And what a face it was. She didn't have to see his eyes to know this was her dreamer. He was unshaven, as if he'd been on the road a while and neglecting the razor. There were lines running down from the sides of his nose to his jaw line. His chin had a cleft, too deep to be considered a dimple. His eyebrows had been trimmed professionally in the past, she could tell, but they were beginning to grow strays again. He had sandy brown hair, slicked back with gel. On the seat next to him were a laptop computer, a cell phone, and his wristwatch, a gold metal band.
Cat looked down at her M&O-issued attire: a white shirt with M&O Security emblazoned in red on a patch over her right pocket. It would have to do. She took the flashlight off her utility belt and tapped his window with it.
The man startled awake and squinted in the beam of the flashlight. He rolled his window down.
"Yes? Can I help you?" he asked.
"I'm with a security firm patrolling these buildings," said Cat. "Mind telling me what you're doing out here at this time of night?"
"As a matter of fact, I do mind," he replied, peering up at her. His eyes were blue-grey, not black as they'd been in the dream. He was wearing a sport coat, a gold cross pinned to the lapel. "It's a free country. And I don't have to explain myself to a rent-a-cop."
Cat faltered. He did have a point. But she pressed on.
"I'm supposed to report any suspicious behavior to management," she declared. "And you're looking pretty suspicious. Unless you've got a good reason for sleeping out here in your car at this time of night, I'll have to report you."
The man appeared to regain his composure, and Cat got the impression she was watching him put on a mask as his demeanor suddenly changed.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you, miss. You woke me up, and I was a little crabby. I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I was waiting for a friend who lives in the apartment building down the street, and I guess he's taking his sweet time. We were going to get an early breakfast and then hit the links at the country club. It opens at five thirty. We like to get started when the sun comes up."
She knew his story was a lie, as the apartment building he waved to was barely occupied, with huge orange signs out front begging for tenants, and there were plenty of empty spots closer to it where he could have chosen to park.
"It's okay," Cat told him. "I'm no angel when someone wakes me up, either." The deep wrinkle on the left side of the man's face twitched when Cat said "angel."
"Sorry to bother you," she finished, stepping back.
"No matter," the man said, rolling up his window. He started his car and pulled out of the space. He paused at the apartment building, as if making a show of contacting his errant golf buddy, and then drove away.
Cat had the license plate: TGH 756. She went back to the guard booth and called Granny Grace. "Sorry to call you so early, Gran," she apologized. "I need one of your old friends at the Seattle PD to run a plate."
"Ha!" Granny Grace exclaimed. "Grace Detective Agency is back in business!"
"Can you get someone to run it right away?" Cat asked. "I was in this guy's dream, and he was in a car outside the condo building. There's a woman and a girl sleeping in the condo, Gran. I had to leave them there—"
"Excuse me? What are you talking about?"
"They won't budge. They say they're homeless, but I saw the girl on the plane to St. Louis, I know I did. She was the one in the dream."
"Wait. Slow down, Cat," Granny Grace said.
"We don't have much time, Gran. Get someone to run that plate. I've got to find out who that guy in the car was. I think he's after the girl. Gran, what if he's why she scribbled on that Raggedy Ann doll?!"
"Oh, God, Cat." Granny Grace was silent for a beat.
"My shift doesn't end for a couple of hours. I'll keep watch on them while you have someone run the plate."
Cat reassured Granny Grace that the girl and her mother had heat, blankets, food, and water. She also gave her the details of her interaction with the man in the car. Then she hung up the phone and sighed deeply.
She toyed briefly with the idea of bringing Mr. M&O into her confidence about their hidden condo inhabitants. His real name was Greg Swenson, she'd found out after their first encounter, and he seemed like a decent guy. But she didn't know him well enough, didn't know if she could trust him. He would most likely tell Tony, who would turn the mother and daughter out, or worse, turn them over to the police for breaking and entering. She couldn't let that happen. Besides, this was officially her first case, and she wanted to solve it herself.
Cat went back to her guard booth.
Two hours later, her phone rang. "I've got a lead on our car sleeper," said Granny Grace. "The car is registered to Dobson Rental. So unless he likes to rent cars for his morning golf trips, you're right, Cat, he's definitely lying."
"Thanks, Gran," Cat said. "My shift's about over, and I think I better head to Dobson. But first I'm going to talk to the woman and girl one more time and see if I can get them to move."
"Good idea," replied Granny Grace. "You probably spooked your stalker, though. He won't be back anytime soon."
"Let's hope not," Cat said. She hung up, grabbed her flashlight, and went back to the condo.
Inside, the girl was asleep in her mother's arms, but her mother was wide awake. Cat found her sitting up in the makeshift bed, a desperate look on her face.
"What do you want?" she whispered at Cat.
"I just want to talk," Cat said, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the girl. She motioned to the hallway. The woman gingerly moved her daughter off her lap and tucked her into bed without waking her.
"Please," the woman pleaded with Cat. "I asked you to leave us alone."
"Is someone after you?" Cat asked.
The woman didn't even flinch. "No. Of course not. Why would you say that?"
