Now and Always (14 page)

“Let's talk about something more enjoyable. Why don't we all bring out family and ‘significant others' pictures and share them.”

Tottie shot her a curious look, but
Katie ignored her. She would explain later, but right now, she wanted to see pictures of the women's abusers to see if she could spot a familiar face, someone she might have seen around town, and try to put a face to a stalker.

Meg shook her head. “I don't have many. All I could think of was getting away. There wasn't time to take much. I do have one in my wallet.”

Janet got to her feet. “Like Meg, I don't have many, but I think it's a good idea to share. I'll get what I have.”

When Ruth left the room, Tottie frowned at Katie. “You're up to something.”

Katie shook her head. The others soon returned with a pitiful number of pictures, all they'd been able to bring with them. But they shared them, talking about the people there, people they loved but who hadn't been able to help them escape from their tortured situations. Katie listened to the stories and looked at the pictures, but it was just an exercise in futility. She'd never seen any of these people.

The women retired to their rooms for the night, and Warren called. Katie was surprised at how glad she was to hear from him. She had been afraid he would stop calling and coming around, especially since he'd ignored her this afternoon. They chatted for a while about nothing in particular, just friendly conversation.

“I saw you with Ben in town today.” So he had seen her.

“I was telling him about a strange incident. Someone put some flowers in my mailbox. The bouquet was crumpled and disgusting.”

“Did the gift have an enclosed card?”

“I don't think anyone in their right mind would leave a card.”

“Maybe you're not a good judge of flowers.”

She laughed. “Guilty. I haven't been the recipient of many in my lifetime, but these concern me.”

“Tell you what. Don't bother Ben the next time something happens. He's got a lot of territory to cover. Call me, and I'll take a look around. That's a promise. You have my cell phone number, and I always have it with me.”

Katie grinned. Well okay.
Progress — something that seemed
long in coming.
She couldn't resist a little teasing. “Clara has been asking about you.”

The warmth in his voice faded. “What's that broad want?”

She flinched. The term
broad
set her teeth on edge.

“Don't call her a broad. It's disrespectful.”

“I meant it to be.” He chuckled, and she realized he was teasing. “She's not my type.”

Katie wanted to ask him what kind of woman he considered to be his type, but resisted. “She's all right once you get acquainted.”

“I know all about women like her, and the less a man has to do with them, the better off he is.”

This man was really jaded when it came to pushy women. Katie kept her tone light. “Well, God loves her.”

“I'm no expert on what God does, but when it comes to women like Clara, I'd say he has his work cut out for him.”

Katie was no expert on God either, but she figured he had his hands full with Warren's cynicism.

Fourteen

A noise woke Katie.

She lay still, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

It was a muted
whump
!

She froze, listening.

Whump.

Someone was breaking into the house.

Shelter safely 101: never dismiss a sense of danger or overplay it. Most of the abusers' victims had a restraining order, for all the good that accomplished. A piece of paper wouldn't stop a determined man. That's why Tottie had an ear tuned to anything strange. She was armed with baseball bats, a shotgun, and if the attacker was still on his feet, the dreaded mace.

Adequate, but not impenetrable.

Whump.

Reaching for her robe, Katie slid out of bed, her feet softly touching the floor. Indian summer was over and falling temperatures had turned the house into a dank tomb. Shivering, she tied the sash around her middle and felt around with her toe for her slippers.

Flashlight.

She automatically reached for the twin beam, keeping an ear tuned to the sound.

Maybe a shutter was banging in the wind?

She moved down the dark hallway, creeping past the rooms of sleeping women.

Whump.
The sound came from downstairs, maybe in the kitchen or service pantry?

Her hand tightened around the flashlight, and she switched on the beam. Wouldn't a shutter make a
whump,
whump
sound instead of one brief
whump
?

She paused, shining the beam around the hardwood floor. Light searched out each corner, each closed door. A board creaked as Katie moved through the dark living room into the kitchen. She flashed the beam on the wall clock. 1:45. The wind had come up, rattling bare oak branches outside.

God, I hope you're watching
.

Her gaze focused on the cellar door. Closed.

Was someone hiding in there?

Cold penetrated her robe and she shivered. A gust of wind rocked the house. She waited, listening. Nothing.

A broken shutter didn't repair itself.

Whirling, she focused the beam in the living area then moved it slowly to the cellar. She sensed someone was behind that door. Her hair prickled.

Call for Tottie!
Clammy palms tightened their grip around the flashlight.

But if she called Tottie, she would scare off the intruder, and what if she woke everyone only to determine she'd made a mistake?

A numbness that didn't have anything to do with the cold house washed over her. The only way to know what lay behind that door was to open it.

Fear gathered in cotton wads that blocked her airway. She'd barely escaped harm once from an abuser. When she'd come out of that scary episode alive, she'd promised herself and Tottie that she would never risk her life again for the shelter. She'd promised Warren. And Ben.

The closed door screamed silence.

She switched off the beam. Darkness swallowed her, and she realized that the outside security light was out. Why hadn't she noticed? Had someone cut the power source?

She stepped back, wiping sweaty palms on the sides of her housecoat.

Okay. Open the door.

Her hand slowly closed around the icy knob and inched it open. Then she jerked.

Something lunged toward her. Katie fell backwards, her petrified screams shattering the night air. Her head slammed against the floor. She had an impression of something hurtling past, and then pain and darkness overcame her.

Katie woke to a blaze of light and Tottie bending close. She blinked at the sudden brightness. Her head hurt. Her shoulder throbbed. “What happened?”

