Catch As Cat Can

18

“Neil ran off? Why would he do that?” It didn’t make sense to Sunny. Neil hadn’t been happy when Val told him he had to go. But he had to realize that with Yancey Kilbane out there, he wasn’t safe. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing much we can do. WitSec is a voluntary deal. People leave it all the time.” Will shook his head. “Of course, that decision doesn’t help their life expectancy. And practically speaking, putting a BOLO out on Neil would just make him more conspicuous.”

“What does he think he’s doing? Did he take his bag?”

“No, he left that. Used the old out-the-bathroom-window routine,” Will said.

“So he’s got the clothes on his back and whatever money is in his pockets.” Sunny frowned in bafflement. “I know Neil didn’t want to let his investment in the shop go. But I don’t think he can arrange a quick turnover sale late on a Friday.”

“Val said she was going to check out his house and the store,” Will said. “For the rest . . .” He shrugged. “This is one I’ll happily pass along to the decision-makers in Levett.”

He gave Sunny a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “I’ll catch up with you later this evening. After all this stuff has been hashed out.” On that melancholy note, he left.

Sunny plunged back into the rush for last-minute reservations on quaint Maine bed-and-breakfasts. When she surfaced, it was time to close down the office. She drove home to find a welcoming committee by the door—Mike as well as Shadow.

“What’s the matter, Dad?” She could tell Mike was worried—he couldn’t stand still. And his mood had communicated itself to Shadow, who stayed so close underfoot, Sunny was in danger of tripping with every step she took.

“We don’t want to sound like jittery old people, but—well, Helena gave me a call. She took a nap this afternoon, and when she got up, Abby was gone, and so was the car.”

“She could have gone shopping—getting something for supper,” Sunny suggested. The sky had been fully dark when she walked from her Wrangler to the house, but that was just Maine in winter. It wasn’t even six o’clock yet.

“Maybe she’s making a big fuss over nothing, but Abby’s been gone—” He looked at his watch. “Almost an hour and a half. And usually she leaves a note.” Mike bit his lip. “I was wondering—maybe if you gave Will a call—”

Yeah, that would be just about the topper for his day. His third missing person, this one gone an hour and a half. But she kept that thought to herself.

“I think it’s a little, um, premature to go to the police quite yet. And I know Will is tied up right now.” She looked at her father’s worried expression. “But I bet that Mrs. M. is pretty upset, too. What do you say we go over there and keep her company?”

She turned to get Mike’s coat off the peg by the door and encountered a furry body just about wrapped around her ankle. Shadow’s gold-flecked eyes met Sunny’s in a full-on guilt stare, sending the message You’re not leaving me again, are you?

Sighing, she reached down and picked up the cat. “We’ll all go. Maybe Shadow can distract Helena until Abby comes home.”

Soon, I hope, she silently added.

They walked the few blocks to the Martinson place and rang the bell, eliciting some disconsolate woofs from the basement. Mrs. M. opened the door. “I put Toby downstairs in his crate. He was getting a little—let’s call it high-strung. And what’s worse, he was getting it from me. I hope you don’t think I’m being a silly old woman, Sunny.”

Mike stepped forward and took Helena in his arms for a comforting hug. “Nobody’s saying that.”

“Well, I’m certainly thinking it.” Helena Martinson stepped back to usher them into the house, finally noticing the additional member of the group. “Well, hello, Shadow. What brings you over here?”

“I’ve been running around a bit lately, and I didn’t want Shadow to think I was ignoring him again.”

Helena brought her hand forward for Shadow to sniff. “It should be safe,” she said with a crooked smile. “I washed up after getting Toby settled.”

Shadow lay quietly in Sunny’s arms while Mrs. M. gently stroked his fur. “Abby would probably say you’re spoiling that cat, but I think it’s all right.”

They moved into the living room, seating themselves on the couch. Sunny arranged Shadow in her lap so that Helena could keep petting. “It’s better with company,” Mrs. M. said, relaxing a little. “Waiting alone, all sorts of things pop into your head.”

Sunny nodded, remembering her unpleasant daydreams about Will throughout the afternoon.

“It’s just that Abby is more thoughtful about letting me know where she’s going. At least she has been since coming home on this visit.”

And discovering that her mother is a bit older and, yeah, frailer than she remembers her being, Sunny thought. Been there, done that.

“I’m sure she just popped out to get something, and then—maybe she met a friend from the old days,” Sunny said.

Although most of the people our age left town to find careers somewhere else, that annoying reporter who lived in the back of Sunny’s brain commented.

“Or if not a school friend, there are plenty of parents around who might recognize her. Especially after that nice story Ken Howell put in the Courier.” Maybe Sunny was grasping at straws, but Helena Martinson nodded.

