“This might be easier,” Tate’s deep voice rolled smoothly through her phone speaker. “I won’t ask how or why Gina talked you into this, but thank you.”
“Look, this is awkward, and I’m really not a fan of going into someone’s house when they aren’t home,” Nettie said, already spinning on her heel to march back toward her car. “I’ll have Gina come by shortly and?—”
“No.” His tone snapped like a whip. “Just go inside – now.”
“No,” she shot back, spinning around with fire in her veins. Her voice pitched hotter, faster. “I’m sure not doing it if you are going to order me about or get all nasty with me. This call can be over right-freakin’-now, Tate.”
“Go inside, please,” he stressed, firmer now but less sharp. “There are bobcats in the area, and I am concerned because the garage door isn’t closed yet. Please go inside where I know you are safe.”
Her jaw went slack. “B–Bobcats?”
“Yes.”
Forget the coffin or green fog… feral feline killer worked just as well, Nettie thought immediately. Every muscle in her body locked up. She squeaked, grabbed the garage door handle, and shoved her way into the house. Immediately, the shrill beeping of the alarm system went off like a fire drill, sending her heart into a panicked sprint.
She scrambled around, looking wildly for the keypad.
“The alarm pad’s on the wall…” Tate barked into her ear.
“I’m looking!”
“It’s on the wall?—”
“You said that! Which wall?”
“It’s a hallway—there are two walls!”
“I see that!”
“Obviously you don’t.”
“Hush.”
“It’s on the wall!”
“I’m looking at the wall!”
“If it’s not on your left—then turn around!”
“Quit yelling at me!” Nettie shrieked, fumbling desperately.
“You’re yelling at me!” Tate exclaimed in disbelief. “The cops are going to come?—”
“I know! I know!”
“If they show up, the password is hockey?—”
“Shush so I can—” Nettie ordered, finally spotting the panel - behind the door panel and not on either wall. Rolling her eyes, she punched the numbers with shaking fingers until the alarm cut off mid-wail. Silence flooded back in, broken only by the frantic hammering of her heart.
“Did you get it?” Tate asked.
“Oh my goodness, can you give me a moment to breathe? Sheesh, my hands are shaking. I do not like stress, and this is stressful.” Nettie pressed her palm to her chest, trying to calm her racing pulse. She blinked around at the shadowy entryway. “Don’t you have any freakin’ light bulbs? Why’s it so dark in here?”
“Cats can see in the dark.”
“Yes, but they are also sensitive, and it stresses them to be in pitch-black.”
“Oh my gosh—are you serious?” he mocked, and her temper roared to life again. Gosh, he was so annoying sometimes.
