by Kim Pritekel
“Damn it,” she murmured, knowing full well she’d never be able to leave. “I’ll say hi. That’s all. I’m here anyway to see Matty, I’ll just say hi and head home.”
Pep talk complete, Catania headed down the long hall, the kitchen sounds getting louder, as well as the incredible smells of dinner being prepared. The closer she got, the wider her smile grew, no matter how hard she tried to bring it in. She reached the archway and stopped, leaning her shoulder against it as she watched.
It was one of a handful of times she’d seen Ally out of her diner uniform. She wore jeans that fit her petite form beautifully, showing off a shapely behind that Catania’s eyes fell to. Guiltily she looked away before she was busted, clearing her throat to announce her presence.
Ally turned from where she stood at the counter carefully slicing open a long loaf of French bread. “Hi!” She dropped the knife on the cutting board and hurried over to Catania, taking her in a quick but tight hug.
She accepted the hug, surprised by it. She squeezed the small woman, noting she very much liked her perfume, before releasing her. “How’s it going?”
“Great.” Ally gave her the warmest smile Catania had ever seen from her. “You’re actually just in time. I need a taster.”
“Oh yeah?” she followed the perky younger woman over to the stove where a massive pot was simmering. It smelled absolutely divine. “What’s for dinner?” she asked, though it was completely unnecessary as she knew the smells of her childhood well.
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” Ally said, reaching into a nearby drawer and pulling out a spoon. She dipped it into the pot of fragrant red sauce and brought it out, using her own cupped hand to catch any drips.
“And, with who my mother is, you expect me to give you an opinion on your sauce, huh?”
Ally gave her a side glance that sent delicious little chills down Catania’s spine. “Who do you think gave me the recipe?”
“Uh,” she managed, bringing up a hand to rub the back of her neck. “Got it.” She leaned her head in to shorten the distance Ally would have to lift the spoon. She blew over the hot offering before slurping the thick sauce into her mouth. She closed her eyes at the warm, familiar notes of her mother’s homemade sauce.
“Good?” Ally asked softly, her tone hopeful.
All Catania could do was nod as she relished the tastes and spices coating her tongue. “Mmm hmm.” Giving another nod and thumbs-up, she smiled. “Excellent.”
Ally clapped her hands like a small child after putting the used spoon into a pan that had other dishes to be washed later. “I’m so glad. Yay!”
Catania chuckled, enjoying the happy energy that Ally exuded. In the time she’d known her, she’d never seen her look so happy, so playful, so…free.
“What?” Ally asked, looking down at the deep green sweater she wore. “Did I get something on myself?”
Catania shook her head, wiping the soft, relieved expression she had on her face off. “You’re going to spoil these folks, you know. From what I gather from my brother, your food is way better than Karen’s was.”
Ally’s smile was sweet. “I’m so glad. I enjoy it. Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
Without a word, Ally quickly turned down the burner and grabbed Catania’s hand, tugging her out of the kitchen and a short way down the hall to the rounded door. She unlocked it and turned to her before entering. “I want you to see what I’ve done.”
Catania hadn’t seen the apartment since Thanksgiving night when she’d initially showed it to Ally and proposed the idea for the job. Now, she was in awe. She’d turned the tiny space upstairs into a cozy little living room. A small love seat was a perfect fit in the nook beneath the stained glass window, a scarred entertainment center on the opposite wall with a nineteen-inch flat screen tucked into it. A warm, welcoming rug was placed on the center of the wood floor, all the colors from the window represented.
“This is adorable,” Catania said, grinning at her. “Where did the furniture come from?” she asked. She knew it was possible it belonged to Ally and she’d had it stored somewhere, but had the feeling Ally moved into this place with not much more than a few trash bags of clothing.
“Lizzie and Marla from the diner,” Ally said softly, looking around with pride in her eyes. “They surprised me with all this.” She indicated the living room furnishings. “And then,” she continued, moving on toward the stairs, Catania following. “Lizzie’s son gave me his old bed and some dishes. I guess he and his girlfriend moved into a larger place, so….”
They headed into the lower area, equally as adorable as above. The bed was black wrought iron, a double. It had a colorful quilt on it and a handful of throw pillows. More throw rugs adorned the floor and decorative pictures hung on the walls. But, what caught Catania’s attention were the two shelves mounted on one of the walls created to close off the bathroom. On one shelf, near the bed, were three snow globes.
Walking over to them, she glanced over at Ally, who stood near the small table for two butted against the wall near the stove. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
Catania reached out and took one in hand. It had a plain white porcelain base with a few faded butterflies painted on it. Inside the glass globe was a park bench with a little girl sitting on it, her blond hair blowing back from her face and a small, orange kitten on the bench next to her, batting at a butterfly that was fluttering by, the two ever-frozen in the age-old game of prey and predator.
“I got that one when I was twelve,” Ally explained softly, suddenly standing beside Catania. “It was the last thing my aunt gave me before she died.”
“It must mean a lot to you.” Catania wanted to take a slight step away, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable with the closeness of Ally’s presence. She felt her heart pounding and breathing hitch. She tried to push it all down and focus on the object in her hands.