“Yes, we have a couple of people—parents of schoolmates—who commented on that. They said how nice it was to see her around town.”

Helena smiled, but anxiety crept back into her eyes. “Mike wanted to call you when I first told him that Abby wasn’t around, but I thought if I asked you for help, it should be face-to-face.” Her smile wobbled a little bit. “You have a friend on the police force.”

“And I’m afraid he’s up to his neck right now.” Sunny tried to make her voice gentle. “He was expecting to make an arrest, and the person he’s after got away.”

Her voice trailed off as she remembered the other missing person of the afternoon. “Helena, could we go upstairs and take a look at Abby’s room?”

Mrs. M. stared at her. “Whatever for?”

“Well, she may—” Sunny fumbled for a reason. “She may have left a note for you there. Did you look?”

Hope appeared in the older woman’s eyes. “I didn’t think of that.” She led the way upstairs. “I know I often get distracted in the middle of something and leave it where it was instead of where I was going to put it.”

She opened the door to a room that looked pretty much unchanged since Abby’s college days. A framed poster from the summer Shakespeare festival she’d worked on held pride of place over the bed.

Mrs. M. checked the small student’s desk and the spread on the bed. Sunny edged open the closet to make sure Abby’s travel bag was still in place. She spotted the wheeled carry-on immediately.

“Sunny?” She turned, silently cursing herself, to find Helena staring at her. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to make sure Abby’s things were still here,” Sunny said, trying to figure out the nicest way to put what she had to say. “Neil Garret has apparently taken off.”

“Is that who Will expected to arrest?” Mrs. M. asked.

“No, this is another thing altogether,” Sunny replied. “But you remember that Abby said she had . . . known Neil back in California.”

“This is the first time I’m hearing about this,” Mike said.

“There are reasons, Dad,” Sunny told him. She turned back to Helena. “Anyway, I remembered their friendship, and it struck me that maybe Abby would help him.”

And maybe their relationship was a lot more than Abby let on, and that Neil either called her here, or maybe she contacted him after spotting him in his shop. However you slice it, Abby might just be the girl a fugitive would turn to for help. Neil has no money. At least Abby has access to an ATM.

Sunny tried for a reassuring smile, but she wasn’t sure she managed to get her face quite right as she led the way down the stairs. “Anyway, I’ve changed my mind. I think maybe it would be a good idea to give Will a call.”

She stopped in the middle of the flight when she realized someone was standing in the hallway downstairs. Neil Garret.

“What are you doing here?” Sunny burst out.

Mrs. M. looked over her shoulder. “Mr. Garret? I’m afraid Abby is out.”

“I know.” Sunny had never seen Neil Garret look more miserable. “And it’s my fault. She’s been taken, Mrs. Martinson. Taken by a man who wants to trade her for me.”

“Taken?” Helena said the word as if she couldn’t quite grasp the meaning.

“The man who’s after me, he got hold of a file. It told about my background, my associates, and it included a picture of your daughter. Apparently there was a picture of her that appeared in the local newspaper, and this guy put two and two together . . .”

Neil gave his head a violent shake. “Abby didn’t deserve to get mixed up in this. I’m going to get her out of it. I’ve got an hour to show up at Charlie Vane’s boat. As soon as I get there, this man will let her go.”

“Can you trust him?” Mike said. “I think that sounds more like a job for the police.”

“If this guy sees police, Abby gets it.” Neil’s voice was rough. “So I can’t let you call your friend Will.”

“And how are you going to stop us?” Sunny asked.

Neil brought up the hand he’d kept hidden behind his leg to reveal a gleaming pistol. “Abby told me about her dad, how he was always hunting and fishing, about his fishing gear and his guns. This was in a nicely engraved box from the Kittery Harbor Sportsman’s Club. I don’t trust the word of the man who took Abby. This will be an equalizer.”

“Neil.” Sunny tried to keep her voice calm. “You told me you never touched a gun in your life.”

“Yeah, but I watched other people take care of them,” Neil replied. “I know which end the bullets come out of.”

He gestured with the pistol. “So let’s all get on the same level here.”

Step by unwilling step, Sunny, her dad, and Mrs. M. joined Neil.

“Turn out your pockets.”

“What for?” Mike demanded.

“I want to get all your cell phones,” Neil explained. Once that was taken care of, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Now—into the basement.”

“What are you going to do down there?” Mrs. M. asked.

“I’m going to lock you in,” Neil replied. “It will just be for a little while. If everything goes right, Abby will be back here to let you out.”

And if it doesn’t go right . . . Sunny pushed that thought aside. It didn’t pay to argue with a man holding a gun. He herded them down the basement stairs, standing over them with his pistol. When they were down in the cellar, he slammed the door shut. A second later they heard a click.

