by Sofie Kelly
Owen still hadn’t appeared. I was afraid to even whisper the cat’s name in case Jonas heard me. I had to keep moving forward, hoping that Owen was here somewhere in the darkness beside me.
I made my way through the dripping trees, trying not to lose my footing on the mud and leaves and pine needles underfoot. Climbing up the embankment was a challenge. My feet kept sliding out from under me. The water sounded louder, closer. I tried to picture the last time I’d been here earlier in the summer. I couldn’t be that far from the stream. I could follow it to the road. I just had to keep moving.
I went from one tree to the next, hugging their trunks, trying to stay small and quiet. I had to assume Jonas was behind me. And then suddenly I pitched forward. A tree branch snapped against my forehead and I landed facedown on the ground. I rolled over onto my back, trying to get my breath. After a few moments, I sat up, running one hand down my right leg. The calf, right above my ankle, was bleeding. I flexed my foot and grimaced. It hurt but I didn’t think anything was broken. I felt around on the ground. I had tripped over a sharp-edged rock a bit bigger than my hand.
I could feel blood running down my leg. I needed a bandage. I pulled off my shirt, grateful that I had a tank top underneath. I managed to tear the fabric at a side seam. I tore off the whole right-front section and fashioned a makeshift tourniquet, knotting it as tightly as I could around my leg. I had just tied a second knot when Owen appeared beside me. He nuzzled my hand and I had to swallow a couple of times so I wouldn’t cry. I buried my face in his neck. He was muddy and wet and none too happy.
The rock I’d tripped over was still next to my foot. I ran my fingers over it and thought maybe I could use it. I looked around. Even though it was dark, I could see that I was at the upper edge of the embankment. I listened, focusing on tuning out the water rushing over the rocks. I heard a foot slip on the wet ground. Or was it just a racoon or a skunk? No. They would have been more sure-footed. It had to be Jonas. He was quiet but not quiet enough.
I kissed the top of Owen’s head, hoping he’d understand what I wanted him to do. I pointed at a nearby tree and then held up the rock. I pantomimed throwing it. He cocked his head to one side. Then I pointed to him and mimicked throwing back my head and yowling. My face was close to his and I saw his golden eyes narrow. Did he get it? I needed him to draw Jonas over to us. He probably would come this way but I needed to be sure and I needed to be ready.
My heart was pounding. My plan to get away from a man who wanted to kill me depended on a cat playing his part. But Owen wasn’t just any cat. I climbed the tree, grateful that it was wet and made my progress quieter. I slid out along a branch about eight feet up, holding the rock tightly with one hand. I pushed my damp hair out of my face and gestured in Owen’s direction. His response was to take a couple of swipes at his face with his paw. For a moment I thought he hadn’t understood me and then he meowed loudly. He leaned forward and he meowed again and then again.
I was counting on the fact that even though he had killed two people, there was still some part of Jonas Quinn that was a good, kind person. My heart was thumping so hard, I was afraid it would shake me off the branch. The gash on my leg throbbed and the edge of the rock dug into my hand. Then Jonas came through the trees. I didn’t see any sign of the gun. Either he hadn’t found it after I’d kicked him, or he hadn’t bothered looking. Owen meowed once more and to my surprise held up one paw. Was he . . . acting?
Jonas looked around; then he sighed. “What are you doing way out here? You belong down with the other cats.”
He thought Owen was part of the feral colony. Owen continued to hold up his paw, his meows becoming more pitiful.
Jonas took a step closer. “I’ll come back for you,” he said.
It was now or never. I calculated the angle, hoped my math was right and then pushed myself partway up with my free arm and threw the rock with everything I had.
The rock struck Jonas on the side of his head, just above his right temple. His legs buckled and he collapsed. I waited for a moment to see if he’d move. When he didn’t, I made my way down out of the tree, slipping on the wet bark and almost landing on the ground next to Jonas. I had scraped the skin on one arm but I was all right. I could see his chest moving ,so I knew Jonas was breathing.
I grabbed Owen. “We’re okay,” I said. “We’re okay.” My makeshift bandage was soaked through with blood and my leg hurt but I knew I could retrace my steps back to the truck. I’d crawl if I had to.
I took two steps and Jonas’s arm snaked out and grabbed my ankle, pulling me down. I fell hard, knocking the wind out of me. Owen had jumped from my arms and stood by my head hissing as I struggled to catch my breath.
I kicked, gasping for air, and tried to roll over and sit up but Jonas was already on his feet. He grabbed my other leg and began dragging me across the ground. I yelled for help. I tried to grab onto anything, a tree root, a rock, a bush, but he was bigger and stronger.
He was headed for the stream. He was going to push me over the edge onto the rocks and into the water. Panic swirled in my chest. I used the burst of adrenaline to twist and kick even harder. It didn’t work. Jonas’s hands were clamped around my ankles like a set of handcuffs. I couldn’t see Owen anymore, but I could hear him. I wasn’t sure if he’d disappeared or was just out of my line of sight.
