Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat

by Patricia Fry

  George smiled widely at the thought of what was to come.

  The woman shouted, “Tell me who knows about this story!”

  “No one. I work alone. I don’t talk about my sources or the subjects of my articles until they go to press.”

  “Hmmm, a girl with…what’s it called? Ethics,” the woman said. “It’s a shame you’re gonna die without making a difference,” she spat sarcastically. She laughed and then moved in closer to Colbi, staring into her face. “And guess what? We’ll be runnin’ our business out of someplace where no one knows us. You, Miss High-and-Mighty, you didn’t make a difference and you’ll never make a difference.” She leaned back and turned to George. “Go get the gasoline. We’re gonna have us a little fire.”

  “Is everything packed?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We have everything we need in the car.” She turned toward Colbi. “We’ll just drive out of the garage and be on our way while you and those mangy cats fry.”

  “They’ll catch you!” Colbi shouted, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Oh no they won’t. We’ve been in this business long enough to know what we’re doin’. So don’t you worry none, missy, about that.” She laughed. “In fact, you won’t have to worry about nothin’ in another…” She looked at her watch. “…thirty minutes or so.”

  The woman stood, picked up the stool, and started to walk toward the door. “Get that lamp George and let’s get movin’.”

  ***

  In the meantime, Damon called Craig’s cell again. The detective didn’t answer, so he left another message. “Craig, this is Damon. I’m on my way to that place to see if I can find any sign of Colbi. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Damon drove about thirteen minutes before arriving at the neighborhood where the hoarders were known to have lived. It was dark. The streetlights were sparse and he had trouble locating house numbers. He drove slowly, looking at each house as he passed. According to the few numbers I can see, it should be this one or the one next door. Where are the house numbers?

  Hmm, there are lights on in the front of the green house. He drove forward. What’s that? A cat—two cats in the window of the green house. What to do … What to do… Damon backed his car up until he was parked two houses down from the green house. He killed the engine, reached into the glove box, and dug around for a flashlight. When he felt it in his hand, he pulled it out and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Just as he started to open the car door, he looked up and noticed that the lights at the green house had gone out. Suddenly, the garage door opened and a large, dark, new-model SUV pulled out onto the street. Damon ducked down out of sight as it sped past him and turned the corner behind him.

  Damon climbed out of the car and, trying to act casual, strolled toward the green house. I know I’m taking a chance snooping around here. I have no way of knowing if there’s anyone home—who left in the SUV, when they’re coming back. And he had no way of knowing that Colbi was minutes away from suffocating in a smoke-filled basement room.

  Chapter Seven

  I’m going to die, Colbi thought, wrapping one arm tightly around herself and holding the blanket up to her mouth with the other. I can’t let that happen. I’m not ready to die. I have to use what strength I have left to get that window out and free myself. Colbi pushed the mattress over to the wall under the window, folded it as high as she could get it, stepped up on it and began using the piece of plastic to scrape the hardened putty as fast as she could. Her arms were so tired, she could barely hold them up. She looked behind her and saw the flames growing. She was torn between expending her energy to try extinguishing the fire with the thin mattress and maybe her jacket, or work harder and longer on the window. She believed she was close to getting the windowpane out. If she could uncover enough of an edge of the window, she might be able to put a piece of the plastic under it and force it to break. At least the flames provide light, she thought. She almost laughed at the irony of it.

  Colbi scraped and scraped. As she worked, she whimpered. The pain. I’m so tired. I don’t know how much more I can stand. “God!” she said, straining to keep scraping at the putty. “God, I hurt. Gotta keep going. Gotta keep going,” she told herself out loud.

  In the meantime, Damon walked across the front of the house and listened for sounds coming from inside. Nothing. He strolled along one side of the house and around to the back. Everything looked pretty normal, except…Why is this window boarded up? he wondered. This is an underground room—a basement with a window just above ground level. You don’t see that much in this area. What’s that? He stopped to listen. A cat? Could be a cat living in the basement. Then he had an idea. “Colbi,” he said in a loud whisper. “Colbi.” He shined his flashlight toward the closed-off window.

