“Oh, Chester’s under the house again.”
Then she remembered hearing June call out for the cat last night.
“How long’s he been down there?” She dropped her hand when the older woman’s shoulder appeared to stoop. Lines on her creased face appeared to have deepened.
“Two nights. I call him, but he won’t come. I’m getting so worried, he hasn’t eaten, and it’s getting pretty cold at night.”
She bit her inside cheek so she couldn’t say anything about the cat and his spoiled childlike behavior. Although she had nothing against cats, Maggie preferred dogs. They were unselfish by nature and rarely caused the same worry. Chester was at least twenty pounds from lazy days and overeating, and in her mind, could stand to go a few days without a meal. Maggie sighed. June’s health wasn’t great, and another night of worry… well she hated to think what it would do to her.
“I’ll get the cat out.” She said it with a sarcastic edge in her voice. But June’s face brightened, so she apparently didn’t pick it up.
“Are you sure, dear? I mean she’s all the way under the house.”
She nodded. She didn’t trust her voice or what might slip out.
Side by side, with both dogs following, she and June walked to the old woman’s home, two houses down. This time, June’s stride was light and peppy as if that little bit of hope was all she needed.
“Oh, thank you so much. You know, I called the fire department, but they said they don’t come out for cats under houses. They said not to worry, it’ll come out when it’s hungry. That’s terribly rude, don’t you think, Maggie dear?”
She jammed her teeth together to hold back what she really thought. Truth be told, it was along the same lines as the fire department. Except now she had to get the cat. “You’re right. That’s not very nice of them.”
Chapter Six
The foundation of June’s bungalow was old fir post and beam. Maggie’s stomach flip flopped, and her hand trembled when she accepted the flashlight June handed her. She dropped to her knees and slid away the lattice board covering the opening to the crawlspace. She peeked into the pitch black, but saw nothing. Her heart pounded, and for a minute, she found it hard to breathe, but that was after her imagination dumped a preview of what else might be under the house. “Shit, don’t go there.” Maggie tapped the flashlight to her forehead. “Get those thoughts out of your head. Fucking cat.” For a woman who never swore, she was surprised at how easy it slipped out.
She shut her eyes for a second and then pulled off her coat and tossed it aside. She flicked on the flashlight and tried to hold the beam steady, but her trembling hand wouldn’t cooperate.
Maggie dropped down on her stomach and scooted under the house. Crawling on her knees was impossible in this closed-in space, so Maggie pushed with her foot and slid across the gravel and dirt while holding the narrow light in front of her. She paused a few feet in and scanned the area around her, but no cat, just shadows and darkness. “Heeere kitty, kitty… Chester, where are you?” She knew she sounded angry, but how did one manage to sound happy or caring at a time like this? She never could pretend. And the damn cat, if he was smart, he’d never answer, not to her. Then she heard a “meow.” Of course the mewing was way over at the far end of the crawl space. Maggie waved the flashlight and changed directions, pushing hard until the light danced over the orange calico huddled in the corner. Then she slowed and approached cautiously, the last thing she needed was for the cat to bolt deeper into the shadows. One dual goal—get the cat, and get the hell out.
“Chester baby, I’m coming.” This time she really did sound happy. She swapped hands with the flashlight, and the cat rose as if to bolt. “Oh no you don’t.” Maggie reached out and grabbed a handful of hair at the cat’s neck, and it went ballistic. She dropped the flashlight as Chester screeched and clawed. Maggie locked both her arms around the cat holding it against her chest. Then somehow grabbed hold of the flashlight and moved, keeping her face tilted away from the wildly striking, razor sharp claws as Chester struck out again and again. At least it was easier going back as the outside light illuminated the opening where June crouched.
“Is everything all right, dear?”
“Fine!” She yelled while holding onto the squirming demonic beast, clawing and biting, trying to break free. Maggie tried to hold his paws and spit out the cat’s fur swirling in clumps in her face, lips, mouth. The cat continued to hiss, spit, and claw.
