by Patricia Fry
****
“Good morning, Gladys,” Craig said when she opened the side kitchen door just before nine Monday morning. “How are you?”
“Good,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Looking forward to another fun day with the kids.”
Craig smiled. When he saw Savannah walk into the room with Teddy in her arms, he asked, “Ready?”
“I think so.” She kissed Teddy and handed him to her mother, then looked around. “Where’s Rags? He was right here. Rags!” she called. She glanced at Craig and said, “I’d better go look for him.” But before she could leave the room, the cat walked in carrying something in his mouth.
“What’s he got there?” Craig asked, chuckling. “Looks like he’s been developing photographs.”
“Give me that,” Savannah spat, reaching down to retrieve the picture. As if obeying her command, Rags dropped it, sat down, and looked up at her. Savannah heard Craig laughing behind her. “Thank you,” she said to the cat as she picked up the photo.
“What is it?” Craig asked. “Where’d he get it?”
Savannah studied the picture. She tilted her head. “Well, it’s the outside of our house.” She looked at it more closely, then handed it to Craig. “Someone took it from somewhere in the vicinity of Antonio’s garden beds.” She pointed. “See, it’s a close-up of that area outside the service porch. I wonder who took it and why.”
Craig put on his glasses and peered more closely at the picture. “Were they trying to shoot through the window? Do you see anyone inside the window there?”
Savannah looked at the picture again. “No. It’s too dark inside to see.” She took the picture from Craig and tossed it onto the counter. “Well, I don’t know where it came from.” She grabbed Rags’s harness and leash from a hook in the service porch and started to put it on him, when she stopped and stared at the photo again. “Unless…” she said.
“Unless what?”
She frowned. “Well, yesterday when Sharon was here, Rags pulled a photo out of her purse. I only got a glimpse of it, but it looked like a picture of our house. Then I guess he dumped her purse over and a bunch of photos were spread all across the floor. She picked them up really fast, but I could have sworn I saw one of our front door. I didn’t want to accuse a new friend of something and it didn’t actually make sense that she’d be photographing our house, so I sloughed it off.” She picked up the picture. “Yeah, this could be one of her pictures.” She cocked her head. “I wonder why she’d be secretly taking pictures around here.”
Gladys walked with the baby toward the sink counter and looked at the photo, saying. “Vannie, remember I saw her taking a picture upstairs yesterday.”
“Yes, you did, but…”
Before she could finish her thought, Craig interrupted. “Hey, let’s get the show on the road, shall we?”
“Sure,” Savannah said. “We have bigger and better and more interesting clues to follow, don’t we?”
Craig grinned at her and winked at Gladys.
“Ready,” Savannah announced once she’d strapped Rags’s halter and leash onto him. She kissed the children good bye and led the cat out to Craig’s car while he tossed her overnight bag into the backseat.
“So who’s Sharon?” he asked after having driven for about ten minutes.
“Oh, a new friend…sort of,” she said. When he glanced at her, she explained, “Well, she’s new in town. She’s the one I met for coffee that day I ran into you. She wanted to ask me for recommendations—you know, doctor, shopping, and stuff.”
“Why you? Where did you meet her?”
“She came to the house when her car broke down.” She turned in her seat to face Craig. “And it was odd. Actually, you might appreciate this: she told me her phone had lost its charge and that my aunt wasn’t home—both apparently lies. My aunt was home and Sharon’s phone rang while she was in my house.”
Craig frowned. “That is odd.”
“I thought so too, at the time. But I guess it could have happened like she said. Maybe my aunt didn’t hear her knock and it’s possible that her phone lost service out by the highway and she got it back when she came in here. Later, when she called and asked me to meet her for coffee, I was a little skeptical. But she seems nice enough—you know, normal. I like her. We have some of the same interests.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Photography, for one thing. And she’s a writer. Oh, and she likes cats. She writes about cats and she plans to join the Cat Alliance.” When Craig looked suspiciously at her again she asked, “What?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you know where she came from?”
“Um…yes, from Utah. She left a bad relationship.” Savannah shook her head. “I’m sure she’s just fine. Like I said, I like her. She seems genuine to me—well, for the most part.”
Craig had driven for over three hours when Savannah pointed. “Cavern Road coming up. Isn’t that where you want to turn?”
Craig nodded. “Thanks.” He then said, “There’s a place up the road a ways where we can get gas and something to eat. I think we’ll drive on up there first and refuel. We don’t know what we’ll find once we get off the main roads.”
“So that’s why you drove this SUV instead of your usual cruiser,” Savannah stated. “Does this car have four-wheel drive?”
“Sure does. The station keeps a couple of these cars just for situations like this. We’ll be incognito, but able to get around on unstable terrain if we need to.”
“I’ve never been to this town,” Savannah said as Craig pulled over and parked next to a run-down diner.
“I wouldn’t call it a town. Most people wouldn’t even notice it if they drove past. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”
Savannah scrunched up her nose. “In there?”
“Yes, in there. Do you see anyplace else where we can get something to eat?” When Savannah balked, he said, “Hey, some of the best food in America comes from these small, out-of-the-way cafés.” He motioned with his head. “Come on.”