My face banged against the ground and I got a mouthful of dirt. I spit and choked. I couldn’t get away. I could try to pull Jonas over with me or I could do everything I could to survive the fall. I stopped kicking and flailing. I went limp, hoping Jonas might loosen his grip even a little. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking, but I promised myself that when he pushed me, I’d curl into a ball and cover my head with my arms. I’d probably break some bones, but as long as I stayed conscious, I’d be all right. I was a good swimmer and the water was high, but it wouldn’t be cold. I would get out of this.
We were at the edge of the gully. Jonas let go of one of my ankles. I tried to kick him but he dodged my foot.
“Get up,” he said.
I still had dirt in my mouth, my arms were scraped and I could feel blood running down my leg. I knew physically I was no match for Jonas but I wasn’t getting to my feet. I wasn’t helping him throw me over.
“No,” I said.
He bent down and grabbed my arm, pulling me halfway off the ground. Pain sliced through my left side but I forced myself to go limp again, and as my body slumped forward, I bit his hand.
He let go and I scrambled backward. Owen appeared claws out and hissing. When Jonas came toward me, I used my good leg to kick him in the stomach. I fell to my knees. Jonas doubled over for a moment and I thought he was going to go down again. He swayed but stayed on his feet and pulled the gun out of his pocket. So he had found it. I was out of options.
Jonas pointed the gun at me. I lifted my chin and stared up at him and behind me Marcus shouted, “Drop the gun!”
For a long moment Jonas didn’t move.
“Drop the gun,” Marcus called out again. “It’s over. Just put it down.”
Finally, Jonas nodded. He lowered his arm and leaned forward, setting the gun on the ground. I got to my feet, never taking my eyes off of his face. I felt Marcus’s strong arms go around me, pulling me against his chest.
“Are you all right?” he said.
I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice to work. Jonas took a step backward.
“Stay where you are,” Marcus said.
Jonas took another step backward.
“It’s over.”
Jonas nodded. “I know.” He looked at me. “Kathleen, tell Lachlan he was the great joy of my life. Tell him that Ainsley and Colin loved him.”
I realized what he was going to do but it was too late.
He jumped.
* * *
The next few hours were a blur. Marcus called for backup and wrapped his jacket around my shoulders. He climbed down to the water but Jonas was dead.
We drove
to the hospital and Marcus flashed his badge to get me seen right away. The gash on my leg and a cut on my forehead needed stitches. Dirt had to be cleaned out of all my scraped skin. The doctor said my ribs weren’t broken. Bruises were already darkening on my left side. But I was alive.
Marcus left Owen in the car with the window cracked and a chicken salad sandwich he’d gotten from the vending machine in the waiting room.
“How did you know where I was?” I asked while we waited for the nurse to come back with a prescription and instructions on how to take care of the cut on my leg.
It turned out that Owen had managed to respond to Marcus’s text with a string of nonsense letters and symbols. “I knew you had to be in trouble,” he said.
“What made you come out to Wisteria Hill?”
“Hercules. He was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. You know that photo you have on the refrigerator of Roma and Eddie the day they got married?”
I nodded. “He knocked it to the ground. Then he picked it up and brought it to me. I was looking for any clue in the house and he brought me the picture three times. Quinn’s car was parked up the street. I ran the plates. It was just too much of a coincidence and then I realized what Hercules was trying to tell me.”
I stretched out my arm and caught his hand.
“He killed Leitha,” Marcus said. “He was the only person I couldn’t eliminate. I figured it had to have been the tea.”
“It was,” I said. “He just pretended to drink it. Lachlan was his child, not his brother, Colin’s. Leitha figured it out.”
Marcus shook his head.
I swallowed a couple of times. “He killed Mike, too.”
He stared at me. His mouth worked but no words came out at first. “No,” he finally managed to say.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I told him everything Jonas had told me. “I don’t think it was just about the Finnamore money. I think he genuinely thought he would lose Lachlan if the truth came out.”
Marcus pulled one hand down over the back of his neck. “This is worse.”
“I know,” I said softly.
chapter 21
One of the nurses found a set of scrubs for me. They were a bit big, but they were clean and I didn’t have to leave in one of those gowns that flapped open in the back. Owen was stretched out on the middle of the backseat of Marcus’s SUV, asleep with one paw over his nose.
“I can’t believe he texted you,” I said.
Marcus shrugged. “He can disappear whenever he feels like it. Texting doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch.”
“Why did you text me in the first place? You always call.”
“I did call,” he said as he unlocked the passenger door and helped me get settled on the seat. “It went to voice mail. I’m guessing Quinn turned off the ringer as well.”
Owen lifted his head, murped hello and came from the backseat to the front, settling himself on my lap. He nuzzled my chin and I stroked his fur.
“You were very brave,” I told him, “and very smart.”
Marcus leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “So were you,” he said.
When we pulled into the driveway, Hercules came around the side of the house as though he’d been listening for the sound of the SUV. I opened the car door and Owen jumped from my lap to the ground. Marcus came and helped me to my feet. I leaned down over his protests and picked up Hercules. He studied my face, green eyes narrowed.
“I’m fine,” I said, kissing his furry head. “You saved us. Thank you for telling Marcus where we were.”
“Mrr,” he said, his nose touching mine.
