“No talking, please,” the female uniform called out.
“Nap time, I guess,” I murmured, and slid off the settee onto the floor, grabbed a throw pillow off another chair, stuffed it under my head, and closed my eyes.
Jen wokeme up a while later. I jerked up, adrenaline spiking through me. A throwback to dealing with Aunty Mommy. The combination of sleeping on the floor and somebody shaking me awake put me right back in that headspace.
I sucked in a breath as I realized where I was. I blew it out slowly, blinking away the grittiness in my eyes.
“You okay?” Lorraine asked.
I nodded. “Just startled.” And half expecting a kick to the gut, but she didn’t need to know that.
“You’ve been summoned.”
I looked around. We were the only two left. “Where’s Jen and the assbite?”
“They got called out already. Well, Officer Mike wanted you after Flannery, but Jen went instead. Said you needed sleep.”
“And he accepted that?”
“You know how Jen can be. I got the distinct impression nobody wanted to have to shoot her and they’d have had to if they didn’t back down, so she got her way.”
“Sounds about right.” I got to my feet, remembering I’d thrown my shoes somewhere. I’d have to find them. I wouldn’t have cared if they were mine, but they weren’t and they were one of a kind.
The female cop who’d been on guard duty stood just a few feet away, listening. Probably why she had let us talk. “A fair assessment,” she agreed.
I smoothed my hands over my dress and hair before following her out. She directed me into a larger salon. The furniture within had a more masculine feel—chunky and upholstered in dark leather with decorative brass nails. It all looked handmade.
Mikey leaned against the arm of a couch, flipping through his notebook. He straightened when I came in, the uniform closing the door behind me.
“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to one in particular. It faced another chair, where he no doubt planned to sit.
At least they looked comfortable. I went ahead and obeyed. The faster I got through this, the faster I could go help look for the cats.
“I had Lydia taken to the hospital,” he said as he settled into his chair. “She’s being assessed and treated. I sent a forensic photographer to take pictures of everything.”
“Good.”
“Just wanted you to know I was on top of it. Flannery will have a tough time weaseling out of this one.”
“If you say so.” I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. At the moment he represented the system that had so totally failed Lydia. It wasn’t fair to make him their figurehead, but I wasn’t in the mood to be fair at the moment. “Did anybody find the cats?”
He nodded. “They were in cages in the bedroom.”
“They’re okay?”
“As far as I can tell. One of them has a bunch of little stripes shaved into its fur. I guess—” He broke off with a grimace. “Not something I should discuss.”
“That’s how he showed Lydia where he’d cut the cat, wasn’t it? He couldn’t afford to kill them for real or he wouldn’t have leverage,” I mused aloud. “So he shaved where he’d cut so she’d know he was serious.”
Mikey smiled appreciatively. “Something along those lines, yes.”
“So what do you want to know?”
“I need your version of what happened up here.”
My brows rose. “The real one or the sanitized one?”
Another smile. “Real one. I’ll take notes on what I need to remember.”