Maggie slid out from under the house and dropped the flashlight. She got up on her knees holding the cat away from her as it sliced at her arms.
“Oh no Chester, it’s all right.” June reached for her cat and cuddled him to her chest, transforming the furry monster into a sweet angelic kitty, purring in the old woman’s arms.
“Oh Chester, you’re bleeding.” June’s voice had an edge of worry.
Maggie stood up and held her arms out in front of her. Sleeves rolled up, she glanced down at the tiny slits where blood oozed in several spots up her arm and then over to the orange tabby, with spots of blood dotting the orange furry strands.
“Oh don’t worry June, that’s my blood.” She glared at the cat. The cat turned its head toward her. She stumbled, and she’d swear the cat smiled and winked. She had nothing against cats, but knew with an absolute certainty she’d never in this lifetime own one.
“Oh, thank goodness. My, but he really did claw you good.” June’s concern for her animals was touching. She had a small dog, a cat, and a budgie in the house.
Maggie picked up her coat and carried it. She shivered as the tiny cuts began to burn. “June, if that cat goes under the house again, I’ll shoot it.”
June giggled as Maggie hobbled away.
“Oh stop teasing. Thank you so much for getting my baby out.”
June’s humble appreciation took some of the edge from her anger. Until she glanced back and met the cocky gleam in the cat’s eyes. You go under that house again, you’ll stay there till hell freezes over. This time, she winked at the cat, and then forced a smile on her face for June. “You’re welcome.” Maggie cut across the front grass with a forgotten Daisy nudging her leg.
“Maggie, do you want me to take a look at those cuts for you?” June called out.
She didn’t stop or look back. “No thanks, June. It’s just a few scrapes; nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of them myself.”
“Call me if you need anything, dear.”
She gave a passing wave over her shoulder as she hurried home. Never breaking stride, she snarled at her broken car, popped open her front door, and the gray weather stripping peeled off the doorframe and smacked her on the side of the head just as she crossed over the threshold. “Great, one more thing to fix in this damn rental.”
She flicked on the lights, locked the door behind her, and froze in front of the entry room mirror. She had several bloody nicks around her neckline and jaw and up both arms. Until she saw them, the sting wasn’t too bad. Now looking at them, they burned. She dropped her coat, stripped off her clothes, and hurried down the hall to the shower.
Steam filled the room, and she squealed each time the warm spray made a direct hit on one of the many wounds, and there were lots. But she figured it was the best way to clean them out.
After she toweled off, she applied antibiotic ointment on all the cuts. “Holy shit that hurts. Ow… ow… ow!” Hopping around on one foot, she panted until the sting receded. Then she held her arms stiffly as she took a good hard look at her wounded reflection. “Damn fucking cat. Why do I need to save the day?” But she already knew the answer. With any kindness paid to her by someone, she felt the need to pay back ten times, and then some. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. And as of late, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get past it.
Chapter Seven
Richard called seven times the next morning before Maggie went out, and she let everyone of the calls go directly to voicemail. She couldn’t talk to him, not after y
esterday. Because yesterday, they’d met at his lawyer’s office to discuss settlement prior to the divorce. She had been so worked up before the meeting because of their illicit tryst against the kitchen wall—afraid Richard would bring it up and somehow block the divorce.
She chewed on a piece of nail hanging from her thumb. “Think, think.” But try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of what happened in that boardroom as she sat beside her lawyer, across from Richard. And the only thing she was clear about was how much she hated that God awful painting of some ancient battle and resulting carnage that appeared to take up half the wall in that male dominated boardroom. She remembered not one word of what was discussed, decided, and agreed upon.
Today her head was clear, thank goodness. Maybe this was her wake-up call. And while Diane, a state trooper and her friend, hadn’t questioned her yet on what came out of yesterday’s meeting, she knew before this day was over, Diane would know everything.
