take an awkward step as he noticed the sticky pond on the carpeting only at the last second. He turned toward me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged and he shook his head in disgust. Placing the shiny package he had been carrying on the side table, he went into the kitchen, coming out with a damp washcloth and a roll of paper towels.

  “I was just about to do that.” I dropped into an armchair and watched as he crouched, dabbing at the carpet.

  “I’m sure. So where is he?”

  “He went for a run. At least, that’s what the note said.”

  “Note. I guess that means you didn’t get a chance to patch things up?” Russ gave the beige carpet a last swipe and rose, returning to the kitchen.


  “He didn’t apologize yet, if that’s what you’re driving at.”

  “Not exactly.” Russ returned with a beer in one hand, stooping to pick up my discarded book and making himself at home on the couch. He glanced at the back cover of the book.

  “The college roommate did it. Revenge for a fraternity prank years earlier.” He set the book on the coffee table.

  “Thanks. That’ll save me the bother of reading the rest of it.”

  “It’s not that good anyway.” Russ reached to fondle the yellow ribbons on the package, deliberately drawing my attention to the gift. I couldn’t generate any enthusiasm.

  “Maybe next time you might let me figure that out for myself.”

  “It’s probably a good thing he went for a run. Give him a chance to cool off.” Russ sat up straighter, moving the box to the coffee table. “Then when he gets back you can go straight to that blinded-with-sex thing.”

  “If he comes back.”

  “He’s coming back. He’s only been gone—”

  “Two hours. At least.” I glanced at my watch, trying to confirm my calculation. “Okay, well, maybe not quite that long, but a long time, anyway.”

  “To a guy like that, it’s probably just a short run. Relax. He’s coming back.” Russ centered the package exactly in the middle of the table, reaching up with his hands to frame the configuration.

  “Of course he is. Tony seems nice.”

  “Subtle change of topic, but I’ll play along. He is nice.” A blush crept along Russ’s cheekbones, and he shifted a little on the cushions.

  “Cute, too.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at me.

  “So why didn’t I hear about this nice, cute guy before I was running into him coming out of your bedroom?”

  “You know what they say about gay men, humping like rabbits night and day?” He crossed his legs, leaning back and adopting a haughty expression.

  I laughed. “That press agent is worth every penny you’re paying her.”

  Licking his lips, he put one hand to the back of his head and stared passionately at something a couple of inches to one side of me.

  “And then some.” I laughed harder. “Stupid stereotypes aside, it’s been a long time between overnight guests for you.”

  Russ dropped his hand and returned to his semislouch.

  “I like him.” Russ’s voice was soft and he stared at his hands, refusing to make eye contact.

  “That’s good. So why have you been keeping him a secret?”

  I felt disconnected from everything. It was as if Connor’s existence had wrapped me in cellophane, one degree separated from everything but him. Even Russ. I was on the outside with my best friend. I stood and rescued my abandoned glass from the coffee table before returning to my chair. I wrapped both hands around the sticky glass, hiding in the prop to hide my hurt feelings.

  “I haven’t known him that long. And you’ve been busy.”

  I knew he didn’t mean it as a slam, but it bruised a little nonetheless.

  “I’m never too busy for you.”

  “Well, anyway, I ran into him at the radio station. We talked, had coffee. The next day I called him and asked him to dinner.”

  “You called him?” Russ had been so gun-shy over the last couple of years, I was surprised.

  “Yeah.”

  “You must really like him.”

  “Like I said, he’s a good guy. And I’m lonely.”

  I was broadsided and for a moment couldn’t even respond.

  “Russ. God, I didn’t realize.” My throat felt tight and my words came out in a croak. I got up and went to sit next to him on the couch, reaching out to hold his hand, squeezing until he met my gaze. “I mean, I’ve been all caught up in this case and Connor and—”

  “It’s not your job to make sure I never feel lonely, Sara.”

  “I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to be there when you need me.”

  “You are there when I need you. I never would have gotten through the last couple years without you.” He dropped my hands and draped an arm around my shoulders, scooting lower against the sofa. I settled lower, too, resting my head against his arm.

  “But I didn’t know you were lonely. I should have known.”

  He kissed my head and gave me a quick hug.

  “Getting married was the best thing you could have done for either of us.”

  “What do you mean?” I shifted so that I could meet his eyes. For once there was no humor in his expression. It saddened me.

  “Neither one of us was going to get a life. We were relying on each other for everything. Friendship, companionship, laughter, concern. Pretty much everything but sex.”

  “You never offered,” I told him.

  He laughed, leaning forward to give me a hearty kiss on the cheek.

  “Having you to do things with made it easier for me to not look for anything else. And you were doing the same thing.”