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
We made our way around the house to the back door with Owen leading the way. Marcus unlocked the door and I had the feeling he would have carried me into the kitchen if I’d let him.
“I’m all right,” I said, reaching up to put my hand to his cheek. “I knew you’d find me.”
He pressed his lips together before he spoke. “I thought he was going to throw you over the side of the gully,” he said, a rough edge to his voice.
“He was. But I had a plan.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he started to laugh, wrapping both arms tightly around me. “I love you,” he said.
I felt my throat get tight at the thought that I might never have heard those words again. “I love you, too,” I whispered.
Marcus had to head back to Wisteria Hill and he had no intention of leaving me alone even though I protested that I had Owen and Hercules. Turned out, he’d already called Rebecca. She arrived at the door with one of her poultices for the tub, some poached salmon for the boys and a basket of still warm blueberry muffins.
Marcus kissed me twice, told Rebecca to call if I needed anything and instructed Owen and Hercules to watch me. Then he left.
“Oh, sweet girl, I am so glad you’re all right,” Rebecca said, and I saw the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. She took my hands in hers and turned them over to examine the scraped-raw skin. I saw her wince. She eyed my forehead. “Does that hurt?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not very much. They gave me some pills at the hospital.”
She reached up and brushed my hair back off of my face. Something about that simple gesture made me start to tremble.
“Jonas killed Leitha,” I said in a voice that trembled, too. “He killed Mike. Mike.”
“But he didn’t kill you,” she said.
I started to cry and she folded me into her arms and I cried for everyone who was lost and everyone who was still here.
* * *
I woke up looking worse than I felt. I discovered Marcus in the kitchen making coffee with two furry helpers with suspiciously fishy breath. All three of them were insistent that I needed to stay home.
I didn’t put up much of an argument. Marcus went out to feed the cats at my insistence. Maggie arrived with a cream for my bruises—Rebecca had been teaching Maggie the things Rebecca herself had learned from her own mother for quite some time now. Owen was overjoyed to see her. She praised both cats for their resourcefulness and bravery.
“I think you’re part cat yourself,” she said, hugging me as though she thought I might break. “You’ve used up at least three or four of your nine lives.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about Lachlan. Marcus had told me that he was with Johnny and Ritchie and Elena Gonzalez. The band had closed ranks around him. Eloise had defied her doctor’s orders about flying and would be arriving in the late afternoon. After supper Marcus and I were going to share the details of the story that weren’t public knowledge with them all, including the truth about Lachlan’s parentage. I was trying not to think about how painful that conversation was going to be, but secrets were why all of this had happened. Secrets were why Mike and Leitha—and Jonas—were dead.
I was sitting in the backyard in the sunshine just before lunch, with my leg propped up on an overturned laundry basket, while Maggie and Owen picked tomatoes, when Harrison and Harry came around the side of the house.
I started to get up but the old man raised a hand. “Don’t even think about moving,” he said.
I smiled up at him. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wanted to see for myself that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
For a long moment Harrison didn’t say anything. He took in the bandage on my leg, the stitches on my forehead and the various scrapes and bruises that were visible. Then he shook his head. “I’m so damn sorry for getting you involved in all of this,” he said.
I was shaking my head before he had all the words out. “No, no, no. Nothing that happened is your fault. Mike was my friend, too.” I put one hand on my chest. I thought about Jonas dragging me toward the edge of the gully. Those could have been the last moments of my life. They had been the last moments of Jonas’s life. I took a breath. “What I did was my choice. What Jonas did was his.”
* * *
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br /> One month and three days later, I was backstage at the Stratton Theatre, which was sold out for the Stars and Garters burlesque revival.
“They sound like a rowdy bunch,” Maggie said as we peeked out at the crowd. She grinned. “This is going to be fun.”
True to her promise to Roma, she was taking part in the show. She wore fishnets, high heels and a very short, barely there frilly white dress, and she was carrying a shepherd’s hook.
“Every guy out there is going to lose their mind over you,” I said. “The Little Bo-Peep in my book of Mother Goose stories did not look like this.”
Mary was acting as mistress of ceremonies. She passed us all in black satin, carrying a huge feathered headdress like they’d wear in a show in Vegas. “It’s not too late to be onstage, Kathleen,” she said over her shoulder.
“I already did my part,” I called after her.
Roma peeked out at the crowd, then grabbed my arm. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked. We were about fifteen minutes from the curtain going up.
I laughed. “As my mother likes to say, ‘If you have to dance with a bear, put on your high heels and tango.’ ”
“I take it that means yes?” Roma said.
I hugged her. “Times three!”
There were hoots and good-natured catcalls and waves of applause for each act. It was clear the show was a hit. I headed down to the dressing room to check on what Mary called our showstopper.
I’d taken two steps into the room when Brady grabbed my arm. “My shirt is missing half the buttons,” he said.
“Your shirt is fine,” I said. “Just put it on.”
I clapped my hands. “You have five minutes, everyone.”
“Kathleen, I can’t go out in public in this outfit,” Harry said in a low voice. His shirt was just like the one Brady had been complaining about and like Brady he didn’t have it on.
