Cat Coming Home

45

THE MAROON JAGUAR sat high up the hill sheltered among a dark overhang of cypress branches, well hidden from the houses below. Weeks ago, Pearl had driven up here with Arlie when he was looking for a house. He’d taken one look at the neighborhood and pronounced it a wilderness, too far from the amenities as he called them, too removed from his lifestyle. Didn’t that make her laugh. What about his lifestyle while he was in prison? Though the area was so out of the way she wondered if the cops even bothered to patrol here.

The street ended in a cul-de-sac, but a narrower road led away down the far side of the hill, and she had parked facing that for a quick exit. The night around her was clear, but a fog was creeping up from the scrubby canyon, making it look like a pale river. She could escape down in there if she needed to, though the idea of climbing down among that tangle of weeds and trees didn’t really appeal; she’d done enough of that, earlier in the night.

Down the hill, despite fingers of fog, light from a thin moon picked out faintly the shapes of the large old houses. All were dark except for a faint glow from behind one, maybe a low-watt security light. The time was two forty-five. In the rearview mirror she watched Maudie, ready to stop her if she struggled with her bonds again; she’d already slapped her once for doing that. Maudie kept glancing down at the street below as if imagining that someone in one of those houses would wake and come to rescue her. When a couple of dogs started barking, Pearl studied the yards, but it was too dark to see where they were or what they were barking at. Only when a brighter light came on from behind one of the houses did she reach to switch on the ignition.

But then she paused. Maybe it was nothing, maybe the barking dogs had awakened someone, maybe they’d shut up and the light would go out again. This was too good a shelter to leave, she didn’t want to move. Settling back, she thought about where she’d go once she had the bonds and ledger pages and with no loose ends left behind. No good to get involved with a casino anywhere, too easy for the cops to track her through the gambling industry. Unless she left the country, worked a casino in the Bahamas or maybe the West Indies. Behind her, Maudie had settled down, too, as if giving up her hopeful vigil. When the dogs barked again, Pearl thought shadows moved in the yard before the lighted house and she strained to see—but maybe the dogs were loose or tied out there, surely it was just the dogs, milling around.

It was maybe ten minutes later when lights blazed in the front windows and the front door opened, emitting a river of light. A man stepped out with a big dog on a leash. Was that the detective? Garza? With the light at his back she couldn’t be sure. His build was the same as the Latino: square shoulders, short-clipped hair that looked dark. But what would he be doing here? He’d gone off with that Ryan Flannery and the cursed tracking dog—tracking Benny. Was that the tracking dog? But Benny wouldn’t be up here, the dog couldn’t have tracked him here, the kid couldn’t climb all the way up here from the wreck, that whiny, limping kid. If he’d gone anywhere it would be downhill toward the village, if he could walk even that far. He’d be scared silly to climb up here alone, through the black woods.

The man turned, and the light caught his face. When she saw him clearly, again her hand slipped to the ignition, ready to ease the car away down the far side of the hill. It was Garza.

Could he have given up trailing Benny, and started tracking her car? But how could he even know Maudie was gone? When the detective and Flannery and her husband left to search for Benny, Maudie had been safe in the house. Or so they thought. And once she had gotten Maudie away, who was going to come to the door in the middle of the night and discover Maudie wasn’t there? Not Jared, she thought, smiling. He’d be long gone, headed up the coast somewhere, maybe had hit some bar until closing time, to establish an alibi. She and the Colletto boys had escaped into the greenbelt together, Kent turning away downhill, she and Jared swinging back toward Maudie’s house. Jared had slipped in through the studio while she waited among the trees in the dark yard, then had gone in later to get the kid. Now, watching Garza, she glanced again toward the escape road, but if she moved the car, even without lights he’d hear her. Or the dog would, and make a fuss that would bring the damned cop straight to her.

Maybe they’d be gone soon, maybe the dog had lost Benny’s scent somewhere and the cop was just nosing around among the houses up here. Maybe he thought that, from above the woods, he might hear Benny crying for help. She had six hours until the bank opened, she could wait him out until he left. After the bank, she’d decide what to do with Maudie. She couldn’t turn her loose to run to the cops; she’d have to dispose of her or, as much of a drag as it would be, she’d have to take Maudie with her, kill her somewhere far away, dump her where no one would find her.

MAUDIE, FROM THE moment Pearl parked at the top of the hill under the trees, had known where she was. Below, fog lay thick along the ravine, the black line of roofs softly silhouetted against it. They were just above the senior ladies’ house. Even in the dark she knew the old established neighborhood, knew it from when she was a child and it had seemed so very far from the village. And knew it from more recently when she’d brought Benny up here to spend some time with Lori while she visited with Cora Lee, getting to know the four ladies, wanting to make friends her own age, establish some connections. Now, with the house so close, there had to be some way to reach them, to tell them she needed help.

She looked longingly at the soft light that burned around the back, most likely from the kitchen, and imagined the four women in their robes, sharing late-night cocoa. For her, they were worlds away; they might never know she’d been there. If she cried out for help, Pearl would hit her again or would drive off down the hill again. Even if she tried to cry out, she doubted they’d hear her since the dogs had started barking. She yearned to be down there safe in their kitchen. The thought of escape, of safety, brought tears of frustration that, with her hands tied behind her, she couldn’t even wipe away. She didn’t want Pearl to see how weak she was.

