Hooked On A Feline

chapter 20

We were at Wisteria Hill. I drove slowly up the driveway, hoping that somehow Roma had been late leaving or that her plans had changed, but the farmhouse was in darkness. I parked as close to the old carriage house as I could.

“Give me the keys, please,” Jonas said.

I handed them to him and laid one hand on the dashboard for a moment. Harrison had given me the truck because Owen and I had found some papers about his daughter, Elizabeth’s, adoption. And we’d almost gotten blown up in the process. We had barely gotten clear of the cabin where we’d been trapped when the propane tank exploded. I remembered having no sense of where my body was as the impact propelled me into the brush. I had landed flat on my back in a pile of snow, cold, wet, bruised and bloody.

But alive.

And then I’d caught sight of Owen coming toward me, snow and bits of tree bark stuck to his fur, spitting angry, meowing loudly all the way.

But alive.

We’d gotten out of that and we were going to get out of this as well.

Jonas gestured with the gun and I climbed out of the truck. Could I sprint to the carriage house if I had the chance? I hoped so. From there the woods were dense enough that I could find lots of places to hide.

I stood next to the truck while Jonas stuffed the keys and my phone into his pocket. He’d said that I noticed things that other people didn’t. He was right, which meant I’d paid attention when Harry had explained how he’d hot-wired a truck almost identical to this one when he was a lovestruck teenager. I didn’t need those keys to get out of here.

“If I had any other option to protect Lachlan, I would take it,” Jonas said. “Everything I have ever done has been for Lachlan.”

“So tell the truth for Lachlan. Tell him who he really is.”

“He’s Colin and Ainsley’s son. He’s a Finnamore.”

I wasn’t going to get though to him. In a different circumstance, I would have respected his loyalty to his child. But I was in this circumstance.

“I admire you and people who are like you,” he said. “I admire the fact that you truly do seem to see and expect the best from people, but I’m not like that. Maybe I was once, but not now. As I said before, I am sorry.” Once more he gestured with the gun.

I thought about Marcus and Mom and Dad and Ethan and Sarah and Harrison and Roma and Maggie and the furballs. I thought about what Mary had taught me about kickboxing and the structure of the human knee.

“I’m sorry, too,” I said.

And then I kicked the side of his knee as hard as I could. He yelled and went down, the hand holding the gun flying up in the air. I didn’t waste any time trying to look for the gun. I ran and hoped Owen was with me.

I bolted around the side of the old carriage house and sprinted for the trees. I had a bit of a head start, but I knew it wasn’t enough to let me double back to the truck. Jonas was taller and faster and stronger. I just hoped I’d connected hard enough that his knee would cause him enough trouble to give me an edge.

I tried to picture the road that ran in front of Wisteria Hill. If I turned left once I got up the graded embankment behind the carriage house, I could make another left turn and then head down toward the road. It made more sense than continuing to cut through the woods in the direction of the back access road. The main road would have more traffic.

It was dark and the air was heavy with moisture but it had stopped raining. Everything was dripping. The ground was saturated with water. I was breathing heavily. My feet in my canvas shoes were already soaking wet. I could hear the sound of rushing water. There was a stream off to the left behind the carriage house, skirting the rise where the trees began. When I got that far, I would need to turn left a second time. I reminded myself that it didn’t matter that it was dark. I could hear the water. I knew which way to go. I had an advantage Jonas didn’t have.

Owen still hadn’t appeared. I was afraid to even whisper the cat’s name in case Jonas heard me. I had to keep moving forward, hoping that Owen was here somewhere in the darkness beside me.

I made my way through the dripping trees, trying not to lose my footing on the mud and leaves and pine needles underfoot. Climbing up the embankment was a challenge. My feet kept sliding out from under me. The water sounded louder, closer. I tried to picture the last time I’d been here earlier in the summer. I couldn’t be that far from the stream. I could follow it to the road. I just had to keep moving.

