Karen Anne Golden - The Cats That 05 - The Cats that Watched the Woods (10 page)

She didn’t appear to have any broken bones. He prayed she didn’t have internal injuries, because then he couldn’t help her. All he could do now was give her something for the pain. If she awakened by the next morning, he’d figure out what to do then.

He was sure about one thing. He wasn’t going to seek outside help for two reasons: One—that short drug dealer was bound to come back and get the Oxy. Two—he was not giving up his location to the authorities. He’d get rid of the dealer first, and worry about the second later.

“Waugh,” the larger Siamese cried.

The man grunted. He opened the carrier gate, but the two cats stayed inside and refused to come out. That was okay. He needed to give the woman something for pain, and he didn’t want them in the way.

He reached inside his camouflaged shirt and pulled out a syringe. He needed to inject the drug in her hip. He gently rolled her on her side. She moaned in pain. From his back pocket, he pulled out his folding hunter’s knife and cut a slit in her jeans. He then used several alcohol pads to sterilize his hands.

Tearing the plastic wrapper off the syringe, he stuck it in the glass ampoule, measured the required dose of morphine, and stuck the needle in her hip. She was so petite, he was afraid to give her much. The narcotic would help ease her pain. She needed to sleep to heal her injuries. He moved her back on her back and vowed to check on her later. He couldn’t stay with her. He had too many fish to fry before he’d come back.

When the man left the room and closed the door, Scout and Abra leapt out. They cautiously circled the room, then jumped on the bed. Abra began licking Katherine’s face. Scout stood tall and paced back-and-forth at the end of the bed, waiting to do ferocious battle with anyone who tried to hurt Katherine. She loved her human as much as she did her sister, her littermate Abra. Although the man from the woods smelled terrible, Scout sensed he was trying to help them. It was the other man the Siamese had to worry about.

Chapter Eight

Katherine thought she heard Abra whisper something in her ear. The cat’s whiskers tickled when she brushed against her face. But cats can’t talk, Katherine rationalized.

She lapsed into a dream about an event that happened in another place and time—before she rescued Abra from the cruel magician. Scout and Abra had been stage performers in the Catskills, working for Harry’s Hocus-Pocus act, before Katherine provided their forever home. Now an image nagged at her subconscious, something about when Abra was stolen.
But I wasn’t there
, Katherine thought.
No one knows what happened to Abra but Abra herself.

“I can tell you,” the cat said. “Raw.”

The cat’s voice in the dream trailed off. Katherine woke up and glanced around the room. She weakly tried to get up, but felt as if iron weights were holding her down. It was night, and the room was pitch-dark. She could hear the cicadas’ keening whine rise, subside, and then fall silent. She heard a movement in the far corner—a rustling sound. Then a shape slowly approached the bed. A giant crow landed and perched on the footboard. It shrieked, “Caw!”

I must be out of my mind,
Katherine thought.
I’m dead or dying. I hurt all over. What’s happening to me?
She heard a distorted grumbling. It was a hoarse male voice.

Katherine opened her eyes for a split second, then quickly closed them. The huge man was standing, leaning over, looking at her. His face was terribly disfigured. The entire left side of his face was a mass of scars; his left eye was missing. She cringed and tried to move.

He mumbled something and then held a bottle of water to her lips. She took several sips and wanted more, but he took it away from her.

“Want Jake,” she managed to say, before lapsing into another dream.

Chapter Nine

Stevie Sanders turned into the lane that led to Townsend’s house, rounded a curve, and nearly hit a disheveled woman limping toward him. She was flailing her arms wildly. He jammed on the brakes and the woman collapsed in front of his truck.

Getting out, Stevie rushed over to the woman and then stood back, surprised. “Damn, sis. What are you doin’ out here?”

Barbie sat up. “Thanks for askin’ if I was okay. What are
you
doin’ out here? Whatever the reason, I don’t care. I just want you to take me out of this hell hole and get me to the nearest McDonalds. I’m starvin’ to death.”

Stevie helped her up. “Let’s get you in the truck.”