“It does, but it has nothing to do with my aunt. You see, I used to stare at the little girl and pretend she was me. I always wanted a cat, too.” She gave Catania a small smile. “Never got one. Anyway, I would pretend I was sitting on that park bench. When I was little, I used to pretend that I was waiting for my mom to come get me. Then, as I got older, some knight in shining armor to come save me.”
“And now?” Catania asked, meeting Ally’s gaze.
“Now.” Ally let out a relieved-sounding breath. “Now, I just see her sitting on that bench enjoying the day, watching the butterflies and smelling the flowers.”
“Free.”
“Free.”
Catania handled the snow globe as though it were a priceless piece of china as she placed it back on the shelf.
“I’m sorry I lied to you.”
She looked back to Ally at her soft words. “Lied to me?”
Ally nodded, seemingly nervous as she tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Yeah. About living in that house with a boyfriend.” She gave her a shy smile. “I really hate lying, and really wanted to tell you the truth.”
Catania shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Ally. I’m just glad it worked out and you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
Catania could feel the air in the room growing heavy, so much so that she could barely take a breath. She could feel Ally’s body heat so close, almost burning her with its intensity. She felt so lightheaded she worried she’d pass out. In the moment she focused on Ally’s eyes, she saw so much vulnerability there and wanted to kiss the softest looking lips she’d ever seen. She couldn’t.
Stumbling backward a few steps, she found herself banging into the wall, which startled her. Pushing away from it, she cleared her throat and moved past a confused-looking Ally so she was closer to the stairs and escape.
“Um, I better get going,” she stuttered. “Dinner soon. I’m sure the natives are hungry.” With those lame words and an even lamer smile, she bolted.
****
Catania sat in her Jeep
outside of the Aberdeen House, staring off into space even as she froze in the cold evening. Shaking her head yet again, she ran her hand through her hair.
“A fourteen-year-old boy,” she blew out. “I ran like a goddamn fourteen-year-old boy from a woman who is five foot three or four, maybe one hundred and twenty pounds.” She hung her head and let out a pitiful chuckle, that very body she described passing in front of her mind’s eye. “Pathetic.”
She raised her head and looked at the house again. For a moment she considered going back in and, if nothing else, offering to help serve dinner. Deciding against it as she wasn’t ready to see Ally so soon after her intense reaction to her, she reached down and inserted the key into the ignition and got the large Jeep started.
Deciding she didn’t want to go home right away and definitely had no desire to cook, she put in a quick order for a pizza to be delivered, then pulled away from the curb. She drove around, wasting time until her dinner arrived. She knew if she were at the apartment, all she’d be able to think about was Ally, as she knew when she stepped inside it would smell clean and fresh from the blonde’s amazing cleaning chops.
She drove down the street where Randy’s was located, and even though she knew she wouldn’t be seeing Ally heading out, all bundled and fighting against the early December weather, she still looked for her anyway.
“Stop it, Catania!” she yelled, startling herself at how loud her frustration erupted. She let out an equally loud growl as she stopped at the stop sign, flipping the turn signal to take a left. Something stopped her.
Jeep idled, the turn signal clicking lightly with each outside blink, Catania looked across the street out her side window. She saw a huddled figure slumped in the recessed doorway of a closed antique store.
Waiting for a red Ford Focus to pass, Catania whipped a U-turn and parked at the curb in front of the brick building. She reached across the cab and rolled down the passenger side window.
“Hey! Squirrel?” The huddled figure barely moved. “Squirrel, you okay?” When the small body curled farther in on itself, Catania rolled the window back up and turned off the Jeep.
Climbing out, she trotted around the front, headlight beams spotlighting her as she passed in front of them. She slowed when she reached the teen, squatting down. Squirrel was huddled in the doorway in her ever-present light blue and gray windbreaker. She was shivering violently.
“Hey,” she said softly, reaching out a hand to touch the teen’s arm. “Jesus, you’re cold. Squirrel, look at me.”
It took a moment, but finally the teen raised her head and met Catania’s gaze.
“Oh my god. Come on.” Catania stood, reaching down for Squirrel’s hand, which was eventually offered to her. She pulled the girl to her feet. “Can you stand? Are you okay?”
Squirrel nodded, though her movements were slow, almost as though she were in a daze. “Just great.”
Catania gave her a ghost of a smile. As they made it toward the Jeep, Squirrel’s face became more visible. “Jesus, Squirrel,” she whispered, lifting a hand and leaving a featherlight touch to the darker bruising of a shiner, and cuts on her full bottom lip and her left nostril. “Come on,” she said, looking around to see if anyone was around, watching. “You’re coming home with me for the night. Get you out of this cold, anyway.”
Both loaded into the Jeep, Catania felt nervous as she drove them to her apartment. She knew she should be taking Squirrel to the police station or to the protection of CPS, as it seemed obvious she didn’t exactly have a good or permanent home situation. But, as cold as it was and after the incredibly disturbing dream that Squirrel had starred in, she felt her protective instincts kick in.
Catania pulled into her parking spot at her building, glad that it looked like she’d beat the pizza delivery person. She helped Squirrel out of the Jeep. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you warm and fed.”