Mike charged up the stairs like a much younger man. He grabbed the shiny new lever he’d helped install and tried to twist it.

Of course, it didn’t budge.

“Locked,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “I—”

“Shhhh.” Sunny had joined him at the top of the stairs, pressing one ear against the panel and holding her hand over the other ear, which was being assaulted by barks and whines from Toby. “The front door closed. He’s gone.”

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Mrs. M. moved over to Toby’s crate and let him out. The dog danced around them in a dithering run.

Pretty much the way I feel, Sunny had to admit.

“There have to be tools here, something we can use to jimmy the door open.” Mike flicked the switch to turn on a dim bulb on the ceiling.

“Vince kept his workshop and his hunting stuff in the garage,” Mrs. Martinson said. “He redid it as a den.”

“Maybe one of us could squeeze out a window,” Sunny suggested. Mrs. M. was petite. If they could boost her up—

But Helena shook her head. “They’ve been seriously winterproofed. Nothing’s getting in—or out.”

“We could get something to use as a battering ram,” Mike desperately suggested. “The three of us—”

“Wouldn’t have much room on those stairs,” Sunny pointed out.

“There has to be something we can do.” Mike pounded a frustrated fist against the wooden panel.

“Wait a second.” Sunny listened carefully—she’d heard a noise outside. A sort of high-pitched mew. The sound of a curious cat.

“Shadow!” she called. “Are you there?”

The answer came as a scratch, Shadow’s claws on the wooden door.

“Great, the furball is out there,” Mike grumped. “What are you going to do, slip a note under the door for him to take to the neighbors?”

“I’m hoping—praying—he can do something more useful.” Sunny took hold of the door lever and rattled it. “Hey, Shadow, you hear that? Come and get it!”

*

Shadow stared up at the door, not sure what kind of a game this was. He’d been kind of annoyed when Sunny put him down on the floor and all the two-legs climbed the stairs, so he hadn’t followed them. Instead he’d stayed in the room with chairs, wrinkling his nose. The whole place smelled of Biscuit Eater. At least the big yellow dog wasn’t there to annoy him.

Then he heard other footsteps coming in. Maybe this was Good Petter. Shadow peered around the big chair and got a surprise. It was the Generous One, moving in that funny way the humans did when they thought they were being quiet.

Voices came from above, and then Sunny, the Old One, and the Old One’s She were coming down the stairs. Obviously, they were surprised to see the Generous One, too. Shadow stayed where he was. He didn’t like it when friends fought, and whatever the two-legs were saying, it wasn’t friendly. Some of it sounded sad, some angry.

Then the humans began moving toward the room of food.

Maybe this is better, Shadow thought. Maybe the fight is over and they’re going to eat.

But, no, instead the Old One opened the door to the dark place below, and he, Sunny, and his She went down the stairs. This didn’t look like a good thing. It didn’t look like a game, either. Shadow watched in puzzlement as the Generous One slammed the door. Then he put a shiny thing in his pocket, went down the hall to the front door, and left.

Shadow crept into the kitchen and sat in front of the closed door. He could hear agitated voices on the other side. Couldn’t the two-legs get the door open? Shadow thought humans could do that.

Now you know how it feels to be a cat, he thought as he heard banging from the other side.

He put a curious paw out to push against the wood. It didn’t move. He gave it a quick scratch, but he could see claws wouldn’t work, either.

Then he heard a rattling noise. He looked up to see a metal thing moving slightly—not a knob like most doors, but a squarish thing kind of like the catch on the screen door that he was able to jump up and work. He heard Sunny’s voice calling him, like when they played the Chase the String game.

Shadow crouched down, then sprang up, his paw batting at the metal thing as he passed it. But the door didn’t open.

He landed on the floor, staring up, as Sunny called him again. He jumped, but again the metal thing resisted his efforts, for that try and two more.

It doesn’t move when I hit it, Shadow thought, examining the thing above his head. But it sticks out enough. Maybe I can catch it . . .

He gathered himself for another leap, but this time instead of batting at the recalcitrant thing, he hooked a paw around it. A sharp vibration went through his leg, and then the metal thing twisted beneath him, trying to dump him to the floor. Shadow spun in midair, getting his legs under him and springing away from the sneaky thing—just in time.

The door almost flew open, and Sunny came running out, calling his name. She swooped down to him, gathering him up in her arms and planting her lips to the top of his head. She didn’t do that very often. Shadow had learned that two-legs didn’t like to groom.

He settled in her arms as she hugged him close and put her lips on him again.

This is pretty nice, he thought. But I wouldn’t want to play that game again. It’s kind of stupid.