“I can hardly walk,” she said, taking his hand. “I twisted my ankle.”

Stevie helped her up to the running board, then pushed her into her seat.

“Ouch,” she cried, then, “Got any water?”

“Yeah,” Stevie said, moving to his toolbox in the back. He pulled out a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

Stevie climbed into his seat and started the engine. “Listen, I’ve got to pick up something I left at the house.”

“What?” Barbie shrieked. “Are you insane? We ain’t goin’ to Leonard’s house.”

“It will just take a minute.”

“You can’t get back there. Katz wrecked her car; it’s blocking the road.”

“Is she dead?”

“Is she dead?” she repeated incredulously. “What you should have asked is ‘What’s she doin’ out here?’”

“Okay, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air, irritated. “What are you doin’ here? You’re a freakin’ missing person. Dave went down and filled out the paperwork. The law is looking for you all over the country.”

“I drove out here Tuesday to get my diet shakes.”

“What?” Stevie asked skeptically.

“Leonard makes me diet shakes. When I got here, he met me at the door and said his car was in the shop and asked me to take him to town. I said okay. We both went in the house and I paid him for the shakes. Then we’re just about ready to leave the house when
your
yahoo cousin, Jimmy—”

Stevie interrupted, “Was anyone else with him?”

“Ahhh, no,” she said arrogantly. “But the way Jimmy was carrying on, it sounded like there was. He was so drunk, or high on something.”

“Well, hurry up with your yammerin’. Finish the story. We need to git goin’.”

“Leonard got rough with me and yanked my bag off my shoulder—my damn Coach bag that cost me a fortune. He took my bag and my keys! Then he tells me to hide in the closet. He goes outside and then I heard shouting. I’m peekin’ out the window and see Leonard and Jimmy get into a fight. Jimmy stuck him with a knife. Then he threw Leonard into the back seat of my
brand new car
and took off.”

“Why didn’t you try and walk to get help? It ain’t that far to walk to the main drag.”

“In these shoes?” she answered. “If you didn’t notice, they’ve got a three-inch heel.”

Stevie shook his head. “Barbie, why do you wear those freakin’ shoes in the country?”

“I waited a few minutes, then ran out to Jimmy’s truck. I thought the numbnut would have left the keys in the ignition, but no dice. I searched everywhere in his truck. Coming back to the house, I tripped on a root and hurt my ankle. So, brother, that’s pretty much it. I’ve been hidin’ out, waitin’ for them to get back so I could figure out a way to get my car back. What day is it anyway?”

“Friday.”

“Oh, my lord! I’ve been out here three days!”

“You said Katz had a wreck. Is she dead?”

“No, but it’s bizarre that she shows up here in the first place. Nobody knew I was coming out here, so if she was looking for me, how would she have known?”

Stevie started to get out of the truck, but Barbie gripped his arm. “Don’t go out there without a gun. There’s a freakin’ crazy man who lives in the woods. He’ll shoot you dead.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“After Katz had her wreck, he pried her out of the vehicle and took her—God knows where. He’s a huge man, built like the Hulk. His face is horrible. It’s all scarred up and he doesn’t have an eye. Katz showed up, goes inside, then next thing I know—”

“You’re not makin’ any sense. How can she show up when the Hulk has her?”

“Dang it! This was right before the accident,” she said, frustrated. “Katz went inside Leonard’s house for a few minutes. I heard a gunshot. Then she runs out and gets in her car. Jimmy races from the backyard, jumps in his piece of crap truck, and chases her. Now I’m gettin’ tired of tellin’ this story, so give me your dang cell phone so we can call this in, but first let’s get the hell out of here. We can’t get a signal here.”

Stevie got out of the truck and reached behind his seat. He grabbed a flashlight and a gun. “Goin’ to the house. Got to git something. You wait here.”

“No, get back here, you dumbass. That nut case will shoot us if we don’t get out of here.”

Chapter Ten

Katherine opened her eyes and saw Abby the Abyssinian sitting beside her. She had a busy ball clenched in her jaw and dropped it on the bed. “Chirp,” the cat cried, then said in English, “I know something about your great aunt.”

