by Lily Black
It was time she put him out of her mind, and the easiest way to do that would be to get on with her work for the evening. Alexa grabbed her purse and the small box of books she needed to look over before the next morning then propped herself up against the car while she fished for her keys. Oh yeah, my boots! She slung her purse higher on her shoulder, piled the boots on the box, and dangled the keys from her pinkie finger. Good thing it wasn’t far to her door.
She was just starting for the house when a truck pulled up and parked at her curb. Drew got out and shut the door.
It was the same thing all over again. She felt the same flash of pleasure at the sight of him, followed by the sick feeling of embarrassment and dread, not to mention anger that he could still affect her like that. Mother of Pearl, how could he still get under her skin?
Alexa turned her back on him and marched up to her door. At least, she tried to march. With her arms loaded and her bare feet flinching at the cold, it was more of a fast shuffle. She prayed it didn’t look as though she was running scared. She offered the fates anything they wanted—even her secret stash of fuzzy cat sweaters she liked to pull out each Christmas—if only she could make it to her door and get safely inside before he caught up to her.
Apparently, the fates weren’t interested. In a few long strides, Drew had cut across the lawn and stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Hey.” He balanced on his toes, as if he was torn between coming and going. “I heard back on your tire and thought I’d stop by. Need a hand?”
Alexa fumbled with her keys, trying unsuccessfully to look poised and collected as she balanced her purse, the box of books, and her boots, all while standing in her bare feet.
Hopeless. Why exactly did she care if she looked poised in front of Drew, anyway? “So, what did they find? Can it be fixed?”
Drew shifted from one foot to the other. “There’s a cut in the tire wall, so you’ll need a new tire. It can’t be patched, and it looks like it’s—”
When Alexa realized where he was going, the keys slipped from her fingers and jangled onto the porch steps.
Drew reached down and picked them up. He flipped them once in his hand then met Alexa’s eyes. “Your tire’s been slashed. Do you know anyone who would do that? Anyone who might be angry or holding a grudge?”
“Besides you?” Alexa smiled sweetly at the astonishment on his face then turned her back on him. Okay, so maybe that was uncalled for. Between the stalker, slashed tire, and Drew showing up, acting as if he had a place in her life, she wasn’t sure which way was up or down anymore.
She did know that she needed to dump her armful of books before she dropped them all at Drew’s feet. Alexa steadied the box on the porch railing, hoping it would balance there. That was when she noticed a flash of movement. Something in the living room window caught her eye.
Ragbag, her kitten, stood on the ledge inside the window. He was soaking wet and dripping.
He meowed through the window then bent his head to lick his wet fur. His balance was off, and he wobbled before tumbling off the ledge.
“Ragbag!” Alexa snatched the keys from Drew’s hand and unlocked the door in record time.
Dumping the big box on the couch, she bent beside Ragbag and examined him carefully. He was even soggier than he’d looked in the window, but he appeared okay aside from that. He jumped into her lap and purred ecstatically because she was home.
“Silly kitten, how’d you get wet?” Alexa asked. “The water dish?” Ragbag had been known to play in the water, but he’d never soaked himself.
Drew had followed her and stood in the doorway with his head cocked. “Is that running water I hear?”
“Running water?” Alexa caught the sound and got up, running as fast as she could manage down the hall to the bathroom. When she tried to open the door, she slammed into it. It was locked.
Through the door, she could hear water running and a weak meow.
Reaching up over her head, she ran her fingers along the top of the doorframe. Once upon a time, she had kept a small pick there, intended to open this kind of lock, but her searching fingers came up empty.
She slammed her fist into the closed door. “Damn!”
“Let me.” Drew flipped open a micro tool and reached past her to fiddle with the lock. After a moment, the lock made an audible click, then the door swung open.
Alexa rushed in. Her two adult cats were in the bathtub, trapped underneath a laundry basket that had been flipped over to make a cage. The tap was turned on, and the water level in the tub had risen to the point that the cats were just barely keeping their heads above water. Even as she watched, Fieldgar’s head slipped beneath the surface.