"Because I found some guy in his car out there on the street. It seemed like he was looking for someone."
This time the woman's face registered a shiver of alarm. "My ex," she hissed. "He's dangerous. Did you tell him we're here?"
"No, of course not," Cat responded. "Tell me who he is. I'll protect you."
The woman scoffed. "Protect me? If anything, you're going to put me and my daughter in danger. So I suggest you forget we're here and go on about your business."
Cat was at a loss for what to say to convince this woman to leave.
"I'll call my sister," the woman said. "She'll help me. Please, leave us alone. We don't need you meddling."
Cat tried to reason with the woman a few more rounds, but she wouldn't budge. She refused to leave the condo, and Cat couldn't get her to give any more information about her ex-husband.
It would soon be time for Cat's shift change, so reluctantly she left the woman behind and headed back to the guard booth. She put a call in over the radio to say she'd found the lock on the condo building busted. Greg Swenson intercepted her call.
"Broken, you say?" He sounded concerned and angrier than he had in the past. Gone were the Nancy Drew jokes. "You didn't try to inspect the building by yourself again, did you?"
She swallowed hard and decided to lie, abiding by the mother's wishes to keep their presence a secret. "Of course not," she said. "I know how to follow orders."
"That's good. I'm on my way over there now to sub for your replacement, who's called in sick once again. I'll check it out myself."
After they signed off, Cat found the number for Dobson Rental on her smart phone and called. It was too early; the office was still closed. She would probably have better results if she went there in person. However, she couldn't show up at the rental agency wearing her M&O uniform. She'd use her new PI credentials to get the rental company to tell her who that man was.
Greg got to the guard booth lickety-split, and Cat felt somewhat relieved that it would be him in the booth and fixing the lock, instead of the usual lackey, a woman who showed up with a box of donuts and fuzzy pink headphones that looked like earmuffs—when she di
d show up, that is.
Still, it was hard for Cat to leave the condo site. She had to fight her instincts to head up there, grab Ruthie and her mother, and take them to Granny Grace's, where they'd be safer. But would they? Her logic told her she needed to find out more before acting. Besides, that woman was clearly not going to trust Cat.
She arrived home to find Granny Grace in the kitchen with the longliner, who had clearly spent the night. So much for men being like stray cats, she thought. She only had time for polite pleasantries before heading to her room to change. Cat dressed hurriedly, glad that Granny Grace had been such a good influence on her wardrobe. She chose the most intimidating look she could muster.
Her grandmother rapped on the door just then, and Cat let her in long enough to brief her on more of the morning's events.
"Remember to approach them with confidence," Granny Grace instructed. "If you believe you're entitled to X and demand X, you'll get it."
As soon as it opened at 8 a.m., Cat walked into the office of Dobson Rental wearing a smart pants suit, her hair pulled back in a bun. She presented her PI license to the guy behind the counter, who thoughtfully tugged at his lip ring as he contemplated the implications of giving Cat what she asked for—information on who rented one of their cars.
"Never seen one of these before," he said. "Better check with the boss-o." He went behind the wall behind the counter, disappearing for a full five minutes. Then out came a gentleman whose white Dobson Rental shirt stretched over sizeable man breasts. Lip Ring followed him, appearing for all intents and purposes like the boy who went and got his father to deal with the grown-ups for him.
"Ma'am, I'm happy to give you information," said the boss. "That is, if my customer is being investigated for a crime, and the police are involved. Is that the case?"
"Not exactly," said Cat. "But he was questioned outside an abandoned building where there had been a recent break-in. He was sitting in your rental vehicle but led questioners to believe it was his personal vehicle." Cat didn't feel it was necessary to say who did the questioning, and implying that the rental vehicle could potentially have been used in a crime might give the manager reason enough to reveal the name.
He stared at Cat for a full minute as if turning the problem over in his mind and then sighed. "All right. I'll give you his name, driver's license number, and home address. But I can't give you anything else. His payment information is off limits."
"Of course," Cat said, keeping her calm demeanor. But inside, she was shouting, "Uh-huh! That's how we do this thing! I'm a PI now, so suck it!"
After a few minutes, the boss came back out with a file folder full of printouts from their computer system.
"It's funny," he told her. "Someone else just called asking about this same car. He really must be up to something."
Cat wasn't sure what to make of that. Maybe he’d got into something else while using the rental car? At any rate, she had her dreamer's name, Jim Plantation, and his address, which was... wait a second. He lived in southern Illinois, near her hometown, St. Louis. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Could this be the Jim Plantation? Jim Plantation of Plantation Christian Revival Church was powerful, wealthy, and well respected, having run one of the largest, most successful evangelical churches in the Midwest. Not at all the kind of man you'd expect to be caught in a lie on a Seattle street in the middle of the night.
She thanked the two men at Dobson Rental and bolted out of their office.
Cat drove Siddhartha as fast as she could back to the condo site. She pulled around back instead of going past the guard booth in front, where she knew Greg would be. He hadn't yet replaced the lock. With a sinking feeling in her gut, she said a silent prayer that her actions hadn't placed the girl and her mother in danger. Even with Greg in the booth, it felt to Cat now that she'd left them all too vulnerable.