Katherine closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Abby was gone. “I’m going insane,” she said. She lapsed into another dream.

The estate attorney, Mark Dunn, was helping her great aunt Orvenia get into his green Honda. Mark said, “We’ve got to get a move on if we’re going to make it to Wisconsin. The breeder said there was some kind of
Taste of Chic
ago festival going on, and the traffic may be horrendous. That might delay us, so I figure if we leave now, we can avoid the rush.”

“You just jinxed it,” Orvenia said in a croaky voice. The elderly woman smiled and climbed onto the passenger seat.

Katherine struggled to wake up. “But I say that! Why would my great aunt say the same thing I’d say? I learned that from Colleen, and she’s from Ireland, not from Indiana.” She nodded off again.

Mark fired up the engine and peeled out onto Lincoln Street. “You look very dapper today,” he said.

“Thank you! I buy my clothes online now. Beats having my chauffeur drive me into the city.”

Nuts
, Katherine thought.
My great aunt wasn’t up on technology. The only thing she had that was modern was the small flat screen TV in the atrium. She didn’t even own a computer.

“So, Miss Orvenia,” Mark said affectionately. “How did you find out about this breeder? And why an Abyssinian?”

“I saw this picture of a ruddy Abyssinian in a magazine. I read the advertisement for the breeder in Wisconsin and gave her a call. These cats seem so exotic to me. I’ve had Siamese all my life, but . . .”

Wait a minute?
Katherine asked.
Did she just say Siamese
?

“I thought the kitten was an Abyssinian?” Mark asked, bewildered.

“Yes, of course. An Aby. Why on earth would I say Siamese when I’ve been talking about an Abyssinian?” Orvenia commented in an exasperated tone.

Mark drove in silence. He knew Orvenia’s quick temper and ugly mood swings. He’d just keep on driving until she spoke again, then he’d answer.

After a few minutes, Orvenia said, “I want to change my will.”

“Sure, you can do that,” Mark answered in a professional voice, but thought, ‘here we go again.’ Orvenia had already changed her will many times, but maybe the thirteenth time’s the charm.
More work
, he thought.
I bill by the hour
.

“I haven’t heard from my Brooklyn relatives in a very long time. We didn’t part on good terms. Everyone has died now, leaving only a great niece. Her name is Katherine. She works in Manhattan. Very bright girl. Works with computers.”

“You’ve never mentioned a great niece before,” Mark said curiously.

“Her mother named her daughter after me. My middle name is Katherine. Of course, you know that,” Orvenia said matter-of-factly, “You being my attorney and all.”

Katherine tried to turn in bed but couldn’t move. She said out loud, “But you didn’t know me. Mark found out about me through my social media page.”

“Okay, no problem. We’ll change your will,” he said.

Orvenia smiled. “I want her to inherit everything, including this dear Abyssinian kitten we’re picking up today. It means a lot to me. Erie people haven’t been kind. They’ve always thought I married dear William for his money. I want Katz to have it.”

Katherine forced herself to wake up. She was dizzy. She wanted another drink of water, but the man was gone. She heard a gun blast, then more shots.
Oh, my God, I’ve got to get out of here.

Chapter Eleven

Barbie drank more water and worried about Stevie going to the house. What should she do if she heard gun shots? Run? Limp to the house and try and help him? He had to be involved in drug dealing again, or why else would he come to Leonard’s house? She knew Leonard got busted for marijuana once or twice, but thought he was clean now. This alternative medicine route was right up his alley, because several years ago he worked at the Erie Drug Store as a pharmacist.

Barbie sighed.
Leonard’s always been so sweet to
me, she thought.
He knew how sensitive I was about my weight, so he made me diet shakes. But why was he so rough with me the last time I saw him? He’s never done that before. Where did Jimmy take Leonard after he stabbed him?  And why did the idiot bring him back? To murder him? But the Hulk was firing shots, too, or was that after Katz ran out of the house? It’s just too confusing.