A branch snapped over to her left. Dressed in full cammie gear with a loaded paint ball gun in hand, Maggie peered over the log she crouched behind. She stared into the thick brush but couldn’t see anything. Then something rustled the underbrush about a hundred yards in front of her. Her hands were damp as she gripped the loaded gun. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the adrenaline roared long and loud in her ears.
Diane told her when she picked her up this morning this was exactly what she needed. It would be therapy and so much fun. But crawling around in the dirt and hiding behind a rotted out log as something tickled her back was not in her idea of fun. “Oh this is just great.” Branches snapped, and it sounded right in front of her. She peeked over the top of the log just as two large guys approached all decked in faded green cammie gear. She suppressed the urge to giggle, and propped her loaded gun on the log and waited for them to come closer. Then she pulled the trigger and nailed both of them boom, boom, with bright orange paint dead center in their chest.
“Yah, yah, got you, now you’re dead.” Maggie held her gun high over her head and jumped up. Then, what the hell…? Whack, whack. Both the big guys battered her with paint balls. Maggie dropped her gun and covered her head with her arms to ward off the stinging welts as they continued to fire, and she ran.
Maggie limped and yanked a twig from her hair as she followed Diane, a short compact woman with a boyish brown cop cut, to her brand new Toyota SUV.
“Jesus girl, you don’t mess around with those SWAT guys like that, they really take it personally.”
Maggie said nothing, remembering how Diane had forewarned her that morning about the SWAT guys they were playing war with today. They the extra-tough type—the ones you sent into a problem scenario no one else wanted to handle. And for some reason, they took offense to Maggie hiding under the log waiting… their quote to Diane… to “ambush them.”
The SWAT guys said it was nothing personal, when they smiled and sauntered away a few moments ago. Assholes, Maggie wanted to yell at them, but stifled the urge when Diane yanked her from the small frame clubhouse of Sequim’s paintball club.
Maggie snorted in disgust and massaged her battered shins while Diane drove out of the parking lot.
“Maggie, how many times have I told you? You don’t mess around with guys like that. They operate on their own agenda. They don’t believe the same rules apply to them. Remember our little stint? We didn’t follow the rules. Lord, when I think back on what you and Marcie did, gathering that marijuana for Dan, you’re lucky you didn’t end up in jail.”
Maggie was aware, but she couldn’t honestly remember all the details when she helped Marcie get Dan’s marijuana. After his threats, it was the only way to protect her husband and Sam from being framed for some unspeakable crime. She was forgetting a lot of things lately.
Then she remembered the SWAT guys talking this morning about the incident at Waco, and the fact it would never happen to them. Diane translated their meaning when Maggie questioned her as they left the clubhouse after gearing up. Many cops believed the same rules civilized societies deemed to live and abide by, didn’t apply to them. And even worse, a few of them honestly believed they were entitled to make up their own rules.
“Oh, okay,” was all Maggie could say.
“Are you all right? You know you still haven’t told me what happened yesterday.”
“I did something stupid.” Maggie looked straight ahead through the unusually clean windshield.
“Wait, don’t say anything yet.” Diane pressed the brake and pulled a U-turn on the fairly quiet highway, driving across two lanes, and into the parking lot of the Road Side Pub. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a glass of wine to hear this.”
Maggie said nothing but chewed on that same piece of nail on her thumb as Diane pulled into the empty gravel lot and parked.
Chapter Eight
“I can’t believe you did that.” Diane rested her forearms on the small corner table beside the warm fire blazing in the dining room section of the cozy pub. It was mid-afternoon on Saturday, so the dinner crowd hadn’t arrived yet. Except for the two guys watching the sports channel above the bar, they were the only two in the place.
“You accidentally took a sleeping pill before going to his lawyer’s office?”
“Ah yah, that would pretty much sum it up.” Maggie couldn’t remember Diane’s deep brown eyes ever looking more shocked.