  What’s that? she thought. A flash of light. I know I saw a flash of light outside this window. Are those evil people still here? Do they suspect me of trying to escape? What if they catch me? I’m so close to getting out of here, I just know it. I have to keep digging out this putty. She looked over at the fire. She felt the smoke starting to burn her eyes and throat. She began to cry.

  Damon was sure he heard something—it sounded like a whimper. “Colbi?” Damon said more loudly, panic in his voice. “Colbi are you in there?”

  It’s Damon! Colbi thought. No, it can’t be. There’s no way he could find me. I’m hallucinating. That’s what happens when someone is deprived of food and water…and sleep.

  “Colbi.”

  The light became brighter. She could see it shining against the blackened window pane. Then she heard knocking. Someone was tapping on the wood outside of the window.

  “Damon!” she said. She reached up and tapped on the glass with the piece of plastic she held in her hand. “Damon. I’m down here in the basement!”

  “Colbi. Oh my gosh, Colbi.”

  “The house is on fire—(cough, cough). It’s getting closer, (cough, cough, cough).”

  Fire, he thought. Good lord, what am I going to do? How am I going to get her out of there? I don’t have time to make a call. I have to act fast. “Hold on, Colbi,” he yelled. “I’ll get you out.” Damon jumped to his feet and ran around to the front of the house. He leaped over a low hedgerow, up and over a block wall and across two lawns to his car. He already had his hand on his trunk key. When he reached the car, he jammed it into the keyhole and opened the trunk. Where’s the crowbar? Dammit, where’s the crowbar? He so wished he’d put everything back in place after changing that flat tire a few days earlier. There it is. There it is. Damon grabbed the crowbar and headed at a dead run back to the basement window.

  “What the hell are you doing, kid?”

  Damon slowed down and looked up. There, standing just to his right was a large, burly black man holding a baseball bat down at his side. Shoot, now what? he wondered. But he didn’t spend much time trying to figure it out. All he could think about was Colbi and the fire that could very possibly snuff out her life if he didn’t act quickly. “Call the fire department, fast!” Damon yelled as he took off toward the back of the green house again. “The house is on fire. Someone’s in there,” he shouted as he ran.

  When he reached the window, he dropped down next to it and started prying off the boards with the crowbar. He then yelled, “Colbi, stand aside! I’m going to break the glass!” He raised the crowbar, but before he could smash it against the window, someone grabbed it from behind.

  “What are you doing?” the burly man insisted.

  “Someone’s inside. She’s been kidnapped and the place is on fire.” Damon glanced up at him. “Did you call the fire department?”

  “I am the fire department,” he said. “Stand back, kid.” And then, in a booming voice, he yelled, “Hey you in there, do you have something you can wrap around you?”

  “(Cough, cough)—a mattress.”

  “Stand up against the wall next to the window, and put the mattress over you,” he shouted.

  Lights came on in the house behind
them. “What’s going on out there?” a man yelled.

  “Call 9-1-1,” Damon shouted. “There’s a fire!”

  “Already did,” the black man said. Damon looked back in time to see the man swing the bat and break out the window. A rush of flames lapped at the oxygen blast. Despite the heat and flames, the man stood as close as he could and reached out with the bat. He poked frantically at the jagged shards of glass that were protruding from around the edges of the window opening. Damon swung into action using the crowbar to help.

  “Damon, (Cough, cough),” Colbi said. And then she was silent.

  “What’s her name?” the stranger asked,

  “Colbi,” Damon said.

  “Colbi, grab my hand!”

  She moved the mattress aside slightly and screamed, “I can’t. It’s too hot!”

  Suddenly, Damon heard a voice behind him. “Damon, what are you doing here?”

  He turned quickly. “Craig,” he said, “Colbi’s in there. She’s afraid to get under the window where we can reach her.”

  “Hold tight,” Craig said as he disappeared around the side of the house.