I went from one tree to the next, hugging their trunks, trying to stay small and quiet. I had to assume Jonas was behind me. And then suddenly I pitched forward. A tree branch snapped against my forehead and I landed facedown on the ground. I rolled over onto my back, trying to get my breath. After a few moments, I sat up, running one hand down my right leg. The calf, right above my ankle, was bleeding. I flexed my foot and grimaced. It hurt but I didn’t think anything was broken. I felt around on the ground. I had tripped over a sharp-edged rock a bit bigger than my hand.

I could feel blood running down my leg. I needed a bandage. I pulled off my shirt, grateful that I had a tank top underneath. I managed to tear the fabric at a side seam. I tore off the whole right-front section and fashioned a makeshift tourniquet, knotting it as tightly as I could around my leg. I had just tied a second knot when Owen appeared beside me. He nuzzled my hand and I had to swallow a couple of times so I wouldn’t cry. I buried my face in his neck. He was muddy and wet and none too happy.

The rock I’d tripped over was still next to my foot. I ran my fingers over it and thought maybe I could use it. I looked around. Even though it was dark, I could see that I was at the upper edge of the embankment. I listened, focusing on tuning out the water rushing over the rocks. I heard a foot slip on the wet ground. Or was it just a racoon or a skunk? No. They would have been more sure-footed. It had to be Jonas. He was quiet but not quiet enough.

I kissed the top of Owen’s head, hoping he’d understand what I wanted him to do. I pointed at a nearby tree and then held up the rock. I pantomimed throwing it. He cocked his head to one side. Then I pointed to him and mimicked throwing back my head and yowling. My face was close to his and I saw his golden eyes narrow. Did he get it? I needed him to draw Jonas over to us. He probably would come this way but I needed to be sure and I needed to be ready.

My heart was pounding. My plan to get away from a man who wanted to kill me depended on a cat playing his part. But Owen wasn’t just any cat. I climbed the tree, grateful that it was wet and made my progress quieter. I slid out along a branch about eight feet up, holding the rock tightly with one hand. I pushed my damp hair out of my face and gestured in Owen’s direction. His response was to take a couple of swipes at his face with his paw. For a moment I thought he hadn’t understood me and then he meowed loudly. He leaned forward and he meowed again and then again.

I was counting on the fact that even though he had killed two people, there was still some part of Jonas Quinn that was a good, kind person. My heart was thumping so hard, I was afraid it would shake me off the branch. The gash on my leg throbbed and the edge of the rock dug into my hand. Then Jonas came through the trees. I didn’t see any sign of the gun. Either he hadn’t found it after I’d kicked him, or he hadn’t bothered looking. Owen meowed once more and to my surprise held up one paw. Was he . . . acting?

Jonas looked around; then he sighed. “What are you doing way out here? You belong down with the other cats.”

He thought Owen was part of the feral colony. Owen continued to hold up his paw, his meows becoming more pitiful.

Jonas took a step closer. “I’ll come back for you,” he said.

It was now or never. I calculated the angle, hoped my math was right and then pushed myself partway up with my free arm and threw the rock with everything I had.

The rock struck Jonas on the side of his head, just above his right temple. His legs buckled and he collapsed. I waited for a moment to see if he’d move. When he didn’t, I made my way down out of the tree, slipping on the wet bark and almost landing on the ground next to Jonas. I had scraped the skin on one arm but I was all right. I could see his chest moving ,so I knew Jonas was breathing.

I grabbed Owen. “We’re okay,” I said. “We’re okay.” My makeshift bandage was soaked through with blood and my leg hurt but I knew I could retrace my steps back to the truck. I’d crawl if I had to.

I took two steps and Jonas’s arm snaked out and grabbed my ankle, pulling me down. I fell hard, knocking the wind out of me. Owen had jumped from my arms and stood by my head hissing as I struggled to catch my breath.

I kicked, gasping for air, and tried to roll over and sit up but Jonas was already on his feet. He grabbed my other leg and began dragging me across the ground. I yelled for help. I tried to grab onto anything, a tree root, a rock, a bush, but he was bigger and stronger.

He was headed for the stream. He was going to push me over the edge onto the rocks and into the water. Panic swirled in my chest. I used the burst of adrenaline to twist and kick even harder. It didn’t work. Jonas’s hands were clamped around my ankles like a set of handcuffs. I couldn’t see Owen anymore, but I could hear him. I wasn’t sure if he’d disappeared or was just out of my line of sight.

