Two

“I—I have blood on my hands.” I tried my best not to sound as panicked as I felt. “Shawn, please check Magpie. She might be injured.”

I stared down at my palms again and realized my hands were shaking. Did the cat sneak into that sofa because she was wounded? Or vomiting blood? Cats usually hide when they’re ill or hurt, so that might explain why she was hunkered down in an old piece of furniture.

Finn held her firmly for Shawn’s inspection, and after a thorough examination, Shawn smiled at me. “She’s fine. Looks as healthy as the last time I saw her before she managed to open her crate and get out the cattery door.”

“Then there’s blood on that sofa. Or under the cushions.” I glanced at Ed. “Could there be a dead animal in there? Because this is not just a little bit of blood.” I held my hands out to him.

He grimaced. “Guess we have to tear the thing apart and then I’m takin’ it to the dump. Sure as heck can’t trade this old thing to anyone and I don’t want it around. I’ll get my big knife and start taking it apart . . . see what we got.”

“You find this outside somewhere, Ed?” Shawn asked.

The old guy had already wrangled around the sofa and was behind the store counter. “Yup. By the clothing donation box they got set up on Harkins Road.” Ed held up a container of disinfecting wipes. “Catch, Jillian.”

He tossed them to me and I started cleaning my hands, grateful to be rid of the mess. Meanwhile, Finn fetched the crate from my car and brought it in. With my help, Finn put his new kitty in. Within seconds she began fiddling with the latch.

All of us now had blood somewhere on us and I passed the wipes around.

Ed said, “That’s what you get for sticking your hand in there. I wasn’t about to get chewed up by an angry cat.”

“She’s not angry, Gramps. She’s scared.”

“Whatever you say, son.” Ed sounded unconvinced.

Shawn put his face close to the sofa cushions. “Can’t hear anything, can’t smell anything but blood. Probably any animal in there was freshly killed by our friend Magpie.”

“You think so?” I didn’t want to believe it, but cats are predators.

Shawn read my mind. “You’ve been around cats long enough to know that’s probably what happened. A bird or squirrel or a rat, no doubt. I’ll help Ed take this old thing to the dump after we find out what’s inside. A critter that needs burying, if you’re up to the job.”

Finn said, “Are we dismantling the sofa right now? I hate to leave Yoshi locked up much longer.”

I had plenty to do myself and didn’t want to end up with the task of burying a poor, dead animal. I did have a wedding in my imminent future, after all. Then something caught my eye—a coppery glint between the cushions. I almost touched it, but Shawn grabbed my hand. He’d seen it, too.

I looked at him, my heart beating a lot faster than seconds ago. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Looks like a bullet to me. Guess we won’t be touching this thing until our favorite evidence collector checks it out first. I’m sure you or Ed can call up Deputy Candace Carson, tell her we’ve just made her day.” Shawn glanced at Finn. “I need to get back to the shelter. You coming?”

“Somebody probably shot a squirrel or something, huh?” Finn said, sounding concerned.

Shawn and Ed exchanged skeptical glances. Shawn said, “Looks like .22 ammo to me. Not exactly a hunting gun. But we can’t make assumptions. Lord knows Candace has drilled that into me by now.”

“I promised to help Shawn with the bales of hay he has to move or I’d stay until you and Candace get this figured out.” Finn looked at Ed. “I can come back and we can move this out of here later, okay, Gramps?”

“Son, I got it in here and I can get it out. Been hauling stuff for years, long before you were born.”

“Um, hello?” I said. “What’s with y’all? You think I can’t lift a little piece of furniture? Ed, Candace and I can handle this. Go on, you two.”

Finn smiled. “Sorry. We’re sounding like a bunch of macho guys, aren’t we? I’ll let Yoshi out, say good-bye and meet you outside, Shawn.”

Soon they were gone, leaving Ed, Yoshi and me alone with a dirty love seat and a determined cat. How long before she got out of that crate?

I focused on the sofa and felt a stirring inside that told me we wouldn’t be finding any dead animals today. Maybe because after all the times I’d helped Candace on cases, she’d taught me well, taught me to pay attention to my instincts and even the tiniest of fears.

I tossed the dirty hand wipes into the wastebasket by the shop door and pulled my phone from my jeans pocket. Tom had installed a brand-new cat cam with all sorts of amazing features last month. I could interact with my Chablis, Syrah and Merlot. The cameras in my house moved so I could see them anywhere, and if I wanted to tell them I would be home soon or I missed them, I could turn on the “talk feature.” Technology was so fantastic.

I resisted the urge to activate a chat, though. This whole sofa mystery came first.

I hit the speed dial for Mercy PD, and B.J., the dispatcher, answered and put me through to Candace.

“Hey there,” she said. “I hope you’re calling to meet me for lunch. I’m starving already.”

“You realize it’s only ten in the morning?”

“I know. Long, boring day. What’s up?”

I told her and you’d have thought a bag of gold just landed smack in the middle of her desk. She didn’t even bother to say she was on her way, but of course she was.

While we waited, Ed squatted and secured the crate latch with a wire before Magpie worked her way out. Candace would probably treat her as evidence even if we ended up finding a dead squirrel.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before my best friend and the finest police officer in Mercy burst through Ed’s door.

