Cat Trick (24 page)

“Is your shoulder all right?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said.

“Someone should take a look at it.”

“Maggie’s already taken care of that.”

“Everything that happened at Eric’s wasn’t enough for you?” he said.

I realized then how very angry he was. “I tried to call you,” I said. “I did call
you. You were talking to Wren and then Liam.” I stopped and looked away for a moment.
“When Maggie said that Alex wanted to do a walk-through of the setup tonight, I figured
there was a pretty good chance he was going to plant something to make it look like
Georgia had killed Mike. She’s been running and hiding for the past three years, trying
to stay away from her ex-in-laws. I was afraid she’d bolt again—or even worse, that
they’d find her and start harassing her again. What did you want me to do?”

I’d expected him to say “Nothing,” but instead he just looked at me. “Trust me,” he
said.

“I do trust you.”

He looked past me, over my shoulder. I waited, and his eyes came back to my face.
“No, you don’t, Kathleen.” He gestured at Hercules. “I almost think you trust those
cats more than you trust me.” He held up a finger before I could speak. “Did you think
you were the only one who was suspicious of Alex Scott and his brother? I was working
a lot of the same information, and in time, I probably would have gotten to the same
place. But I have to play by the rules.”

He stared up at the darkening sky for a moment. “The award that Alex got the night
of that fund-raising dinner? The only fingerprints that were on it were Christopher’s.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I could barely get the words out, and my heart was pounding
in the hollow at the base of my throat.

Marcus looked down at me. “Twice, twice tonight you went rushing in to fix things
because you thought I was too incompetent to do my job.”

Suddenly there was a lump in my throat and the burn of unshed tears in my eyes. “I
don’t think you’re incompetent,” I whispered. “I just . . . It was complicated.”

His lips were pulled into a tight line. “Just once, Kathleen, just once it would be
nice if you had a little faith in me.”

Maggie was on her way back to us. “You can go,” Marcus said. He didn’t look at me,
and his voice was as cold as winter ice in the lake. He turned and walked away, and
I felt the tears start to slide down my face.

24

M
aggie moved her car into her parking spot behind River Arts and drove my truck home.
She didn’t ask what had happened between Marcus and me; she just squeezed my hand,
pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and handed it to me.

Owen sat in the middle of the truck’s bench seat, sending me concerned looks every
few minutes. Hercules sat on my lap, his head against my chest in sympathy.

Maggie waylaid Roma in the driveway, and she must have told her something had happened
with Marcus, because Roma kept her questions solely about my shoulder. “I’m sorry,
Kathleen,” she said. “That needs to be seen by a real doctor.” I was too upset to
argue.

The two of them drove me to the ER, which was miraculously quiet for a Sunday night.
The doctor who examined my shoulder decided I probably had some strained tendons and
ligaments. He put my arm in a sling, gave me some painkillers and told me to ice and
rest the arm.

“Why don’t I stay with you?” Maggie said when Roma pulled into the driveway.

I forced myself to give her a small smile. “I appreciate that, but if you really want
to do something for me, go help Liam let everyone know what’s happened. And would
you call Abigail and get her to check on Georgia? Please? That would make me feel
better.”

She and Roma exchanged looks.

“I’m all right, really,” I said. “I’m just going to take a couple of these pills and
go to bed.”

“Okay,” Maggie said.

“If you need anything, you call me,” Roma warned.

“I will,” I said.

Maggie walked me to the back door and gave me a hug. “He won’t stay mad forever,”
she whispered.

I let myself into the kitchen. Both cats were waiting. I kicked off my shoes and knelt
beside them. Owen immediately began sniffing the sling. Hercules climbed up on my
lap and licked my chin. I wasn’t going to sit around on the floor, crying. I was going
to fix things with Marcus. I was going to keep apologizing until he listened.

His cell phone went to voice mail. I wasn’t surprised. There was no answer at his
house. I heard something clatter to the floor in the kitchen. I went out to find Owen
and Hercules with my truck keys between them. “You’re not exactly subtle,” I said,
bending to pick up the key ring. “Then again, if I see him in person, maybe I can
get him to listen.”

Owen meowed loudly. I looked at Hercules, and after what seemed to be a moment’s hesitation,
he gave a soft meow as well. I knew it was a bad idea to be driving one-handed, but
I was past caring.

The cats followed me out to the truck, and there didn’t seem to be any reason not
to let them come. This time Owen looked out the passenger window while Herc sat beside
me and stared out the windshield.

Marcus wasn’t down by the tents. He wasn’t at the police station, either. We drove
all over the downtown, but there was no sign of him or his car. I ground my teeth
together against the gnawing pain in my shoulder and drove out to his little house.
It was in darkness and there was no SUV in the driveway.

I tried his cell again and his home phone. Voice mail, both times.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Hercules leaned against my side, and Owen walked
across the front seat to rub his furry cheek against my good hand. “Let’s go home,”
I said.

I pulled into the driveway, turned off the truck and pulled the key out of the ignition.
“I ruined everything with Marcus,” I said. I sucked in a breath. “It’s over, and maybe
it never really got started.”

I walked around the side of the house with the cats trailing me. I didn’t see the
chair until I almost fell over it. It was sitting on the path in front of the back
stairs.

My rocking chair.

It wasn’t in pieces anymore. It was all there, every joint strong and tight, with
a new leather back and seat. It was back together, every single piece.

The chair looked wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

But not nearly as wonderful as the long-legged detective who was sitting on my back
step.

ABOUT
THE
AUTHOR

Sofie Kelly
is an author and mixed-media artist who lives on the East Coast with her husband
and daughter. In her spare time she practices Wu-style tai chi and likes to prowl
around thrift stores. And she admits to having a small crush on Matt Lauer.

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