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TEDDY WATCHED SEPTEMBER’S car disappear down the street. Even though a safe, happy future beckoned with Combs—a fine man—September’s survivor’s guilt fueled her behavior to drop everything and come to South Bend. He couldn’t make the past disappear. But perhaps he could help her understand, and then overcome, whatever ugliness shadowed her life.
The software program had compiled the list of names, dates, and amounts paid. The police needed a forensic accountant to get the whole picture, but even Teddy recognized patterns of inexplicable payments. He’d bet anything that few cats changed hands, and only served as a furry smokescreen, payment for secrets kept and favors granted. He had a bad feeling about how and why September’s stalker, Victor, was connected to Sissie Turpin.
He started to close the door, and noticed Shadow’s bear-toy had caught in the jam. Before he could retrieve it, one of the cats meowed. Teddy looked up, wondering which one wanted to talk. He’d never been much into cats. Molly loved them but they’d only kept dogs.
He crossed to the two cat carriers, nifty zippered duffels with pockets for leashes and whatnot. September had left her gloves behind. He stuffed them in his back pants pocket so he’d remember to return them, and peered inside. Macy blinked, yawned, and closed his eyes. But the white cat, Sherlock, meowed again, and pawed the webbing at the front.
“That’s right, you didn’t get your food, did you, Sherlock?” Teddy saw the remains of the boiled egg. “Picky cat, you like warm food, eh? We can fix that.” He placed the bowl with the last shelled egg in the microwave and set it to 30 seconds. When it PINGED, he retrieved the bowl, turned—
The dark-clad man jerked open the door, and pointed a gun. Teddy froze.
“The thumb drive. Hand it to me. Now.”
Teddy nodded toward the rear of the vehicle. “There, plugged in the port.” He’d already saved a copy to his secure cloud. He didn’t move. “May I get it for you?” He licked suddenly dry lips, but otherwise remained frozen as the man kicked away the dog’s toy, and reached the computer, all the while keeping the gun trained on Teddy’s mid-section.
The man with the scorched face hadn’t bothered to wear a mask. That told Teddy he had moments to live. A sudden calm descended. He met the impassive gaze with stoic determination. He wasn’t afraid, but he’d rather not rejoin Molly today.
Mr. Bleak broke eye contact to retrieve the thumb drive. As soon as his attention shifted, Teddy lobbed the microwaved egg at him and dodged the other direction to the door. His knees protested, and he fell the final step, just as an explosion jarred the inside of his RV.
Cats screamed. The man yelled.
Teddy scrambled to regain his feet. He slipped and slid on the icy drive. Another gunshot, this one muted compared to the first, coincided with a shriek of pain in his leg. Maybe he’d get to see Molly today, after all...
Porch lights blazed on. Theo stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Dad! What’s going on?”
“Inside, get inside! Call 911!” Teddy tried to yell but his voice failed him. The dark man, now standing above his prone form, would kill him, and then Theo. He stared up at the merciless face weirdly clotted with bits of white and yellow.
A hundred-twenty pounds of Great Dane launched through the air. Kismet hit the killer hard, and Teddy heard the rush of air when together they struck the ground. Mr. Bleak cursed, and scrambled away, tripping over and squeaking the stuffed toy before escaping into the pre-dawn morning.
Theo knelt beside him, squeezing Teddy’s hand. Begging him to hold on...hold on....
Teddy passed out with Kismet snuggled tight against his other side, crying and licking his face.