Her forest green uniform pants and khaki shirt hid her curves, but she was a beautiful young woman. Candace agreed to actually wear a dress when she and my stepdaughter stood up for me at my wedding this coming Saturday. I’d seen the dress and I was sure she’d be gorgeous that day even if she felt less than comfortable.

She tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I take it this nasty-looking thing is the sofa in question?”

She set her evidence kit on the floor, put her hands behind her back and leaned over to give the love seat a thorough visual inspection. “I see the bullet you told me about. I can smell the blood, too. From my experience, I’d say the stain’s not that old.”

I said, “Since Ed found this thing outside and there was a cat hiding under the cushions, it’s probably animal blood, right?”

Candace nodded. “I see plenty of cat hair. Could be another cat in there. Maybe a dead one.”

“No way.” I couldn’t stomach the thought. Any animal we found would be terrible, but a cat? No, no, no.

She took her camera from the evidence bag and snapped a lot of pictures—front and back, above and below, and finally focused on the bullet. “Now, let’s find out what we’ve got here.” She removed a small jar and a pair of thick tweezers from the satchel. “I’ll collect this bullet. Looks like a .22 caliber.”

Ed nodded his agreement.

The bullet wasn’t embedded in the cushions, just sort of tucked between them. When Candace grasped it and held it up, a speck of blood was barely visible on the small copper object. Candace dropped it in the jar, and it clinked when it hit the glass. Such an innocent, almost pretty sound. I found it grating and . . . wrong.

Candace held up the jar and studied the bullet. “Not too damaged. I’ll bag and tag this even if I end up throwing it out. Can’t be too careful.” Out came an evidence bag and she took her time writing the where, when and whatever concerning the bullet using a permanent marker. Then she signed her name.

Her slow and deliberate pace only made my anxiety grow. I was almost wishing for a dead squirrel about now, but immediately felt guilty. There could be a completely innocent explanation for the blood—one I couldn’t think of off the top of my head.

Next, Candace snapped on a pair of latex gloves and removed a packaged swab. She smiled. “Science is great. This is a test for blood. Just have to rub it in one little spot.” She glanced between me and Ed, who’d retreated behind the counter. I got the feeling he was nervous, too. “By the way, this is just what we call a presumptive test. If we find anything suspicious, then—”

“Can you please get on with it?” I sounded impatient and I’m usually a pretty easygoing person. Maybe my feelings about this sofa and its secrets had merged with my anxiety about getting married, because I was anything but calm about now.

When Candace’s eyes widened as she saw the change in color on the swab, I understood what we were dealing with before she said a word.

She spoke the words I didn’t want to hear. “It’s blood and it’s human.”

Goose bumps rose on my arms.

Ed piped in then. “Don’t have to be ominous, right? Nosebleed? Female troubles? Kid with a busted head from a fall?”

“Yes. Some kind of accident, right?” I added.

Candace nodded. “Sure. All possible. But see, there’s this bullet. Not an unused bullet, by the way. One that’s been fired and bears a spot of blood.”

Ed’s eyes filled with sadness. “I should have followed my gut, left that thing where it was dumped. An uneasy feeling come on when I was shoving it up in my pickup. When I got back here and heard the cat inside, I thought that’s why I was all troubled inside.”

“Ed, you did right.” Candace was staring at the love seat, hands on hips. “I’ll need your help, though. Tell me again exactly where you found this darn thing.”

“I can write it down,” he said.

“I’m the one who needs to write it down for my report,” she replied. “You, on the other hand, need to come with me to show me the exact spot where you found it.”

“What you need me for? I don’t know nothin’ else, Candace.”

“It’ll be fine. I simply need to know the position of the sofa when you found it, where you pulled your truck in . . . details like that. I’m a detail girl.” She smiled broadly, probably hoping to quell Ed’s obvious apprehension.

“But who’ll watch my shop? And—”

“I can do that,” I offered.

Candace removed the gloves and took out her cell phone. “Nope. Need an officer here to keep this as official as possible. The furniture could be evidence or it could be nothing, but I’m not taking any chances. I’m thinking you got a cat and dog who could use your attention, Jillian.” She nodded at the crate. Yoshi was lying next to it, looking far too calm for Yoshi. Maybe he was scared, too.

“Yoshi can stay with Ed. But are you saying Magpie’s not evidence?” I asked.

“Not really. I’ll get a cat hair sample for comparison to what’s on the sofa. Other than that, I don’t need anything.”

After she put a bit of Magpie’s fur in an evidence envelope, it was time for me to leave. Not wanting to get near the sofa, I blew Ed a kiss from the entrance rather than giving him the hug I was sure he could use about now. “I’ll be in touch. And don’t worry, Ed.”

Soon Magpie and I were on our way, but my nervousness had merged with curiosity. How did that blood get on the sofa? And what would they find when they returned to the spot where Ed found it this morning? These thoughts would nag at me until Candace filled me in.

I glanced at the crate on the passenger seat next to me. Magpie would have much preferred to be out of there if her continued clawing on the latch was any clue.

“What do you know about blood and bullets, Magpie?” I said softly.