Cattitude (35 page)

“Sorcha tramps through the woods every day
looking for the damned cat. Today won’t be any different.” Caroline
imagined the surprised look on Sorcha’s face when she saw Caroline
step out from behind a tree. Then she saw the surprise turn into
fear as Caroline lifted the gun.

She patted her mother’s arm. “Of course I
won’t let anyone see me. Don’t fuss. I’ve done this before, you
know.”

“Yes, but it seems so...risky. And for what?
There’s no profit.”

Caroline slipped the strap of the handbag
over her arm. The bag hit her hip, and she felt the solidness of
the gun.

Nice. She liked the way it made her feel.
Powerful. Just like when she looked down and saw Emery’s broken
body. Until that instant, she hadn’t realized how much she disliked
her husband.

She glanced out the window, the sun shining
on the cars on the street. “It’s going to be a perfect day,” she
said. Perfect for a murder.

***

A sedan pulled into the parking lot, beige
and anonymous, with tinted glass. To Phil, watching out of his
motel window, the most sinister sight he’d seen since looking into
Caroline’s icily beautiful face last night.

Bob, he thought. Just the kind of car he’d
rent.

He pressed on a number on his cell phone. Bob
was early. Deputy Michaels was late. Where the hell was she?

“Harland Sheriff’s Department,” a familiar
female voice said.

“I need to talk to Deputy Michaels.”

“So you told me four times already. I gave
her your message and she’s on the way. If this is an emergency, you
should tell me.”

“No! Yes! Maybe! If they—” A car door slammed
outside his motel room door. He took two steps to the window and
peered out. Parked in front of the room two doors down, Bob exited
the sedan.

Parasites inside Phil’s stomach started doing
a rendition of River Dance, and he put his hand over his abdomen.
“Try her again. Tell her Bob’s here right now and if she doesn’t
get here soon, it’s going to be too late.” He broke the connection,
slipped the phone in his pocket and hurried to open the door.

Bob stood just outside it, holding a
briefcase. Phil’s chest tightened. It was like opening door number
one and finding a nightmare instead of a dream.

“Where is she?” Bob demanded.

“I don’t know. Come in and we’ll talk.”

Bob stayed outside his motel room, an
immovable object. “We’ve talked too much already. I want action.
You should’ve taken care of this already. I want it done today.
Take me to the house where she’s staying.”

Phil started to sweat, though the morning
April air was probably in the high forties. Where the hell was
Michaels?

A tan car pulled into the motel parking lot.
Phil saw a woman with brown hair and a man with blond hair.
Michaels and her partner.

His breath whooshed out and his strong legs
felt weak. “I’ll get the gun.”

Bob followed him into the motel room, the
briefcase banging against the door jamb. “She’s still at the
house?”

Phil’s stomach felt as if it were tied in a
sailor’s knot. “She’s probably walking in the woods.”

“Why the woods?”

“She’s looking for a missing cat.” Phil
grabbed his gym bag with the gun and the bullets. “The guy who owns
the house where she’s staying has a cat that’s missing.”

“Will she be alone?”

Phil reminded himself that Michaels was
coming. Only then could he answer. “Yes.”

“Good. The only witnesses will be a squirrel
or two. I don’t know what you were waiting for. A fucking
invitation? Let’s get out of here and get the job done.” He gave
Phil a sharp look. “You know we’re doing this for Lorna and Danny,
right? It’s her or them.”

Unable to say anything, his voice choked up,
Phil nodded.

Bob headed toward the car, apparently
satisfied. “Then let’s do it.”

Two minutes later, Phil was driving out of
the parking lot. Phil glanced at the rear view mirror. Behind a
yellow Volkswagen, Michaels and Brigg’s anonymous tan car followed
them.

“I’ve got one too,” Bob said.

“Got what?” Phil stared out the front of the
window. The other day he’d barely missed a squirrel dashing to the
other side of the road. It had unnerved him.

Bob’s briefcase clicked twice. “This.”

Phil glanced over to see Bob holding a
long-barreled handgun that looked like something an assassin might
use.

Holy shit! The car swerved and Bob laughed,
an excited note in his voice.

“It’s backup.” Bob caressed the barrel as
though it were a lover. “I’ll let you take the first shot.”