Snatching the basket out of the tub, Alexa tossed it aside and pulled Fieldgar free. She passed him to Drew, who crouched beside her, ready with a towel. Then she reached back for Oreo. When her black-and-white kitty was bundled in a towel, she looked around for Ragbag, who had followed them in, but Drew had already wrapped him in another towel.
“I… I don’t…” Alexa stuttered to a stop. She put her face down close to Oreo’s face and worked to calm her racing heart enough so she could get words out. Falling apart wouldn’t help her cats—figuring this out would. She drew on the calm she reached for when sparring and lifted her head. “How did they get in the tub? And why was the water running?” She knew Drew didn’t have the answers, but she needed him to get her thinking and help her sort out what had happened.
Instead of answering, he picked Fieldgar up and rubbed him vigorously then held him out to Alexa. “He’s so limp, almost like he’s asleep. Is that normal?”
She took Fieldgar and cradled him in her lap. She stroked his tiger-orange face then tickled him under the chin but got no response. “The water was cool, and cats hate water. Maybe he’s in shock?”
“Maybe,” Drew answered grimly. “But I wonder if that’s all.” He stood and started searching around the edge of the tub. After a minute, he held up a squeezable tube for Alexa to examine. “What’s this?”
Alexa gasped. “Their sedative! I use it when they travel.” She grabbed the tube then looked at her sleepy cats. Fieldgar was just this side of conscious, and Oreo wasn’t much better. “I don’t know how much they were given or how long they were in the water. I have to get them to the vet!”
“Right.” Drew grabbed another towel from the stack on the shelf and rubbed down the empty laundry basket. Then he flipped it over and made a nest in the bottom for the cats. “You hold them; I’ll drive.”
“Right,” Alexa answered. “Go start your truck.”
In two minutes, they were speeding toward the animal hospital at the edge of town. Alexa knew the vet—his wife liked to come into Crouching Tiger for the early-morning cardio routine. Plus, the vet had taken care of her cats since she moved to Willowdale. She called the clinic’s emergency number on the way, and he agreed to meet them there.
Ragbag poked his head out of the basket and meowed piteously.
“It’s okay, baby,” Alexa told him, stroking his fur. She spoke to Drew, needing interaction so she could keep herself together. “He hates car rides.”
Drew glanced over at the cat. “I don’t blame him. Everything about riding in a car must be disorienting for a cat.”
Alexa nodded and settled Ragbag back into the nest of towels. Fieldgar’s orange tiger stripes contrasted with Oreo’s black-and-white fur. Ragbag sprawled across them both, adding his splotches of brown, orange, and black. Cuddled down in the towels, they looked almost like someone’s idea of a laundry joke.
Alexa felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She blinked hard and fixed her eyes on the road. They will be okay. They have to be.
Drew glanced at her, and his hand moved as if to touch her. He pulled back, keeping both hands on the steering wheel. When he spoke, his tone was gentle to distract her and provide comfort. “When I w
as a kid, I used to love the big old tom that lived on my grandparents’ farm—my mom’s parents—in Pennsylvania. He was mean to most people, but he liked me. Probably because I used to share my ice cream with him.”
Alexa smiled. “He ate from your bowl?”
“Worse.” Drew shook his head ruefully. “I used to share my cone with him. We’d take turns, lick for lick, from each side.”
The image surprised a laugh out of Alexa—a small one, but an improvement on the tears she’d felt a minute ago. The tightness in her chest eased, and her heart slowed to something closer to normal.
They pulled up to the clinic. Dr. Springer was waiting by the door, the light from the room behind him silhouetting his long shape. He led them to an examination table and took the cats out one by one. Alexa caught herself holding her breath. The cats looked so floppy and shapeless that breathing seemed like a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Dr. Springer unhooked the stethoscope from his ears after listening to Fieldgar’s lungs and began moving his hands over the cat’s body. “Do you have any idea how long they were in the tub?”