Savannah stepped out of the car with Rags on his leash and walked with the cat to what might have once been a flourishing flower bed. Rags took the opportunity to relieve himself. When Craig joined her, she said, “Maybe we can sit at an outside table with the cat. I hate to keep him cooped up in the car for too long. It can make him kind of loopy.”
Craig looked sideways at Savannah. “Loopier than usual? How’s that possible?”
Savannah looked down at Rags and grinned. “Better not talk like that, Craig, if you want him to cooperate in the mission.”
“Mission?” he questioned.
“Yeah, mission, quest, expedition…whatever you want to call it.”
He leaned closer to her and said more quietly, “Let’s hope it’s a successful search-and-seize.” He walked toward the door of the establishment. “I’ll get menus.”
Savannah smiled after him, then continued to follow Rags around as he sniffed and snooped. When the cat stretched out in a sunny spot on the small concrete patio, she sat down at a nearby table and took out her phone.
“Is that your cat?”
Savannah looked up and saw a boy who appeared to be about nine years old staring down at Rags.
“Yes,” she said, placing her phone on the tabletop. “This is Rags.”
The boy looked at him for a few moments before asking, “Why’s he wearing that?”
“The harness and leash? So he doesn’t run away,” she explained.
Just then, Rags stood and walked up to the boy. He bumped the boy’s legs with his head and rubbed against him. The kid stepped back quickly. “What’s he doing?” he asked. “Why did he do that?”
“It’s a greeting,” Savannah said. “He’s saying hello.” She smiled. “I think he wants you to pet him.” When the boy hesitated, she demonstrated. “Like this.” She ran her hand over Rags’s fur several times and scratched him behind one ear. “He
likes to be petted.”
“Oh,” the boy said, crouching and petting the cat.
“His name’s Rags,” she said. “It’s Ragsdale, but Rags for short.” She chuckled. “Rags is his nickname.”
“I know where there are some cats,” the boy said, while continuing to pet Rags. “But they don’t have names. They stay away from people and people stay away from them.” His demeanor softened. “Sometimes I want to play with the little ones—the kittens. They’re cute. But Miguel and Dad say the cats aren’t there for fun. They have jobs. Their job is to kill rats.” He looked up at Savannah. “Does Rags have a job?”
Savannah shook her head. “No. We have him and two other cats for fun—they’re part of our family. They aren’t working cats.” She then asked, “What’s your name?”
“River.”
“River?” she repeated. “Is that your real name?”
“Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. “My sister’s name’s Raven and my brother’s is Wolf. We all have names taken from the land and the forest. Together, we represent the bird nation, the animal nation, and what sustains us. My mother’s part American Indian.” He tilted his head. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Savannah.”
“Named for a place,” he said.
“Yes, there is a place named Savannah. Do you know which state it’s in?”
“Georgia.” When Savannah seemed surprised, he explained, “I study geography in school.”
“What grade are you in?” she asked.
“We don’t actually have grades. My mother teaches us. She said that if we had grades, I’d be in the fourth. But if I were tested, they’d probably put me in the eighth grade.”
“So you’re pretty smart, huh?”
He thought about the question and said, “I have learning opportunities most children don’t have.”
“You sound pretty smart to me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, like our boss says, I’m smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut.” He looked at Savannah through big brown eyes. “Actually, I love to talk, so keeping my mouth shut isn’t all that easy. When I know something, I want to talk about it.”
Savannah grinned. She looked up. “Oh, here comes my friend.”
The boy looked at Craig, then leaned toward Savannah. “Is he your father? You didn’t marry that old guy, did you?”
Savannah chuckled. “He’s a friend.”
River looked at her, then down at Rags. “Why did you two bring your cat out here, anyway? My brother, Wolf, says this is nothing but a watering hole for thirsty travelers.” He frowned. “Wolf says I should never make friends with anyone who stops here for food or gas because I’ll never see them again in this lifetime.” He squinted into Savannah’s eyes and added, “I believe in the afterlife, though, and I figure if I really like them, I can look for them someday when I transition to the other side.”
“You’re quite the philosopher, aren’t you, young man?” Craig said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He handed Savannah a menu and asked her, “Who’s your friend?”
“Craig, this is River.”
Craig shook hands with the boy. “Nice to meet you. Do you live around here?”
River pointed. “Down that road about four miles. Actually three-point-eight miles. Where are you headed, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all,” Craig said. “We’re going down that road about four miles.”
“To my house?” River asked.
Craig shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“My house is the only one that far down the road, well, except for the old mining shack and the house on the hill.” He lowered his brow. “Are you a friend of the boss man?” Before Craig could respond, the boy said, “Well, he’s not here, so you’re probably coming to see his worker bees.” He slapped his hand over his mouth. “Oops, that wasn’t polite. Sorry. That’s what I hear my brother call them sometimes—worker bees, because they always work, even when the boss is gone.”
“Your brother’s observant and clever,” Craig said.
“So am I,” River was quick to say. More excitedly, he added, “I’m the one who saw…” He stopped talking and bit his lower lip.