  “I do love you.” I reached up and took his face between my hands.

  He leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine.

  “I love you, too, Sara. But you can’t be my boyfriend. And I can’t be your husband.”

  “We’re still best friends, though, right?”

  “Always.” He kissed my hand. “And that’s why I thought I should bring you your wedding gift.” He took the package from the table and placed it in my lap.

  “This is the first wedding gift we’ve gotten. In fact, it’s the only one we’ve gotten.” I swallowed hard, not quite ready to shift gears. I cleared my throat and sat up, staring at the shiny silver paper with its big yellow bow. I threw a quick smile in his direction, determined to show him how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness.

  “Then it’ll be the best one you get. Go on; open it.” Russ nudged me with his shoulder.

  “Maybe I should wait for Connor. For when he gets back.”

  “There’re actually two boxes there. The top one is for you. The bottom is his. Go ahead and open yours.”

  “Our first his-and-hers.” I shook the boxes a little. Nothing. Damn.

  “Open it.”

  “Okay, but only because you insist.” I smiled at him, still trying to clear the lump from my throat. Turning my attention back to the package, I untied the bow and the two boxes slid apart. Taking the top box, I tore the paper and lifted the top of the box. Pushing delicate lavender tissue paper out of the way, I stared. From inside an elaborate silver frame, Connor’s unsmiling face and grass green eyes stared back.

  “I had to borrow his military ID. It’s actually friendlier than his driver’s license. You’d think a guy as beautiful as him would work the camera a little.”

  I laughed. And laughed. And laughed until tears ran down my cheeks.

  “It’s wonderful.” I hugged him hard.

  “I figure every woman should have a picture of her husband.”

  “Definitely.” Smiling, I returned my gaze to the picture, running my hand along the frame.

  “I hope you used a better picture of me.”

  “Ugly bridesmaid dress, party last spring. You wore that orange dress with the big poofy sleeves and the matching bow in your hair.”

  I groaned, closing my eyes in momentary horror. “Thanks.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  Seeing the funny side, I started to laugh again, my sides aching. Russ joined in.

  “At least he’s got a picture that accurately reflects his wife’s sense of style.” Russ pushed the heckle out between gasping breaths. I sat upright, my humor fading as I tried to calm my breathing. I stared at the picture.

  “A picture of his wife.”

  “Yeah. Of course. That’s the point.”

  “He had a picture of his wife. I am so stupid.” Connor was right. Wesley was right. Jepsen was the guy. He had to be the guy. Didn’t he? Rising, I set the pictures on the table and started looking around for my keys, stepping over Russ’s outstretched legs.


  “What?”

  “I’ve gotta go. Where are my damn keys?” I paced around the living room, checking tables, moving things, trying to catch a glimpse of my keys.

  “Go where?”

  “Do me a favor. Tell Connor I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  There were two sets of keys sitting on the hall table: my rubber sneaker shoe ring and another. I picked up the second set. The key ring was an embossed gold M. There were a half-dozen keys and a black plastic remote-entry device. It took me a minute to remember where I’d seen them before. The secretary. They’d fallen from her purse and I’d tried to use them as a weapon. I stared at the key ring, tracing the gold with my finger. Of course, the letter M. M for Millicent. Or maybe, just maybe M for Masterson. I grabbed my cell phone and headed out the door.

  “But where are you going?” Russ called to my back. Ignoring him, I picked up my pace.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  I parked along the road several blocks from the Masterson estate. If I had to run for it, I was going to regret leaving the car so far away. I pulled the cell phone from my pocket as I made my way through the trees that screened the houses from the road. The sun was up and I began to sweat. I called the apartment first, leaving another message for Connor to meet me at the Masterson estate. I wondered where he was and if he was on his way. I’d left two messages for Sergeant Wesley, too. I hadn’t told him everything. I wasn’t really holding out on him, but without the money I didn’t think he’d believe me.

  I circled around the back of the property. Everything looked closed up tight. No cars sat in the driveway, no shades were up, the gatehouse looked deserted. I took a deep breath and ran across the lawn. I clicked the electronic fob at the garage door and it began to go up with a squeak. I glanced over my shoulder. I slipped inside and pressed the switch to drop the garage door behind me. I leaned against the door, breathing hard, listening for sounds of movement in the house. When I didn’t hear anything for a full two minutes, I slipped into the house, moving across the kitchen, through the shadowed living room, and up the stairs. At some point, someone had pulled all the shades in the house, whether to keep out the August sun or prying eyes, I wasn’t sure. Still, I was grateful. Nervous sweat ran into my eyes even in the stuffy coolness of the house.