“Did you snore? Whoa, wait. What are you doing taking sleeping pills to begin with?”
This was the part Maggie dreaded. None of her friends were aware she’d started taking pills for anxiety during the day and pills to sleep at night. Maybe that was why Richard kept calling. He must suspect something.
“I didn’t want to tell you this. I meant to take Ativan for my anxiety, but I mixed up the pills.”
“What! Why are you taking anxiety meds too? Pills! What the hell, Maggie?! You know better. After what we’ve seen out there with drug users and addictions—weren’t you paying attention? You know as well as I do that prescription drugs are as addictive as illegal narcotics, and they are just as destructive. Do you really want this lecture?” Diane leaned closer glancing over her shoulder when the waitress set the table behind them.
Maggie glanced down at her short finger nails, the ones she’d begun chewing down, something she hadn’t done since she was an awkward teenager. Diane was staring at her when she looked up. Her lips paled into a thin line as if ready to launch into a lecture—something scathing that’d leave her poor ears ringing. So Maggie held up the flat of her hand and shook her head. “Don’t, Diane.”
“Sorry. I’m sure the last thing you need right now is someone else coming down on you. But I need to know all the pills you’re taking and how long you’ve been taking them.”
“Since I left Richard, and it’s just the sleeping pills and Ativan.”
“Does Richard know?” Diane lowered her voice so the lingering waitress wouldn’t hear.
“No. You’re the first.”
“Okay, what about Ryley? I mean, has he seen you popping pills?”
“I only take them when I need them. Not that often, so stop worrying. You’re making me sound like some irresponsible mother. And Ryley’s fine. He’s with Richard right now, anyway.” Maggie picked up her water glass and sipped.
“All right. So tell me what happened with the lawyers.” Diane appeared to relax and lifted her glass.
“My lawyer warned me about keeping my cool and playing fair. Well, he got his wish. I didn’t say a word. In fact, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open, I was so relaxed. I don’t remember what was talked about or what was agreed. But I do remember my lawyer nudged me a couple times. And the way Richard watched me—”
“What?” Diane raised both hands in the air.
“I don’t know. But I know he suspects something.” Her heart ached, and she squeezed a fistful of her brown sweatshirt above her heart. “He’s going to try and keep Ryley.”
“Did he say that?”
&nb
sp; “No.”
“Well, what did he say to you?”
“Nothing. I didn’t give him a chance. I left right after the meeting. Grabbed a cab. He keeps calling. But I haven’t called him back.”
This time Diane’s face softened, and her mud brown gaze reached across the table with a seriousness that only appeared when she was in cop mode. “Maggie, I love you. And I don’t want to hurt you, but you need help. You’re not being fair to Richard. Call him back. Don’t play games. You and I both know he doesn’t deserve this silent treatment. No one does.”
When Maggie tried to interrupt and defend herself, Diane waved her hand gently in front of Maggie’s face, before reaching across the table gripping her wrist in a way to stop her from talking.
“No, please let me finish. I think you need to hear this. And remember I’m your friend, but I’m Richard’s too. And I’m the one standing in the background watching both sides with clarity. You and Richard both suffered a horrible loss no parent should have to endure. But Maggie, you need to pull it together for Ryley. You seem to be forgetting about him from the little bit I’ve seen recently. Richard can see how much Ryley needs you guys. And he’s pulled himself together for Ryley. So right now maybe Ryley would be better off with Richard. I just mean, until you clean yourself up.”
Maggie felt the blood drain from her face and her heart slice open as if sharp claws of betrayal were cutting into it. How could Diane turn on her? She slid her chair back, but Diane grabbed her arm again.
“No, sit down. And get that wounded puppy look off your face. As your friend, I’m entitled to set you right. That’s what friends are for. We should be able to say anything with love. When you do something stupid and don’t see things clearly, good friends are there to help guide you back onto the right path, even if it’s a hard kick in the ass.
From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone Page 26