“What?” Craig asked. “What did you see?”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
Craig stared at the boy for a moment, then asked, “Say, are you hungry, River? We’re going to have some lunch. Would you like to eat with us and the cat?”
The boy looked down at Rags. He shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
“Do your parents know where you are?” Savannah asked.
River nodded and sat down in the chair Craig had pushed out for him. He petted Rags. “What’s he going to eat?”
Savannah pulled a baggie of kibbles and a bowl out of a tote bag. “This.” When the boy frowned, she said, “Yeah, doesn’t look all that appetizing, does it? But he likes it. And for supper, he’ll get some gourmet canned cat food.”
“River, what do you like to eat?” Craig asked.
“Hamburgers. Miss Millie’s husband, Karl, makes good hamburgers.”
Just then, a woman of about sixty stepped out onto the small patio. She stared at the group for a few moments, then rushed toward them shouting, “Scat! Scram! Get out of here.”
River ducked and said, “They invited me to eat with them, Miss Millie. Honest.”
“Yes,” Craig said sternly. “The boy’s with us.”
Millie shook her head. “No, River, I wasn’t talking to you. It’s that mangy cat. He must have sneaked down here from the mines. Scat!” she shouted.
River began to giggle. “He’s their cat, Miss Millie. See, he has a rope on him.”
The waitress edged around the boy to get a closer look at Rags. She frowned. “We don’t normally see pet cats like that—just dogs.” She rolled her eyes. “Many different types and sizes of dogs.” She stared down at Rags. “What is he,” she asked sarcastically, “some sort of therapy animal?”
Savannah smiled. “No. Just a pet.”
“He’s a police cat,” Craig said. “He does search-and-rescue, he works a lineup when we need him to, he investigates crimes, and he’s even been known to attack a criminal.” Craig pointed. “That’s how he got his leg broken—in the line of duty.” He nodded toward Savannah. “He kept an intruder from shooting her.”
“Ohhh,” Millie said, not knowing whether she should believe him or not. “Well, what can I get for you today?” she asked, glancing at the cat a few more times. “The special is creamed eggs on an English muffin and a carrot-and-cabbage slaw.”
Craig looked at River and made a face. “That sounds revolting.”
The boy laughed.
“Our young guest here will have a burger,” Craig said. He asked the boy, “With fries and a milkshake?”
“Sure,” River said, his eyes wide. “Strawberry.”
Craig smiled, then told Millie, “I’ll have the same, only with a cup of coffee. Savannah?”
She ordered a turkey sandwich and iced tea.
“You got it.” Millie glanced once more at the cat before returning to the diner.
“River, I’m guessing that people around here don’t have pet cats,” Savannah said.
He shook his head, then glanced at Craig. “Does he really do all of that stuff he said?”
Savannah nodded. “Yes, and more. Listen, if you’ll give me your address, I’ll send you some books he’s in. You’re probably a more advanced reader, but you might enjoy reading about some of the trouble he gets into and the amazing things he does.”
River’s face lit up. “Yeah I’d like that.”
She got out a pen and pad and asked, “What’s your address?”
“Um…just send it to River Eastman in care of Millie’s Café here in Fire Creek Crossing.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup.” He then said, “Oh, there’s a zip code. I forget what
it is. Maybe Miss Millie can tell you.”
Once the trio had finished eating, Craig asked, “River, can we give you a lift home?”
“Naw. I’m meeting my dad here and we’re going fishing. He drives long-haul—an eighteen-wheeler.” He jumped from his seat and squatted in a dirt patch where he drew a circle. He picked up a twig, broke it in half, and stood it in the middle. “It’s almost one thirty.” He peered into the distance. “He’s kinda late.”
“Wait,” Savannah said. “Did you just make a sundial?”
The boy stared into her eyes. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”
“You haven’t?” he asked, disbelieving. “Do you live in a cave or something?”
Craig laughed, then asked, “River, how many residents live in this area?”
“Well, counting the Framingtons’ fifteen kids…” He chuckled. “And not counting the pigs, barn cats, goats, and work mules, about ninety-seven.”
Craig looked around. “Where do they live? I guess I’m asking where are the perimeters of the town or hamlet or whatever this is considered?”
“Hole-in-the-wall. A blip on the radar.” As if on a roll, River continued, “Boonies. Backwoods. Dullsville.” He took a breath. “Well, most of us live down that road I told you about there. Then there are a few ranches and farms in every direction from here. The nearest town is Rosewood, some thirty miles that way.” He pointed in another direction. “But the biggest shopping area is forty-five miles that way.” He then let out a yelp. “Hey, there’s my dad. He’ll be glad to meet you and probably want to pay for my lunch that you bought.” River began jumping up and down and waving both arms as his father eased the eighteen-wheeler into a dirt lot behind the diner. “Come on. I want you to meet my dad,” River invited, before he ran toward the truck. As the big rig came to a complete stop, River jumped up onto the running board, and when it was safe to do so, he yanked open the door and leaped inside, hugging his dad.
“Ready to go fishing?” his father asked, his voice noticeably husky.
“Sure am. Our gear’s in the car.”