  The stranger took a step back and headed in the same direction as Craig.

  Just then, Damon heard sirens. He moved as close to the window as he dared. The heat was becoming intense. He tried to look in at Colbi, but had to back away. “Colbi,” he called. “Colbi!” What’s that? he wondered. Pounding. Someone’s pounding. Suddenly, the flames seemed to be sucked inward. He moved toward the window in time to see two firemen entering the basement room wearing turnout gear and oxygen masks.

  “She’s on the floor just to your right, under that mattress. Hurry!” Damon shouted.

  Damon heard one of them call out, “Got her!” The fireman wrapped a silver fire-retardant sheet around Colbi, picked her up, and headed quickly toward the door leading to the main part of the house.

  Damon ran around to the front of the house and watched as the fireman carried her out and laid her on a waiting gurney. A paramedic placed an oxygen mask over her face.

  “Good, they got her out,” the big man said. Then he asked Damon, “Was there anyone else in there—besides all those cats?”

  “I don’t think so,” Damon said, not taking his eyes off Colbi.

  “What was she doing in there, anyway?” the stranger asked.

  “She was kidnapped. She’s been there for darn near a week,” he said his throat tightening up with emotion.

  “How is she, kid?” Craig asked as he rushed to stand next to Damon. He put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and squeezed.

  Damon looked over at Craig and took a deep breath. “Don’t know.” He looked over again at Colbi. “She’s so still,” he said.

  “Yeah, but I see her chest heaving. She’s taking in that oxygen,” the burly man said.

  “Well, I’ll be. James Emerson!” Craig said, holding out his hand to the man.

  He looked up, “Sledge! What are you doing out here in this neck of the woods?”

  “I go where my cases take me,” Craig explained. “You live around here?”

  “Yeah, that’s my place next door.” He looked over at Damon. “I saw this young-un running through the neighborhood with a crowbar and figured he was up to no good. Almost used my bat on him. Ended up needing it to get that girl out.”

  “Sure do appreciate your help James,” Craig said sincerely. “By the way, this is Damon Jackson.”

  “Are you a cop, too?” James asked.

  Damon looked sheepish. “No sir.”

  “What were you doing out here snooping around, then?”

  Craig laughed. “Yeah, he’s gonna hear from me about that as soon as we know Colbi’s okay.”

  Suddenly, they heard her coughing. Damon looked over and saw Colbi rolling her head from side to side as if trying to get rid of the oxygen mask. A fireman removed the mask and lifted her shoulders up off the gurney, while a paramedic fitted her with a nasal cannula attached to an oxygen tank.

  Colbi coughed several times and blinked. She opened her eyes and began looking around as if trying to get her bearings. When her eyes met Damon’s, she held her hand out toward him. He glanced around to see if it was okay to approach her and when no one objected, he knelt down beside the collapsed gurney and grabbed her hand. Colbi held tight and began to cry.

  “Now try to stay calm, ma’am,” the paramedic said. “It’ll do you no good to get upset. You inhaled a lot of smoke.”

  “It’s okay,” Damon said in a soothing, quiet voice. “You’re safe now.”

  She closed her eyes and laid back down. A paramedic pulled the blanket up around her and then motioned for his partner. “Let’s get her to the hospital,” he said.

  “Stay with me, Damon,” she said weakly in a raspy whisper

  He looked at the paramedic, who said, “We’re taking her to Straley; you can follow us there.”

  Neighbors were congregating on lawns and porches up and down the street. Some stood inside their homes peering out the windows. One woman walked up to a deputy and said, “I knew something wasn’t right in that house. You could hear yelling all the time. The children in the neighborhood were frightened to death of those people.”

  Another woman asked, “What will become of those poor cats? You know, I don’t think they liked cats at all—not the way they talked about them. I think those cats were neglected.”

  Colbi focused her burning eyes on Damon. “You’re crying,” she whispered.

