The bathroom was empty, including the super creepy, deep tub. I’d approached slowly, praying I wouldn’t find some sacrificed animal or dead horse’s head left as a warning. I’m not sure why I thought it, but it seemed like a mob thing to do. Up the back spiral stairs to the top-floor office, everything was fine—not a single thing amiss.
At the top of the office stairs, I slumped and looked up through the beautiful Victorian round skylight at the darkening night.Drawing in a long, reedy breath, I exhaled, letting the taser fall to my side.
Hand on the rail, I descended and turned the corner into my bathroom, took a shower, and put on my comfy robe. My tired reflection in the mirror stared back at me. What was I going to do? WhatcouldI do?
Not to my surprise, my mind thought of Gray.
I slid the phone off the bathroom counter and pulled up the Ghost web app. My thumb scrolled to the bottom where I found our last encrypted conversation from months ago.I re-read his words, his sly, teasing way of saying everything drawing a smile to my lips. I typed out a new message.
WhatsUpButtercup: Where are you? I could use some advice right about now. I need you.
Like the eight messages I’d sent last fall after seeing him in the warehouse, I didn’t expect a reply, but that didn’t mean I’d give up trying. I slid the phone into my robe pocket and left the bathroom, flicking off the light as though it had offended me.
Crawling into bed, spread-eagle across the comforter, I eventually rummaged through the blankets for the book I’d fallen asleep reading last night. When I found it, I mustered just enough energy to right myself and plop back against the pillows. Mr. Beans circled his way into a ball on my stomach and purred.
While I read about love in the age of Queen Charlotte, I tried to ignore the small noises on the roof, returning as they had last night. Just pigeons, I told myself.
When I finally started to doze off, I ensured my taser made its way under my pillow, beside a dagger-like letter opener I’d snagged off the desk upstairs. Tomorrow I’d try to think up a plan.
Going to the police felt risky. They wouldn’t be much help if it were the mafia, anyway—half of them were probably involved. Maybe Clementine could find someone to help. She knew more seedy characters than I did, and I was confident she had a contact involved in that world somehow.
Chapter 7
Gray
I arrived in New York and stashed my truck in a monthly pay lot. Taking my rucksack, I set out toward the West Village. I was tired from the journey, but still buzzing with determination to get to Betty.
I’d watched her in her house through the screening app on my cell phone during the drive down. I prayed they wouldn’t make any moves while I was still far away from her, knowing there’d be nothing I could do to stop whatever they had planned. The fear and desperation I felt in this moment dredged up a lot of old memories and emotions, and feelings of hopelessness. The panic was cresting just over the horizon.
It was midnight. The dark streets were peaceful for me to navigate, and I found my way to the back alley behind her townhouse.
Last year, I’d been able to access her home through the skylight, and I hoped this would still be the case. I’d dislodged one of the antique panes, turning it into a latched opening I could slide in and out of with silent ease. It’d taken several days to make it watertight while still being discreet, and I hoped they hadn’t discovered it when the other skylight in the main stairwell got repaired. I’d destroyed that one when I broke in to steal the PERL painting, and made a mess of it on purpose. It hurt to do it to something so gorgeous and original to the home, but I loved the theatrics it created.
Betty’s backyard and the alley behind contained a garage for her car, a tall fence, and dumpsters. The fenced garden space was long and rectangular, peppered with plenty of foliage that hid me while I approached the house. My feet squelched on the ground, which was wet from the recent rain.
The weather here was in stark contrast to the weather at the cabin. Being at the elevation I was in Canada, and in the northern position on the globe, it’d still be cold there for some time. It felt as if I’d gone on a tropical vacation.
On the back right of her house, there was a vertical fire escape. I had also modified the roof access, making it easy to lower the first ladder while ensuring it remained secure from other predators. Using a plastic hook tied to a small extendable pole, I flipped the hidden latch and grabbed the bottom rung. I gave it a hearty tug, praying it wouldn’t make too much noise.
After getting it down, hinges squealing only briefly, I reached around and grabbed a can of WD-40 from a side pocket of my bag. With a heavy hand, I liberally lubricated the springs, ceasing any additional sound. I flipped the can in my hand. I loved this stuff.
There was a rustling from a nearby bush, and I went rigid, holding the can out to use it like a weapon.
Mew.
I let my eyes close in relief and let out a frustrated sigh. It was a damn cat. I scanned my surroundings, trying to pinpoint the noise’s origin when I heard it again, and there it was.
Two large yellow eyes stared back at me from a bush. It appeared I was attracting animals like a Disney princess. Maybe my feral nature made me approachable.
Unable to resist, I stepped away from the ladder and knelt down, letting my bag slide off my shoulder. There was a tin of oily fish in my pack, so I rummaged through the small pocket where I kept various odds and ends and pulled it out.
“Would you like some food?” I asked.
A tinny sound filled the air as I curled back the lid of the can and plucked out a little fish, head, tail and all. It dripped with olive oil. The kitten began purring as it climbed out of the bush. Without hesitation, he rubbed against my leg.
The smell of the fish was quite pungent and surely irresistible to a hungry feline. It smelled good to me, too. I suppose that was the Italian in me.
With the fish held aloft before him, the little black kitten started licking the oil before taking the entire belly in its teeth and chewing through it. I replaced the rucksack on my back and waited for him to finish before plucking him up and placing him on top of my bag, just behind my head. He held on for dear life, licking his cheeks and purring in my ear.