Alexa had filled him in over the phone on how she’d found the cats. Now, she scrunched her face, trying to think. “My house is on the older side, and the tub fills up slowly. So, maybe ten minutes? Or possibly fifteen?”
Drew shifted beside her. “The water wasn’t warm like a bath would be, and cold-water pressure is usually faster than hot. I’d guess more like five to ten minutes.”
Dr. Springer nodded and hooked the stethoscope in his ears so he could listen to Ragbag and Oreo. When it came time to take a small blood sample from each cat, Drew held Fieldgar, Alexa hung on to Oreo, and Dr. Springer took Ragbag. The cats were almost too cooperative, their sleepy state making them easy to examine.
A few minutes later, Dr. Springer set Oreo back in the basket beside Fieldgar and Ragbag then faced Alexa. “I won’t know how much of the sedative they were given until I run the blood test, but I think they’re going to be okay. Let me keep them here tonight, monitor their breathing, and make sure they stay warm and dry. Their lungs sound clear, so I don’t think we have to worry about water inside.”
Alexa nodded, smiling weakly. The relief that washed over her was so intense, she felt light-headed. “That sounds great. And thank you again, Dr. Springer. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m happy to help,” Dr. Springer said with a smile.
“Thank you,” Alexa said. “I’ll call in the morning.”
She followed Drew out to the truck and slumped against the seat. Of course now that her adrenaline was wearing off, her foot was smarting again, and she felt as though she would rather be almost anywhere else. She kept herself well over to her side of the truck so there was no chance of physical contact with Drew. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t trust him as she didn’t trust herself. In her weakened state, it was harder to be sure of her emotions. She was suddenly intensely aware of his warm, solid body and the way he’d worked in sync with her to take care of her babies.
Drew shut his door and started the truck. Then he glanced over at her and spoke gently. “You need to call the police. They’ll want to dust your house for fingerprints.”
Alarm shot through Alexa, and her breathing sped up. Someone had been in her house—someone with a really nasty way of showing his affection. The cats should be safe at the clinic, but her problems were just beginning. Drew was absolutely right. It was time to call the police.
She fumbled in her purse and pulled her cell out, but she didn’t dial 9-1-1 or the police station. She knew someone on the force—Detective Rawlings. The detective was a mom who had twin boys in the school’s Little Tiger program, and she often came in to watch her boys’ classes when she was off duty. If Alexa had to call in the police, she was at least getting the help of someone she knew.
Detective Rawlings picked up on the second ring. Their conversation was short and to the point. When Drew pulled up in front of Alexa’s house, there was already a black-and-white police car parked in front. Detective Rawlings was getting out of a second, unmarked car.
The detective met them on the lawn. “Wait here while the uniforms check for an intruder.” Her voice was cool and professional, but she gave Alexa a little squeeze on the arm before directing two uniformed officers to check the house over. She sent a third to walk around to the back. When the officers gave them the all clear, she led Alexa and Drew into the living room.
Detective Rawlings settled into a chair by the coffee table and pulled out a notebook. Her blond hair was smoothed back in a business-like cut, and her clear blue eyes seemed to catch every detail. Her air of competence gave Alexa the sense that everything was under control. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything you can remember,” she told Alexa.
Drew leaned against the bookcase, and Alexa sat on the couch, facing Detective Rawlings. She took a deep breath and told her about the unexplained gifts and notes.
“It started a few weeks ago when someone left a pretty pumpkin-orange candle in my office at Crouching Tiger. My name was written on the bottom in gold glitter, and the way it sat on the edge of my desk made me think a child had stepped in and put it there.”
Detective Rawlings looked up from her notes. “The office door wasn’t locked? Was it closed?”
Alexa shook her head. “It’s open during the afternoon when we have classes going on. Parents can leave a check on the desk or a note for one of us to call them. Kids don’t usually wander in, but it has happened.”