“You tell me.” Tottie's voice was acid-sharp, her eyes pinpoints of slanted light. “We heard you scream and rushed downstairs and that thing was batting around the room.”

Katie tried to sit up, but the room whirled and she sank back down. Something large and moving fast flew overhead. Tottie ducked. The sound of breaking glass shattered the room. Clara, prominent politician Clara, dashed past holding a large towel, arms outstretched.
Katie shut her eyes and then opened them again. Clara was attacking people? Had she been hiding in the cellar?

Katie pushed up to one elbow in time to see Meg run toward the living room, screaming, “Catch him!”

“Him?” Katie glanced at Tottie. “Who?”

“Not who, what. A barn owl. Apparently he was in the cellar.”

“That's what hit me? An owl?”

“I think you fell and hit your head.”

Katie ducked as the owl flew past, the women in hot pursuit. Janet knocked over a chair, staggered, and fell against the table. Ruth swatted the air with a broom, sending the owl in headlong flight toward the kitchen window.

Janet opened the door, propping the screen back with a stick of wood. “Head him this way. Maybe he'll fly out.”

“We're trying,” Clara panted. “But he's not cooperating. Reminds me of some senators I've known.”

“Wait,” Meg shouted. “We're just scaring it more. Give it time to calm down.”

All activity ceased as the women stood silent, waiting. The owl swooped overhead, and came to rest on the floor. Clara inched forward, towel outstretched.

“Watch that thing,” Tottie said. “It has strong talons and a beak that can rip your arm.”

Clara paused, turning to look at them, mouth open, eyes wide. Then she swallowed and took a slow step toward the owl. Meg, brandishing a dishtowel, moved in from the opposite direction.

In one swift movement, Clara lunged at the large bird, covering it with the towel. “I've got it!”

Apparently the smothering cloth cowed the owl into inactivity. Clara lifted it, grunting with the effort. Meg ran to open the kitchen door, and together the two women stepped outside and released the feathered intruder.

Meg grinned. “We make a good team.”

“None better.” Clara shook out the towel and glanced around the room. “He sure made a mess.”

Katie, still on the floor, looked around at the shambles the owl had made of Tottie's kitchen. She thought Tottie would have a fit.

But the housekeeper remained silent, eyes searching the cellar door. Then she glanced back at Katie. “What I want to know is who put that bird in the cellar? It didn't get in there by itself.”

The women suddenly fell quiet as her words echoed in the room. Fear, like a smothering blanket, kept them frozen in place. Katie took a deep breath. Tottie was right. There was no way that owl could have gotten into the cellar on its own. Someone had put it there, the same someone who was behind all the other things that had been happening?

Tottie shoved herself to her feet and reached down to help Katie get up. “Let's get a cold compress on that head.”

“I've got a headache.” Probably had a lump the size of Mount Everest rising too.

The housekeeper nodded. “I'll make a pot of coffee. No one can sleep now anyway. Sit here. We need to talk.”

Katie agreed, though she knew she would hate the subject. It didn't take a mystic to see Tottie had had her fill of scares.

Meg dropped into a chair opposite her. “Why would anyone put an owl in the cellar?”

Katie spread her hands in a shrug. “I don't have a clue. A prank, I guess.” Tottie measured coffee while Janet brought a broom and dustpan to clean up the glass shards from a shattered vase.

Katie's eyes roamed the kitchen, realizing anyone standing outside could see in. Tottie was waiting for an explanation, so she collected her thoughts. She didn't want to frighten the women until she knew what had really happened.

“We're just guessing someone put the owl in the cellar. In the morning we can find out more about it. And while the excitement was exhilarating, no lasting damage was done. So let's not jump to conclusions.”

Ruth returned from checking the doors. “Everything's locked up tight. No one has been in the house.”

“So let's have a cup of coffee and a sweet roll and then go back to bed.” Katie spoke with a brightness she didn't feel. She had a hunch Tottie was right.

Someone had put that owl in the cellar.

Early the next morning, Katie walked around the house looking for signs of how the bird had gotten in last night. A broken cellar window at the back of the house seemed to be the point of entry. A loose feather caught in the branches of the forsythia bush fluttered in the wind. The ground was too hard to hold a footprint, but why would a barn owl be on the ground at the back of the house? It would have had to fly into the low window hard enough to break it, and she couldn't see how that could have happened. No, Tottie was right. That owl had help getting inside.

After breakfast, Katie took the list Tottie handed her. Clara downed her coffee and pushed back from the table. “Mind if I ride along?”

It was the first simple request Clara had made. It wasn't a good idea, but Katie relented. “If you remain in the car unseen.”

“Fine. Anything to get out of here for awhile.”

Katie drove into Little Bush with Clara in the passenger seat. Regardless of what the budget said, she needed a latte. Needed it bad. She parked outside the grocery mart and warned Clara to stay put.

“Pick me up a package of Salems, will you? I'll have my people reimburse you.”

Katie nodded, but she was tempted to remind her that she was still waiting for the check on the caviar.

“Want a latte?”

“No, just the smokes.”

Katie met Ben on the sidewalk outside of the coffee shop.

“Hey, girl-of-my-dreams-who-won't-give-me-the-time-of-day.” His eyes sparked with devilment. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee — better yet, marry me and I'll buy you a latte machine.”

“Make that a Starbucks and you're on.”

He held the door to the café open for her and followed as she walked inside. They settled in a booth and gave their orders, and Ben looked at her speculatively. “You look peaked. Bad night?”