Phil’s stomach lurched. A semi was coming
toward them in the other lane and he gripped the steering wheel to
keep from swerving again. As soon as the semi passed, he glanced in
the rear view mirror.

The yellow Volkswagen was still behind him,
but no tan car.

Shit! He felt lightheaded. The couple in the
parking lot hadn’t been Michaels and her partner, after all. Just a
couple renting a hotel room.

He was leading Bob straight to Sorcha.

And Bob had a gun.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

***

Sorcha crouched in front of a covered rose
bush and peered at the mini-castle. She wasn’t sure what she waited
for, but she kept watching the house. The sun was in the sky for a
couple of hours already, but the searchers hadn’t returned. Did
that mean Gwen had been caught?

A movement in the attic caught her eye.
Someone was pressing against the rectangular window, looking out.
The face was a pale blur, but Sorcha was sure it was Gwen. Sorcha
wondered if Gwen was looking for a glimpse of her.

Sorcha moved out of the shadow of the rose
bush, padding into the clearing in front of a white wrought iron
bench.

Now Sorcha knew what she’d been waiting for.
This.
The chance to say goodbye before she turned into a
woman again.

Gazing up at the pale blur, she sent her a
message:
I have to go. I’ve been scared my whole life, but now
I’m going to do the right thing, even though I don’t want to do it.
Even if it takes me away from you. Seeing how brave you are makes
me want to be brave too. I love you, Gwen.

Another smaller blur stole up the window.
Gwen’s hand.

Sorcha imagined it was Gwen’s way of saying
I love you too, Princess.

Sorcha’s soul ached, but she pivoted away.
Without looking back, she dashed through the long cut grass toward
the neighbor’s property and the thicket of trees where Belle roamed
every day, looking for her. They’d change bodies with no fuss, like
turning on a light switch, and everything would be as it should be
again.

The cat would be loved and cared for. Sorcha
would be lonely and unloved.

Her dash slowed to a fast saunter, but she
kept going. She hadn’t realized how empty her human life was until
she’d changed into a cat.

Maybe in her next life, God would make her a
cat for real.

On hold with his travel agent, Max looked out
his office window and watched Sorcha—no, Belle—walk out of the
house. Just as she did every day, she strode toward the trees. Now
he knew why she exerted herself searching for the cat when she
wouldn’t bother to toss her empty tuna cans in the recyclable
bin.

She was the cat.

The on-hold guitar music stopped and he
swiveled in his chair. By this evening, he’d be miles away from
Belle and his entire family.

Her voice quivering with curiosity, his agent
told him she could get him on a two o’clock flight to San
Francisco. She named an exorbitant sum and told him it was nonstop.
He gave the go-ahead and hung up. His sanity was at stake, not his
bank account.

Ted strolled into the office. He wore jeans
and a red Buck’s sweatshirt, stubble dotted his chin and his eyes
were half lidded from getting up a good three hours earlier than
normal. Max guessed his lawyer would think he was certifiable when
he signed over his real estate assets to Ted.

Too damned bad.

Dressed in stretchy pants, a T-shirt and her
hair in a ponytail, Tory jogged into the room. Tendrils of red
curls stuck to her forehead. She slumped onto Max’s chair.

“I hate exercising. You guys leaving?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Ted gave an
empty laugh.

Tory sat up straight. “What’s going on?”

“Max is going on his travels early. He’s
leaving this afternoon,”

“No!”

“We’re going to the lawyer’s and the bank
now.”

“No!”

“He’s signing everything over to me.”

“No!”

Ted gestured, palms up, fingers splayed.
“Yes.”

Tory turned her blue gaze to Max. “Why? What
happened to you and Sorcha?”

He gave her what he hoped was a steely look.
“Did I ever tell you to mind your own business?”

“I don’t know. Did I ever listen?”

Ted laughed.

Max jerked his chin at Ted. “C’mon, let’s
go.”

“Wait!” Tory jumped to her feet. “You can’t
leave just like that. You should’ve seen Sorcha last night. She
wouldn’t let us touch you. She was like...like...”

“A lioness,” Ted said.

“Exactly! So what’s going on? You can hardly
keep your eyes off her. She’s the same way with you. At least take
her with you.”

