Camilla recognized him first. “Clay? What are you doing with that gun?”
Heather’s eyes widened. She remained seated in her chair, unable to move. Finally, she asked, “What are you doing here? Are you here to arrest me again?”
Clay moved closer to Heather and pulled something from his coat pocket. He tossed it toward her. She looked dumbly at a small pad of paper and pen Clay had just dropped on her lap, and then she glanced up to him, the gun now pointed at her face.
“Listen carefully. I want you to write: Brian, I love you. I’m sorry. And then sign it Heather,” Clay ordered.
* * *
Hunny, who had been napping behind the sofa, woke up when a crashing sound startled her. She assumed Bella was up to some mischievous prank, so she decided not to investigate. The sleepy canine found it cozy behind Heather’s sofa, and she wanted to nap.
But then a familiar voice caught her attention. If she was not mistaken, that voice belonged to the man Walt had instructed her to avoid. She crawled to one end of the sofa, peeked out into the living room, and saw a man who resembled the one Walt had warned her about. Hunny moved back behind the sofa, out of sight, trying her best to obey Walt. He had sternly conveyed to Hunny that if she ever encountered the man again, she must do whatever necessary to stay out of his sight and, no matter what he did, not to engage because the man would hurt Hunny.
* * *
“You want me to write a love letter to Brian?” Heather frowned.
Camilla, no longer on the sofa, stood next to Heather, watching Clay. “What are you doing, Clay? Put that gun away!”
“Do as I say!” Clay pointed the gun briefly at the pad of paper and pen on Heather’s lap and then pointed it back to her head, unaware of Camilla’s ghostly presence.
“Clay, she didn’t kill me!” Camilla shouted. “I know you’re angry because they let her go. But please don’t do this. She’s innocent.”
Both terrified and curious, Heather glanced from Clay to Camilla and back to Clay. Heather hadn’t immediately recognized Clay when he had burst into the room moments earlier. But when Camilla said his name and Heather realized who it was, she thought he had come to arrest her again. Perhaps he’d found additional evidence that he believed supported a case against her. Yet in the next breath, she wondered why he wasn’t wearing his uniform. But when he asked her to write a note, her already pounding heart dropped.
A meow broke Heather’s concentration and caught Clay’s attention. He looked down at the calico cat now weaving in and out between his feet.
“Bella, go,” Heather blurted.
Clay gripped the gun aimed at Heather and then quickly glanced at the feline at his feet. Without hesitation, his free hand reached down and grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck. Bella let out a hiss in protest and tried attacking the gloved hand yet could not reach her captor’s skin.
“Let her go!” Heather cried out. “You’re hurting her!”
“Clay, let the cat go. You shouldn’t hold her like that. She’s not a kitten!” Camilla begged.
“You don’t want me to hurt the cat, then write the note. When you do, I’ll let her go. And if I have to let this damn cat go before you write the note, I’ll kill it first.”
Fearing for Bella’s life, Heather reluctantly picked up the pen and pad of paper. She opened the pad of paper to the first page, set it on the end table, and wrote out the words Clay had given her. After she finished, she looked at Clay. “Let her go now.”
“First, let me see the note,” he ordered.
Heather held up the note for him to read.
Clay nodded. “Okay, set the notebook on the table next to you and stand up. Once you do, I’ll drop the cat.”
Heather quickly complied, and the moment she stood up, he dropped the cat. Once Bella’s paws hit the floor, she flew across the room and under the sofa.
* * *
Hunny remained hidden behind the sofa, listening to the jumble of human words she couldn’t understand. When she had heard Bella’s hissing, she didn’t think too much about it because Bella loved to hiss at her. And then she wondered if Walt had warned Bella about the man. Or perhaps the man only had an issue with dogs, not cats.
As Hunny speculated on what might be going on in the living room, a bundle of hissing fur rocketed under the sofa straight in her direction. To Hunny’s surprise, Bella’s hissing stopped, and instead of initiating a game of torment the pitty, Bella snuggled up next to Hunny’s side. Curious about what was going on in the living room, Hunny nudged Bella with her nose before crawling to the edge of the sofa. She peeked out and focused on Camilla, attempting to get her attention.
* * *
It wasn’t until Clay released Bella and the cat flew under the sofa did Heather remember that not only was Hunny at her house—she slept behind the sofa. For a moment Heather had been relieved when Clay released Bella, but now she was terrified that sweet little Hunny might come poking her head out from behind the sofa and get herself shot.
Heather didn’t have long to worry about Hunny or Bella, because the next moment Clay ordered her to go upstairs with him.
“Why do you want her to go upstairs?” Camilla asked.
Heather might have voiced the same question as Camilla, but did what Clay asked, considering the gun pointed at her. Plus, she didn’t want to create a ruckus that might tempt Hunny out from behind the sofa. Heather knew Clay would shoot the dog if given the opportunity.