My face banged against the ground and I got a mouthful of dirt. I spit and choked. I couldn’t get away. I could try to pull Jonas over with me or I could do everything I could to survive the fall. I stopped kicking and flailing. I went limp, hoping Jonas might loosen his grip even a little. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking, but I promised myself that when he pushed me, I’d curl into a ball and cover my head with my arms. I’d probably break some bones, but as long as I stayed conscious, I’d be all right. I was a good swimmer and the water was high, but it wouldn’t be cold. I would get out of this.

We were at the edge of the gully. Jonas let go of one of my ankles. I tried to kick him but he dodged my foot.

“Get up,” he said.

I still had dirt in my mouth, my arms were scraped and I could feel blood running down my leg. I knew physically I was no match for Jonas but I wasn’t getting to my feet. I wasn’t helping him throw me over.

“No,” I said.

He bent down and grabbed my arm, pulling me halfway off the ground. Pain sliced through my left side but I forced myself to go limp again, and as my body slumped forward, I bit his hand.

He let go and I scrambled backward. Owen appeared claws out and hissing. When Jonas came toward me, I used my good leg to kick him in the stomach. I fell to my knees. Jonas doubled over for a moment and I thought he was going to go down again. He swayed but stayed on his feet and pulled the gun out of his pocket. So he had found it. I was out of options.

Jonas pointed the gun at me. I lifted my chin and stared up at him and behind me Marcus shouted, “Drop the gun!”

For a long moment Jonas didn’t move.

“Drop the gun,” Marcus called out again. “It’s over. Just put it down.”

Finally, Jonas nodded. He lowered his arm and leaned forward, setting the gun on the ground. I got to my feet, never taking my eyes off of his face. I felt Marcus’s strong arms go around me, pulling me against his chest.

“Are you all right?” he said.

I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice to work. Jonas took a step backward.

“Stay where you are,” Marcus said.

Jonas took another step backward.

“It’s over.”

Jonas nodded. “I know.” He looked at me. “Kathleen, tell Lachlan he was the great joy of my life. Tell him that Ainsley and Colin loved him.”

I realized what he was going to do but it was too late.

He jumped.

The next few hours were a blur. Marcus called for backup and wrapped his jacket around my shoulders. He climbed down to the water but Jonas was dead.

We drove to the hospital and Marcus flashed his badge to get me seen right away. The gash on my leg and a cut on my forehead needed stitches. Dirt had to be cleaned out of all my scraped skin. The doctor said my ribs weren’t broken. Bruises were already darkening on my left side. But I was alive.

Marcus left Owen in the car with the window cracked and a chicken salad sandwich he’d gotten from the vending machine in the waiting room.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked while we waited for the nurse to come back with a prescription and instructions on how to take care of the cut on my leg.

It turned out that Owen had managed to respond to Marcus’s text with a string of nonsense letters and symbols. “I knew you had to be in trouble,” he said.

“What made you come out to Wisteria Hill?”

“Hercules. He was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. You know that photo you have on the refrigerator of Roma and Eddie the day they got married?”

I nodded. “He knocked it to the ground. Then he picked it up and brought it to me. I was looking for any clue in the house and he brought me the picture three times. Quinn’s car was parked up the street. I ran the plates. It was just too much of a coincidence and then I realized what Hercules was trying to tell me.”

I stretched out my arm and caught his hand.

“He killed Leitha,” Marcus said. “He was the only person I couldn’t eliminate. I figured it had to have been the tea.”

“It was,” I said. “He just pretended to drink it. Lachlan was his child, not his brother, Colin’s. Leitha figured it out.”

Marcus shook his head.

I swallowed a couple of times. “He killed Mike, too.”

He stared at me. His mouth worked but no words came out at first. “No,” he finally managed to say.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I told him everything Jonas had told me. “I don’t think it was just about the Finnamore money. I think he genuinely thought he would lose Lachlan if the truth came out.”

Marcus pulled one hand down over the back of his neck. “This is worse.”

“I know,” I said softly.