Max’s fingers opened and closed. His chest
felt as if an elephant sat on it. This was torture. He had to get
out of here.

“Are you coming?” he asked Ted. “Because I’m
going.”

Max strode out of the office, hearing Ted’s
footsteps behind him.

“Men!” Tory called out, a throb in her voice.
“You’re all the same.”

“She’s crying,” Ted said as they walked into
the garage. “She’s going to take your leaving hard.”

Max hopped into the driver’s seat of the
Jeep. “She’s a better actress than we thought.”

He drove too fast along the driveway. At the
edge of the trees, a slender woman stopped and peered at the Jeep,
her hand shading her eyes from the sun that shone down on her,
haloing her in light.

Sorcha. No, not Sorcha. Belle.

He stared straight ahead until they passed
her and he turned onto Camel’s Back Road. Only when he reached the
next property, past the line of trees, did he exhale and realize
he’d been holding his breath. His heart must’ve been beating, but
it felt like it had stopped. He was numb inside. Dead.

“Can you slow down?” Ted said. “You keep
going this fast, we’ll end up in a ditch .”

Max eased up his foot and turned on the
radio. A song he didn’t know and didn’t like cranked out. He
cranked up the volume, filling his mind with music, drowning out
his thoughts.

Twenty minutes later, he was shaking hands
with his lawyer, a muscular, freckled man in his thirties. Ted
reminded John they’d met last summer, and John did a damn good job
of faking his memory of their meeting.

“You’re lucky I’m ready for you.” John
gestured for Max and Ted to sit. “My paralegal started her family
leave last Friday, and I asked her to finish your paperwork before
she left. Otherwise you would’ve had to wait at least a day.”

Max took a seat. He wasn’t waiting for
anyone. Not anymore. He glanced at his watch.

“In a hurry?” John asked, opening a
folder.

Max opened his mouth to reply, and nothing
came out, his throat closing up. Emotion struck him like a
lightning bolt coming out of nowhere, fast and vicious. Hurt flared
inside him, his numbness burned away. One moment he was thinking of
the time, the next he was struggling to speak.

John repeated the question, and Max shook his
head. “No hurry,” he said, his voice croaking.

He forced back the pain. His hands clenched
on his thighs, his muscles tensed, he put up mental blocks to push
back the hurt so he could function, an old skill he’d learned from
necessity. He’d been through worse after his father died, he told
himself, when his life turned upside-down and everyone else was
falling apart. Unlike the soldiers in Humpty Dumpty’s time, he’d
picked up their pieces and glued them back together.

He needed to pick up his own pieces now. Glue
his own life back together.

“Read, then sign,” John said.

Max skimmed the document, signed and handed
the sheet of paper to Ted, who set it on the desk and scrawled his
name.

“You’re supposed to read it,” Max said.

“You read it. I don’t have to.”

“I hope you’ll take better care of the
business than that.”

“Only one way you can tell for sure. Stick
around and watch me.”

Max frowned, even as an unexpected wish that
he could do just that flashed into his mind. Not because he thought
Ted would screw up. But because he thought Ted would do well and he
wanted to be there to celebrate his successes. He wanted to watch
and feel proud.

John handed Max another document. As he read
it, the cell phone clipped on his belt rang. He picked it up,
looked at caller ID, then turned off the power.

“Who was it?” Ted asked.

“Mom.”

Ted snickered.

Max ignored him and signed the document. He
was handing it to Ted when another phone started to ring.

“Yours?” Max asked Ted. “Guess who?”

Grinning, Ted brought up his cell phone and
looked at the number. “Mom. What do you bet she talked to Tory and
knows you’re leaving?”

“Not a penny.”

Chuckling, Ted brought the phone to his
ear.

“You’re not talking to her,” Max said.

“I’m not the one who’s running away from
home,” Ted said, still grinning. The next second he was saying
hello.

“Ready for this?” John handed him a half
dozen or so sheets of paper. “Once you both sign this, it’s over,
so don’t sign unless you’re sure this is what you want.” His
forehead puckered. “I watched you buy the apartment buildings, one
by one, saw the sweat and equity you put into them. You’re going
against my advice.”