Heart racing, her right hand clutching the rail, Heather walked up the stairs with Clay right behind her. She wished Marie would show up and then remembered Camilla. Perhaps Camilla didn’t have Marie’s powers, but she had the power to get Marie.
“Camilla, please get Marie, now! Quick!” Heather called out.
“Acting crazy won’t help you.” Clay laughed, nudging Heather along with the barrel’s end of his gun.
“If he could just hear me,” Camilla cried. “He’s doing this for me.”
“I don’t care why he’s doing this; go get Marie!” Heather snapped. “She’s at Chief MacDonald’s house. You know where that is?” Clay laughed at Heather’s ramblings.
They had already reached the top of the stairs and had only walked a few steps down the hallway when Clay pushed Heather onto the floor. Heather rolled onto her back and looked up at Clay, who had just tucked his gun into his belt. She tried getting up, but he pushed her down with one booted foot.
“What are you doing?” Heather screamed.
Clay smiled and then pulled a rope from an inside pocket of his jacket. “Haven’t you figured it out? You wrote your suicide note. They’ll find it when they find you hanging from the top of your staircase.” He held the rope with both hands and began fashioning a noose.
“Why would I kill myself?” Heather asked as she tried scooting away, only to be held in place by his foot.
“Because you loved Brian so much and were so jealous of his beautiful ex-wife that you couldn’t help yourself. It would have been easier had you simply confessed. You would have saved not just your home, but your life.”
“But she didn’t kill me. Don’t do this, Clay!” Camilla pleaded to deaf ears.
“I didn’t kill Camilla. I didn’t! Damn it, Camilla, go get Marie!”
Clay laughed. “I know you didn’t kill her, you stupid woman. Because I killed her.” He knelt down, holding Heather in place, using his body’s weight while trying to loop the noose around her head.
Heather refused to die, as Walt had died during his first lifetime. She let out an unholy scream from the depths of her soul while flailing her limbs and body in all directions. Camilla’s screams along with her own filled Heather’s head as she fought with her attacker.
Heather glimpsed her savior from the corner of her eye as the pit bull, who had just raced up the staircase, jumped onto Clay’s back and dug her teeth into his right shoulder.
Clay let out a scream that rivaled the one Heather had made moments earlier. With Clay now on the floor with the pit bull still in attack mode, Heather stumbled to her feet and looked down at the man now fighting for his life.
To Heather’s horror, Clay grabbed his gun from beneath his belt, and while still on his back while sprawled on the floor, he aimed his gun not at Heather, but at the dog, who viciously and relentlessly attacked his leg.
Without hesitation, Heather grabbed her bronze statue of Artemis from the hall table, intending to stop Clay from shooting Hunny by hitting him over the head. Heather brought the statue down on Clay’s head at the same time he pulled the trigger. Both man and dog went limp simultaneously.
Heather stood over the man and dog, unable to move, the hallway eerily quiet until a timid meow broke the silence. Heather looked toward the stairs and saw Bella’s head peeking up from the top step.
Heather dropped to her knees by Hunny and cried, believing Clay had shot a fatal bullet. But the moment she pressed her face against Hunny’s fur, she felt a heartbeat.
“She’s alive,” Heather sobbed.
“So is he,” Camilla, who knelt by Clay, warned.
Heather jumped up and grabbed Clay’s gun, gingerly holding it with two fingers before setting it on the table that had moments earlier held the bronze statue. She picked up the rope Clay had brought and began securing the unconscious man’s hands behind his back. While securing his hands, she looked at Camilla and snapped, “Now please get Marie!”
“I would have, but I don’t know where Chief MacDonald lives!”
Heather quickly rattled off the location of Chief MacDonald’s house. The next moment, Camilla disappeared. Heather now stood alone in her hallway. She looked down to Hunny and saw a concerned Bella circling Hunny, gently butting her head against the pit bull’s fur, trying to wake her. She also saw the dog’s blood, yet not the wound.
Uncomfortable with Clay’s proximity to the injured animal, knowing he could regain consciousness at any moment and finish Hunny with several quick kicks from his heavy boots, she had to move one of them, and she couldn’t wait for Marie.
Heather understood it was too risky to move Hunny. She pushed Clay’s body onto one end of the hall runner and rolled him up in the long, narrow carpet like a burrito. She had secured his arms behind his back, but she also wanted to immobilize his legs. When she reached the end of the runner, Clay moaned as he slowly regained consciousness.
Heather left Clay at the far end of the hallway, stood up, and raced toward the staircase and Hunny. When she reached the dog’s side, Bella looked up at her and cried pitifully.
Heather dropped to Hunny’s side and located the gunshot wound. She pulled off her blouse and pressed the fabric against the wound to stop the blood while she prayed for Marie to arrive.
The next minute, Heather’s prayers were answered.