  “Am not,” he said, wiping one hand over his eyes. “Allergies,” he said. He then looked down at Colbi and said, “Damn, Colbi, you gave me a scare. I was so worried.”

  She reached up and pulled him to her, kissing his cheek. “My hero,” she said weakly.

  “Okay, let’s go,” one paramedic said, as he and his partner raised the gurney and started to push it into the back of the ambulance.

  “Don’t leave me,” Colbi pleaded.

  “I’ll be right behind you. See you at the hospital.”

  She smiled. She then raised herself up again and said, “Wait!” All she could manage was a loud raspy whisper.

  The paramedics stopped. One of them leaned down in order to hear her. “What is it, ma’am?”

  “The cats. There are cats in there. Please let them out. Save the cats.”

  Just then, a fireman who was walking past stopped. He looked down at Colbi and said, “We’re doing our best, young lady.” He looked over at the house. “I saw a lot of cats running away from the house. Some of them have made it out.” He patted her shoulder and started to walk away. He then turned and asked, “Do you know how many there are?”

  “Thirteen,” she said in a husky whisper. “I heard them say there were thirteen.”

  ***

  The next morning as the Iveys walked their guests to their car, Gladys reached out and pulled Savannah to her, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much for the hospitality, honey. It was wonderful spending time with you two.”

  “Do you have to leave so early, Mom? Would love another day to visit.”

  “I know. Me too. But Brianna has loose ends to take care of in LA and…” she smiled and tilted her head, her silver hair shimmering in the early morning sunlight… “Bob and I have a date tonight.”

  “Ohhhh.” Savannah smiled impishly. “Where are you going?”

  “One of those charity things he’s involved in,” she said slapping at the air. “But I get to wear my new black sequined gown, so I’m looking forward to it.”

  “What time will the gown be coming off, Mom?” Brianna asked, a devilish glint in her eye.

  “Oh stop, will you? Traveling with you is…”

  “What?” Brianna challenged. “A joy? An adventure? Gobs of fun? I’ll bet I’m more fun than Bob.”

  Gladys smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Get in the car, you cougar,” Brianna said with a laugh.

  “Cougar?” Savannah looked pu
zzled. “Mom, is Bob younger than you?”

  “Well, of course,” Gladys said playfully. “I’m not going to date some old geezer who uses a walker and wears diapers.”

  The three women laughed. Michael just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “Not to change the subject,” Gladys said, “but Savannah, that was a delicious cobbler you made last night.”

  “You had cobbler?” Brianna asked. “What kind?”

  “Berry,” Gladys said, “from berries they picked last summer.”

  “Sounds yummy.”

  “How was your dinner with Bud? Where’d you go?” Savannah asked.

  “He took me to Sapori d’Italia. It was wonderful,” Brianna swooned.

  “Oh yes, I remember when Michael took me there,” Savannah said. She looped her arm through Michael’s. “It was what—our second or third date?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” he said.

  “Romantic,” Savannah said.

  “You got that right,” Brianna agreed.

  Suddenly, everyone turned toward the highway.

  “Who’s that coming up here on that little motorbike?” Savannah asked.

  “Looks like Bud,” Michael said.

  Gladys smirked in Brianna’s direction. “You’re dating a biker?”

  Savannah glanced over at her sister in time to see a big smile forming on her face. “Hi Bud,” she said, rather breathlessly as he stopped the bike, set the stand, and pulled off his helmet. He stepped off the small bike and Brianna ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Just came to tell you goodbye,” he said.

  “Again? I thought we said our goodbyes last night,” she said in a flirty manner. “Anyway, I’ll be back next week to stay. We’ll only be thirty miles apart.”

  “Yeah I know.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. He stepped back; lingered while drinking in her pretty face. Taking her hand, he then walked over to Gladys and said, “Goodbye, Mrs. Jordan. Nice to see you again.” He looked from Gladys to Brianna. “Have a safe trip home.”

  Michael, Savannah and Bud waved as the duo climbed into the car and drove away and then watched as the car disappeared into a bend in the road.