Detective Rawlings nodded and made a note.
Alexa continued. “Then a week later, a box of snickerdoodles—my favorite cookie—was left in the book deposit box at the library. It was wrapped in my favorite comic strip and had my name written on it.” She bit her lip, anticipating the next question. “Unfortunately, I threw the paper away after opening it. I thought it was left by one of the kids from our story hour, who’d baked some treats and wanted to share. I didn’t think about it maybe being creepy until later.”
Detective Rawlings nodded, her face showing no judgment. Drew shifted from his place in front of the bookcase, but Alexa didn’t let herself look at him.
“Then finally, a card was left in the office at the school, congratulating me on my win in an intraschool tournament. It wasn’t signed, but it had a typed note, and my name looked the same as it did on the comic strip that was wrapped around the cookies. Hand-printed letters—kind of blocky.” Alexa blew out a breath. “That was the first I realized something was off, because the card was a little creepy, and the note was worse. It talked about things I’d been doing, things no one knew but me. And it was creepy in its praise. That was when I realized I had a stalker.”
“Do you have it here?” Detective Rawlings asked.
Alexa nodded and rose. After a few seconds of rummaging through her papers, she handed over the hated card and note, plus their envelope.
The detective studied them a moment then handed them to a uniformed officer. “And the candle? Is it here?”
“No, it’s still at Crouching Tiger. On the desk in the office.” Alexa paused then gave a little shrug. “That’s it, except for the slash to my tire and the attack on my cats today.”
“You mentioned your tire being slashed,” Detective Rawlings said. “Let’s go over the details now.”
Alexa nodded and tried to give a cold and factual account of finding her tire slashed and Drew’s help. This was the opposite of the dramatized story she’d given Keri earlier. With the detective asking questions at appropriate moments, Alexa filled her in on what had happened that evening after she had seen Ragbag in the window.
When Alexa stopped, the detective waited with her pen poised. “Is there anything else? Anyone you can think of who would top a list of suspects?”
Alexa shook her head. Willowdale was a friendly town, and she’d believed she was on good term
s with pretty much everyone—except possibly Drew, but even he had been nothing but a help with her cats.
“It may be someone from your past,” Detective Rawlings said gently. “Old enemies can come back to haunt in situations like these. Have you had any contact with Jason Stone since the trial?”
“You know about that?” Alexa asked, startled. Even hearing Jason’s name made her shiver, and she felt herself curling inward.
“Who is Jason Stone?” Drew asked sharply. “What trial?”
Detective Rawlings glanced at him then at Alexa and said nothing. She clearly understood that it wasn’t her story to tell.
Alexa rubbed her hands over her face then folded them in her lap and spoke as evenly as she could. “A little over three years ago, just before I started on my master’s, a boy came into the campus bookstore where I worked and attacked one of my coworkers, Sierra. They had been in a hot-and-cold relationship for a while, but Sierra had finally broken it off for good, and I guess he decided to kill her. Thankfully, he didn’t succeed. When his case went to trial, I testified against him. His sentence was five to ten years, so he should still be in jail.”
“The part she left out is that she saved her coworker’s life,” Detective Rawlings said dryly. “Jason Stone fought with his ex-girlfriend and stabbed her. Then he went for her throat and would have killed her if Alexa hadn’t stopped him.”
Alexa said nothing, her eyes on her hands. She hadn’t felt like a hero, just terribly frightened. She also felt incredibly guilty that she hadn’t moved faster and prevented her friend from receiving the long scar that ran from her neck down her chest. For months afterward, Alexa had been afraid to be alone, panicked whenever someone moved suddenly. It was one reason she’d taken up martial arts again—to give her some feeling of control in her life.
Detective Rawlings broke the silence. “It will be easy enough to find out if Mr. Stone has been paroled or is still in jail. Let’s hope he’s still locked up.” She turned to Drew. “You were there for the tire change and helped again tonight. Tell me what you remember.”