Whenever Pearl looked away from the rearview mirror, Maudie worked at the knots that bound her hands, picking and pulling at the soft belt, bending her fingers awkwardly. Pearl hadn’t found the gun in her pocket. Hadn’t felt it, hadn’t even looked. Apparently she didn’t think Maudie would have a gun or know how to use it. There were advantages in looking soft and helpless. And in not sharing all your personal information, even with your daughter-in-law. It hadn’t been any of Pearl’s business that she and Allen, on their weekend trips, had often included several hours at a county pistol range. They had kept several guns locked away, not only from Benny, but from any visitor who might enjoy snooping.

When one of the knots gave, a shock of excitement made her heart pound. It was almost loose. She tried to keep her upper body still as her cramped fingers fought to undo it. She was startled when, below at the seniors’ house, lights suddenly blazed on in the front windows, the front door opened, and Detective Garza emerged with Ryan’s tracking dog. She couldn’t believe he was there, not a hundred yards from her.

Had they found Benny? Had they brought him here? Was he all right? She jerked her hand loose from the last knot, tearing her skin in a long burn. Then she remained still again, not daring to divert Pearl’s attention from the scene that held them both riveted. And now with help so near, she was jolted to action. Slowly, watching Pearl, she reached toward her coat pocket.

HOLDING ROCK ON a short lead, moving along the porch away from the lighted doorway, Dallas stood against the wall of the house surveying the dark neighborhood. Beside him Rock was tense, predatory, his attention fixed on the wooded hill above. Light from the thin moon faintly defined the rising street, the big square houses and overgrown trees. Dallas couldn’t see into the woods at the top of the hill, but the big dog was alerting him in every way, straining to move out, wanting to have a look. Slowly Dallas edged toward the hill, keeping Rock close, knowing better than to approach the car alone.

Earlier, in the seniors’ kitchen, after he got the snitch’s call, Dallas had tried to call Maudie at home. He had gotten no answer, though she’d promised to stay near the phone. He’d alerted Brennan, but the officer, watching both houses, hadn’t seen or heard any disturbance. Brennan had seen Maudie’s bedroom light go on, and in a little while go off again, and had assumed that in spite of the missing child, she might be lying down, preparing herself for whatever came next.

The dog was tense with nerves, and so was Dallas. Where was Max? Too risky to move up on that car without cover and blow the whole thing, if Maudie was up there, maybe get her killed. Staying to the darkest part of the yard as Rock tried to pull him up toward the woods, he paused when he heard a vehicle coming up the hill. Rock stopped and looked expectantly in that direction, knowing the sound of Max’s truck. They heard it park somewhere in the dark below, and Dallas’s phone vibrated.

“Rock’s fixed on the top of the hill,” he told Max. “Something’s there, all right. We’re just at the base of the hill, and he’s hyped to have a look.”

In a minute Max’s shadow moved toward him through the dark. Rock wagged his tail and licked Max’s hand, but then again he fixed his attention on the hill above, his ears sharply forward, his pale yellow eyes never wavering from the black tangle of woods.

Max looked at the eager dog, looked up the hill. “Let’s go with it,” he said, and the three headed silently up through the dark, Rock straining at the leash, the officers’ hands close to their holstered weapons. Neither officer saw Joe Grey behind them slipping from the shadows. Moving swiftly, Joe picked up Pearl’s scent from the damp air, just as Rock was doing, a scent that made the fur along his back bristle. The instant they glimpsed the car the two men separated, circling around to come at it from the back, and Joe moved unseen into the woods. When Dallas was deep among the trees he gave Rock the command to “down, stay.”

Rock obeyed, but so grudgingly Joe thought he’d soon break position. Shivering, Rock stared at the car, the rumble in his throat so faint only Joe could hear it.

As Max moved along beside the car hunkered down, keeping below the windows approaching the driver’s door, Joe saw movement behind the glass that made him want to yell, to warn the chief. Pearl had turned in the driver’s seat, watching Max. Joe saw the gleam of a gun as she swung on Harper—and he did yell, yelled a warning, he couldn’t help himself. Dallas appeared on the far side of the car, his flashlight blazing in on Pearl, her gun pointed at Max. At the same moment, Maudie rose up in the backseat, a dark silhouette.

Two shots blasted the night: Maudie’s gun and Max’s. Dallas didn’t fire for fear of hitting Max. Two shots were enough. Pearl jerked and fell against the door. Max flung the door open, his gun on her as he pulled her out of the car to sprawl facedown in the dirt.

Pearl didn’t move. In the beams of the officers’ lights a thin finger of blood began to pool from the back of her neck, and blood stained the ground beneath her. Joe could see where one bullet had exited, tearing through her throat. When Dallas shone his light around inside the car, Joe could see through the open door that two of the dashboard dials were shattered where a bullet must have passed through Pearl. Easing back out of the way, Joe lay down beside Rock, wanting to comfort the big dog. Rock was shaking—from the stress? From the smell of human blood? Or from the loud explosion of gunshots? Lying close together, cat and dog watched Max slip into the backseat of the Jaguar beside Maudie and put his arm around her, saw the older woman lean against him.

Who had killed Pearl was a toss. But did it matter? Pearl wouldn’t kill anyone else, Joe thought with satisfaction. And she wouldn’t torment Benny or his grandma anymore.

And the tomcat had to wonder, what would happen to Pearl if indeed she now faced some divine retribution? This was a matter of conjecture, but Joe Grey had his own version.