Secrets

Avon, Massachusetts

Copyright © 2014 by Lynn Crandall.
All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

 

Published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.crimsonromance.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-8604-7

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8604-0

eISBN 10: 1-4405-8605-5

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8605-7

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Cover art © iStockphoto.com/Chris Schmidt

 

To Mike, for everything.

Thank you to the sources who willingly shared accurate information in the making of this book: my son Jamie Kurtz, technology genius; Carol Scott, drug research specialist; Lynn McLewin, counselor and healer extraordinaire; and Susan Northrup, owner of Cat Snap cat rescue. I also am grateful to my editor at Crimson Romance, Jess Verdi, for her direction and insights. A special thanks to my family and writer friends for their support. All of the cats in the story are named after either my own cats or cats who have strayed into my yard for food and water. Thanks to the efforts of the Champaign County Humane Society, Cat Snap, and Judy Warmbier, owner of Prairieland Anti-Cruelty Program, the homeless cats received veterinary care, were spayed or neutered, and placed in forever homes.

• Title Page
  
• Copyright Page
  
• Dedication
  
• Acknowledgments
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• About the Author
  
• More from This Author
  
• Also Available
  

The fall breeze whispered over Michelle Slade's bare arms, sending shivers rolling through her body. Crouched low just inside the door on her back porch, she didn't dare move. One foot twitch, one loud breath, and the scruffy gray cat in her backyard would skitter away into the morning darkness. No sweet murmurs of “kitty, kitty, it's all right,” would stop the cat or bring her back any time soon.

As the owner of a cat rescue, Cats Alive, Michelle was well practiced in the routine of supporting stray cats, whether that meant simply setting out food and water or capturing them for veterinary services, then releasing them. She'd spent weeks setting a pattern with this cat. A stray cat is always looking for food, so since she first saw the cat roaming the Laurelwood neighborhood, she'd made sure food and water was available in the backyard—a patch of grass behind her apartment that was semi-private. The cat, a female she'd named Madeline after one of her favorite authors, Madeleine L'Engle, readily made the yard a regular daily stop. Twice daily, in fact. Pattern set, phase one complete, Michelle was ready for phase two. Capture.

A feral, Madeline would never let Michelle touch her, much less pick her up and put her in a cat carrier. No, get close to her and she would just as soon tear off Michelle's face. So phase two involved a humane trap. Personally, she hated the trap for the feelings of terror it evoked in cats, but in her heart she knew it was necessary if she were to have any chance of capturing them and getting them spayed or neutered and possibly homed. Madeline was just one feral cat among a sea of homeless cats, but each cat, including Madeline, would have care and support and a home, if Michelle had her way.

After she moved into her new home on the outskirts of Laurelwood, the odds of capturing Madeline would be slim because she would no longer have access to Madeline's territory.

Madeline clearly noticed the trap, but the diced chicken used as bait was too tempting for her to ignore. Michelle held her breath, her legs cramping, as the cat approached the wire cage.

Good girl. A few more steps. It's okay, little girl.

The cat's steps into the cage were cautious, but there was that delicious meat at the back of the cage. Michelle's body tensed. This was the moment she'd been leading up to. This was her last morning in her apartment, so likely her last chance to help this cat. Her nerves screamed,
Do it!

A snap sounded in the dawn air, startling the cat, and instantly the wire mesh door dropped down. Michelle remained quiet, letting the cat do her feline freak out. She felt for her. What a terrible feeling to suddenly be trapped. Michelle couldn't help the reaction that stirred inside her, watching Madeline hiss and yowl. Futilely. It triggered such strong, visceral memories, she had to swallow down the need to vomit. She was feeling it again—the helplessness, the terror that the man who'd attacked her in her freshman year at college had left her with.

Determined to stay on task, she rolled her shoulders, hoping the knot in her stomach, the one she'd been carrying around since that awful night five years ago when she was … she trembled at the word … raped, would settle down. Three deep breaths in and out and she unfurled her body from her perch on the porch and approached the carrier, speaking the words from her heart.

“It's okay, kitty. I mean you no harm.”

The cat responded with a low growl, but she stopped thrashing.

Michelle stretched tall to ease the kinks in her muscles. Mid-stretch, a glimpse of something slipping along the hedge that bordered her yard made her pause. An eerie feeling slivered down her spine as she strained to catch a better look.
Nothing. Is this vigilance ever going to stop?

Since that horrible night five years ago, she never felt safe, always prepared for the slightest hint of something unexpected to ruin her life once again. A roll of her shoulders dismissed her fears and put her mind back on Madeline. Michelle left her sitting in the trap on the back porch and went inside to dress.