Cat ran inside, took the steps two at a time, and burst into their room.
It was empty. No shoes, no pink roller bag, no makeshift bed. She'd been too late. Jim Plantation had recovered his missing angels. Cat had practically turned them over to him.
Scanning the length of the room, she stepped on something: a child's hair barrette, pink and glittery. She picked it up and stuffed it into her pocket.
Searching up and down for signs of anything—Jim Plantation's rental car, the mother and girl—she went back out to the street. There was nothing. Greg appeared in the doorway to the booth.
"What are you doing back here, and so dressed up? Job interview?" he asked, but he wasn't smiling.
"Did you see anything?!" she yelled. "Did you see anyone head into the condo building?"
"Nope," said Greg. "This place has been deader than a doornail. I was getting ready to fix that lock, just to give myself something to do."
"They're gone," Cat cried, realizing as she spoke that she was spiraling out of control. "There were people in that building, Greg. And now they're gone!"
"Cat, what are you talking about?"
"They're gone, Greg! He took them! You let him take them!"
He stepped toward her. She shoved him away, beating against his broad chest, knowing what she was doing was all wrong. But she couldn't stop. It felt too close in the booth, and she was so angry at herself, and she directed all that anger at Greg, beating on his chest with her fists. He was staring her down with an intensity that intimidated her, but he kept his arms at his sides, maintained his calm.
"Cat," he said. "Stop."
She put her arms down.
He spoke again, his voice measured. "Tell me the truth. Did you bust the lock on the building?"
Something inside her broke under his gaze, and she admitted, "Yes."
He looked away from her. After a few tense seconds, he returned his gaze to her and said, "You're fired."
Stunned, Cat backed out of the booth. She turned around and ran away from him, back to her car. She had to get away from him, get away from that place. She drove in a blur of tears and panic but managed to get home in one piece.
As soon as she parked Siddhartha in the garage, she slumped over the steering wheel, feeling defeated before she'd even begun. Her first PI case, and she not only blew it, but she possibly put a little girl in danger. And to top it off, she'd been fired from her lowly job as a rent-a-cop.
After a while, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Granny Grace.
"I didn't hear you come in," Cat said.
"You were sobbing too loudly."
"It's all a mess, Granny Grace. Maybe I'm not cut out for this."
"Come, dear. Let's go inside, have some tea, and you can tell me what's happened."
Cat let Granny Grace lead her inside. They sat at the thick wooden table with bench seats in the Terra Cotta Cocina. She sat in silence, collecting herself, while Granny Grace heated the kettle and then poured it over tea in an antique Chinese pot. She set two matching red ceramic teacups down on the table.
"Now, what did you find out at Dobson Rental?"
Cat told Granny Grace everything. Her grandmother listened intently, asking questions all the way. When Cat further explained that the mother and the girl were the same people she saw on the plane, Granny Grace exclaimed, "Serendipity! Or is it fate? Either way, it's a heck of a coincidence, Cat. Seattle's just one gigantic small town—our six degrees of separation are only three. But that's really something. One might think you were meant to take this case."
"Just so I could fuck it up?!" Cat wailed.
"You haven't gotten to that part yet," Granny said calmly. "Tell me what happened."
She told her the rest. Granny Grace heard her out, lips pursing when Cat described leaving the mother and girl behind in the condo building and her mouth shifting to an outright frown when she described returning to find them gone.
"What do I do next, Granny?" she asked.
"Well, what do you think you should do?"
Cat traced the wood grain in the tabletop with her fingernail. She saw herself on a plane heading
home.
"Fly to St. Louis," she said.
"You're going to throw in the towel already?"
"No. I need to track them down. I think he's taking them back to St. Louis, back home."
"Are you sure this isn't just a way to retreat back to your own home?"
"I'm sure. Think about it," Cat speculated. "He's a respectable member of the community, a celebrity, even. He's got enough of a hold on his wife and kid that they had to go into hiding to get away from him. So, back in his possession, they'll be made to play along. That's how it works. He's in control."
Granny Grace's face broke into a look of pride. "You're right, Cat. As much as I hate to see you leave, I think you're right. However, you're still working for Simon and Dave. It'll be their decision for you to continue the case."
Cat didn't want to waste any time. She set up a meeting with her clients for that afternoon. Both men were alarmed to hear that a woman and girl had been hiding out in their half-finished building. They made Cat tell them all the details to make sure the girl was okay, that the two weren't cold or hungry. She assured them that they had been fine.
"Maybe we should just call the police in Illinois," Simon suggested.
"What would you tell them?" asked Cat. "There's no proof of anything. You know how the domestic abuse dynamics work. If you can even persuade the police to go over to Plantation's house, he'll deny everything, and so will the girl's mother. She's clearly terrified of him, and he has all the power. Let me go back there. I'll find them and help them get somewhere safe first before involving the police."
Cat in the Flock (Dreamslippers Book 1) Page 8