Nearly ten minutes later, Squirrel sat on the hearth of the fireplace after Catania had gotten a fire going. Her clothing was humming in the washing machine as she drowned in a borrowed pair of flannel pants and a sweatshirt.
“Alright, kiddo,” Catania said, opening the box of pizza on the kitchen table. She’d only ordered a small, not expecting a dinner guest. “Food.”
Squirrel joined her, taking a slice and plopping it on the plate Catania provided, her own pizza on her plate as she sat across from her. She looked at the girl, who picked at her pizza.
“How are you feeling?”
Squirrel glanced up at her and shrugged a shoulder as she blew her cheeks out, looking for a moment like her namesake. “Okay, I guess. Why did you bring me in here?”
“Why do you think?” Catania asked, tearing off a bite of pizza with her teeth. She chewed thoughtfully as she studied Squirrel’s new injuries. “We should clean those,” she said after swallowing and taking a sip from her Coke. “You’ve got some answering to do, kiddo.”
Dark eyebrows drew as Squirrel sat back in her chair. “What? Why?”
“What is your situation? Hmm? Where are your parents? Why are you on the street, and who hurt you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Squirrel said, tossing a piece of pepperoni that she’d picked off to the plate. She eyed Catania for a long moment before very sage words left her lips. “Have you ever wondered what life is really about? Why we’re here and just how we’re supposed to change things?”
Catania studied her for a long moment before she nodded. “Actually yes. I have wondered that.” She smiled. “My hope is, I’m supposed to change everything.” She grinned. “Pretty deep words for a…how old are you?”
“Sixteen. And yes, I am deep.” Squirrel returned the grin. “Real deep.”
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” Catania asked, grabbing a second slice from the box.
“All you need to know about me is I won’t steal from you.”
“Oh, nice,” Catania said with a bark of laughter, considering the last time they’d seen each other. “Why should I not run you in right now as a runaway, huh?”
“How do you know I’m a runaway?” Squirrel challenged. “Hmm? How do you know I didn’t get kicked out?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Or, how do you know that I’m not a vampire and wander the streets at night?”
“Because I’ve seen you during the day.”
“Good point. Okay, how do you know this isn’t by mutual agreement with my folks? I’m gone, they know that, so give me my space.”
Catania shook her head and waved her off. “Alright, smart-ass. Eat your dinner so I can get you a bed made on the blow-up mattress.”
****
A soft sigh escaped Catania’s lips as she readjusted her head on the pillow. Her body began to settle into a slightly new position when her eyes popped open. Looking around, she was surprised to see the sun was already up and she actually felt rested.
She sat up in bed when she remembered she had company. Glancing toward the closed door to her bedroom, she listened. The apartment was very quiet. Pushing the blankets off of her legs, she slid them over the side until her feet hit the floor, then she stood. Stretching her arms high overhead, she let out a little squeak before heading to the door.
Turning the knob, she slowly pulled the door open, listening closely for anything out of place. Nothing. Stepping out into the hall, she glanced into the bathroom, which was empty.
“Squirrel?”
She made her way to the second bedroom and spied Matteo’s blow-up mattress that he used on his “visits.” It was empty, the comforter, blanket, and sheets she’d provided for her guest the night before neatly folded and placed atop it next to her equally neatly folded flannel pants and sweatshirt.
“Squirrel?” she called out again, heading farther into the apartment.
The TV was off, everything left as it had been the night before. The dryer proved to be empty, as well.
Hands on hips as she stood in the center of the living room, Cat
ania let out a breath. “Okay. Guess that’s that.”
Chapter Eleven
Catania stroked her chin, eyebrows drawn as she scanned the images on the screen before her. Where there wasn’t an image she read through the details of the case. She’d seen a couple pictures that she’d stopped on after doing a double take, but no, the woman’s face was burned into her brain.
Still, nothing.
“Damn,” she whispered, letting sitting back in her chair. She reached absently for her coffee, sipping from the warm brew, never taking her eyes from the screen of her computer.
What’s the common denominator?
Catania jumped, startled. She glanced around the near-empty room, looking for Matteo. His voice had been so clear, so loud in her ear. All she saw was a fellow detective sitting at his desk across the room talking quietly on the phone. It was early on a Sunday morning and the place was quiet, desk lamps off, computer screens dark, and empty mugs sitting on desks waiting to be filled with bad coffee.
Hand to her chest, she shook off the weirdness she felt and returned her focus to her search. She did, however, take to heart the words.
“What’s the common denominator,” she repeated, chewing on her bottom lip as she tapped the edge of the desk with two fingertips.
As though of their own accord, both hands raised and went to the keyboard. She quickly typed in her search criteria. Instantly, the numbers of results went from the thousands to thirty-two.
“Okay,” she murmured, again scanning images and reading case details.
The fourth profile down, she stopped, a chill heading straight down her spine. Staring back at her was forty-six-year-old Megan Murphy. She was a resident of Tucson, Arizona since 2005. She’d been declared a missing person August 3, 2015.
The woman she was studying was definitely the woman that had been found in the field on Hwy 50. Her hair was longer in the picture, her eyes a grayish-green. They were full of life.