She heard her roommate, Lara Monroe, rustle in the bedroom across the hall. Quietly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She looked around the sparse room for her tennis shoes. All her things but a few clothes and her bed had already been moved to her new home. Even her four cats were gone, visiting with her parents across town.

Michelle was so excited to officially move to her new home later today. The house and property were perfect, and it had a special connection to her past—it was the first house her parents had bought together. Now it was the first home she owned as well. Even though it was located in an area that was now zoned for industry—the zone-change slipped in just as she was closing on the house—the lot was large and gave her the seclusion she desired.

“Did you get her?” Her roommate's voice sounded sleep-gravelly.

Michelle's tension slipped away and her heart warmed, knowing her roommate cared as much as she did about the furry little souls who had no homes. Of course she did. Lara was a veterinarian. “Yes. I'm taking her to the vet as soon as the office opens.”

“Seven?” Lara yawned. “Need help?”

“No, but remember there will be people here today to move the rest of my stuff.”

A low groan came from across the hall, as Michelle walked to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee to take with her.

The trip to one of the vets who provided services at little or no cost for her cat rescue was peppered with Madeline's pleas for release. The pitiful meows plucked at Michelle's heart. “I know, you don't like being in the cage. But everything is going to be just fine.”

The cat answered with a snarl.

“That's okay. I won't take it personally.”

She stepped inside the vet's office and smiled at the receptionist. The waiting room was quiet at this hour, but that wouldn't last long. Surgeries started the day for the veterinarian, but soon enough pets and their owners would start filling the waiting room.

“Hi, Michelle. I'll take the cat right back. Dr. Baker will do the usual exam and blood test. Assuming everything is all right, he'll do the spaying and the cat will be ready by about four this afternoon, but I'll text you when we have test results.” The young vet assistant grabbed the handle of the trap and disappeared into another room.

Michelle turned to the receptionist. “Put this on my bill, Molly?”

“Sure. These cats are lucky you care, Michelle.”

“The stream of needy cats never stops. I wish for something better for them, but at least we can improve their lives by removing the possibility of endless litters.”

Molly nodded. “Right. And fewer fights among other cats. It's amazing what eliminating the mating drive does for the overall health of the cat.”

Michelle checked the clock on the wall. Just enough time to make a quick trip back to her apartment to change and grab the mail, then get to the office. The private investigator sisters she worked for, Sterling and Lacey Aegar, gave her a wide zone of tolerance, but she didn't want to take advantage of their kindness. Still, arriving late was sometimes unavoidable, thanks to Cats Alive. Though it was difficult to handle the office management work for Aegar Investigations and run her not-for-profit cat rescue, she was used to a beyond-full load—she'd gotten her bachelor's degree in three years and her MBA in two—and at twenty-three years old, both endeavors meant a lot to her. She'd worked for the sisters while going to college and they were like family. The work for them paid her bills, and her cat rescue sat firmly in the center of her heart.

She made one stop at their favorite coffee shop, then breezed into the office just thirty minutes late. “Hey, it's just me. I bring one black coffee, dark roast, and one skinny vanilla latte.” No reply from the sisters' private office made her pause. The door stood open, so she poked her head in and saw that both were on the phone. They each waved a hand and smiled, beckoning for the coffee.

At her desk, Michelle sipped her black coffee, vente, sorted the office mail, checked her email inbox for both the rescue and Aegar Investigations, and answered the most pressing correspondence first.

She paused mid-sentence in an email, focusing on a glimpse in her mind. A cloudy image of a cat walking into a trap, the door snapping down, and hands reaching to pick up the cage and carry it away. Strong foreboding gripped her heart and she tried to follow the image of the cage, focusing hard. But the premonition ended just as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving her troubled.

Premonitions, vague but noticeable thoughts and blurry images of possibilities to come, were a common occurrence for her. She'd had them for as long as she could remember, but as a child they'd scared her. They'd invaded her dreams, turning them into nightmares. She'd been advised they meant nothing and she should ignore them. Her parents hadn't known any better. It worked for a long while, until as an adult, she'd opened to them again. It hadn't felt right to repress them. She'd also learned she was a member of the twenty percent of the population that carries a trait of hypersensitivity—an ability to sense others' feelings and pick up emotions from objects. Her perceptions outweighed her premonitions, but the premonitions teamed with the perceptions to enhance her awareness of life around her. It could be difficult to tease apart her own feelings from what she picked up from others and from premonitions, but she was working on it.