What a family I was born into
, she reflected sadly.
Stevie’s starting a new business, but dear old Dad still has him tied to his business. When Jimmy stole my car and left with Leonard, they were empty-handed. When they came back, Jimmy was carrying a bag full of something. Leonard got out and seemed to be okay. I guess the wound wasn’t as bad as I thought.

Barbie hadn’t waited for the two to come into the house. She limped back to the closet, where she waited until they went to sleep, then she left the house by the back door. Behind the house were several old sheds. She had chosen the one with the most junk, more things to hide behind.

Now, as she sat in Stevie’s truck back at Townsend’s house, the loud report of a rifle shot broke the silence. Barbie screamed and put her head down. She knelt down on the floorboard. The driver’s side door opened and she looked up, expecting to see Stevie. Instead, it was the man with the disfigured face. He grunted something and motioned her to get out of the truck.

“I’m not gettin’ out of this freakin’ truck,” she yelled. “Get outta here!”

“Hey, Buddy,” Stevie yelled from up the road. “It’s Stevie Sanders. I came to git my stuff. We’re fixin to leave.”

The man slammed the door and walked back into the woods.

Barbie shouted out the open truck window, “You know that man? What the hell!”

Stevie put several items in his diamond plate steel toolbox and hopped in. “He’s some old geezer Leonard takes care of. Harmless, if he knows ya, but meaner than a snake if he doesn’t.”

“Harmless, you say? He’s the one who pulled Katz out of the wreck. Call him back. We need to find her.”

A loud clap of thunder rang through the woods. A bolt of lightning lit up the night sky and struck one of the nearby trees. The acrid smell of ozone permeated the air. Stevie shouted out his window. “Hey, Buddy, come back. I need to talk to ya.” He yelled several more times, but the man didn’t return.

Hail started hitting the truck: At first, small pellets the size of peas, then bigger hailstones. Stevie cursed, “Damn, not on my new truck! Hey, Barbie, I don’t like the looks of this. Could be a tornado. Come on, we’re goin’ to Leonard’s house.”

“But I can hardly walk,” she protested. “What if one of those hailstones hits us in the head?”

Stevie got out of the driver’s side, pulled out a hooded jacket, and hurriedly put it on. He rushed over to Barbie. Opening the door, he said, “I’ll carry you. Step down on the running board and I’ll take it from there.” Barbie did what she was told. Stevie leaned in, picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder. He began walking to the house. “You weigh a ton,” he complained.

“Oh, really? You should have lifted me last Tuesday. I’ve lost a million pounds since then.”

“Okay, shut up. Gotta concentrate on not droppin’ you.”

Stevie stepped around the tail end of the wrecked Subaru and nearly lost his footing, when he tripped over a piece from the wreckage—the rearview mirror. “Damn, about dropped you there.”

“Hurry up. The hail is getting bigger. I just got hit by one,” Barbie whined.

“I’m tryin’. I can see the porch light. Just a few.”

When they got to the front porch, Stevie set Barbie down. The door was ajar, so he opened the screen door, stepped in, and flipped the inside light switch. Barbie limped in behind him. The wind slammed against the southwest side of the house, making the original glass windows rattle precariously in their frames.

Stevie found a flashlight. “Look, the power’s goin’ out any second. We’ve got to git down to the cellar.”

“I
am not
goin’ down there,” Barbie said adamantly, easing into a chair.

“Hail usually comes before a twister, so . . .”

A large branch fell against the house. He yanked his sister out of the chair and threw her over his shoulder again. Holding the flashlight in his teeth, he opened the cellar door and slowly descended the stairs. Barbie collapsed against him.

“Did you faint?” he asked, cautiously taking one step at a time.

“No, I’m holdin’ my breath. It really stinks down here.”

“Just old house smell.” He set her down and shone his light around the room. In the corner were two wood crates, so he picked them up and moved them to the center of the room. “Sit on one of these until the storm breaks.” He walked back up the steps and turned on the light; a naked incandescent bulb shone dimly.

“You didn’t come back here to get some tools,” Barbie said in an accusing tone. “What was in your hand when you came back?”

Something heavy crashed into the house and the lights went out. Barbie screamed.