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SEPTEMBER YAWNED AND flexed her shoulders while she waited at the stop light. She checked on Shadow in the mirror, and smiled when he copied her yawn with additional sound effects. “Maybe another trip to the dog park on the way home, and then nap this afternoon, what do you think?”
His tail thumped on the back seat. He settled his big head on his bear-toy with a groan.
The badge on his harness identified him as a working service dog. She rarely bothered with the gear—no law required he suit up—but it circumvented questions and opened doors more quickly especially when they visited business that didn’t know them.
She circled the block before pulling into the parking lot. September checked the time. With slow morning work traffic, it had taken twenty minutes to arrive, but the bank doors should open any minute. Hopefully, she’d be in and out with the contents of the safety deposit box, and back to meet Angela by 10 o’clock. She’d left Macy dozing in the center of the guest bed, with the door securely latched, but didn’t want to leave the big cat unattended for long. He had a nose for trouble, and she suspected he’d had a paw in Shadow’s early morning escape.
An employee unlocked the door, and waved with a cheery smile. September waved back, and switched off the car. “Shadow, let’s go.”
September clipped on his leash and they walked briskly to the door. Snow still fell in fits and starts and had drifted overnight. At least the snow stayed dry in the bitter temperature, rather than becoming messy slush. Nevertheless, once inside the entry she told Shadow, “Paws.” Shadow obliged, wiping first his front feet, and then kicking his rear paws against the floor mat. The lady holding the door for them looked duly impressed. Service dogs and their partners had a hard enough time maintaining necessary access, so she made sure Shadow acted like a poster dog for furry partners wherever they went.
At the desk she asked for access to the safety deposit box, and followed the attendant’s direction. She kept credit cards, cash for their trip, and driver’s license in a zippered flap inside one of her massive coat pockets. After producing proper identification and signing the log, she and Shadow settled into a small cubby with the metal box on the table.
She stared at the box for a long time, rubbing the back of her neck. Her stomach churned, and she unconsciously rocked in her seat. She started when Shadow pushed his head and shoulders into her lap. Taking a shuddery breath, September buried her face in his black fur, realizing how close she’d been to unraveling. It had been months since she’d suffered a panic attack. Reading messages from Chris, from beyond the grave, made her insides quiver.
This could change how she felt about her past, about Chris, and impact the future she hoped to share with Combs. Now faced with the uncertainty, September wanted to hide from the past. Again. She’d been doing that half of her life.
“Enough of that.” She released Shadow and straightened in the chair. She’d run away and hidden from uncomfortable truths for far too long. According to Angela, the box held answers Chris wanted her to know. She could decide what to do about them, after she learned the truth they shared. She pulled out the wedding photo that Angela had sent and re-read the message on the back. When you’re ready, the answers are here.
September opened the box and stared at an overwhelming pile of material. Chris had collected an enormous cache of file folders stuffed full of news clippings, notepads with Chris’s familiar scrawl, and highlighted names and dates. It would take hours or maybe days to properly review everything. She needed to meet with Angela in less than an hour.
“Just a quick look. Then we’ll head out.”
Shadow woofed a soft agreement, but kept his sturdy weight pressed against her thigh to remind her: I am here.
She pulled the first file from the box, and opened it. Two newspaper clippings nested on top, both about a man named Brad Detweiller. September skimmed the first. Her heart skipped a beat to see Chris standing so strong and handsome in the picture beside the stranger. “Clear Choice Labs,” she read aloud. “In Chicago.”
Shadow whined and nudged her, and she smoothed his brow. “I lived in Chicago before I met Chris.” Back in the black days with Victor. She shuddered and turned to the more recent clipping, this one from a week ago. Detweiller looked harried, with the headline stating he’d been indicted for falsified lab results. Angela must have added it to the material. “What does Detweiller and Clear Choice Labs have to do with me?”
She looked up the phone number, made a note of it on her phone, then gathered the research into a pile and stuffed it into a carryall she’d brought for that purpose. September thanked the attendant on her way out, and Shadow wagged when the woman complimented his manners. “Good-dog, Shadow. You made me proud, baby-dog, but you always do.” He wagged harder, jumped up to press the door-bar to open the exit when asked, and led the way to the car.
Once back on the road, she thumbed her phone to dial the Chicago lab. A long shot, perhaps, but if caught off guard, maybe this Detweiller person would reveal the connection.
“Hello? Who’s this?” A woman answered.
“Uh, is this Clear Choice Labs?”
“Yes, who is this?” Why did her voice sound familiar?
“I’d like to speak with Bradley Detweiller, the owner. Is he there? This is September Day.” She slowed for a traffic light and waited impatiently as whispered conversation with others echoed from the other end of the line.
Finally, the woman came back. “We’d like to speak with him, too. Unfortunately, Mr. Detweiller killed himself.”
September gasped and nearly went through the red light. She tromped on the brake and slid two feet into the intersection before stopping. Angry horns blared displeasure, but she ignored them, frowning at the phone. “Who is this? That’s not funny.”
“You’re right, nothing about this is funny. What business did you have with the deceased? Oh, forgive me.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Officer Tee Teves. We met last summer in Texas. You helped train my K9 partner, Karma.”
MACY YAWNED, STOOD, and stretched, flexing claws into the bedding that still held September’s delightful scent. A distant sound had roused him from slumbers. After checking his food bowl—disappointingly empty—he padded to the latched bedroom door and meowed. When the request failed to bring the desired results, Macy stretched high to paw the lever handle himself, paw-pulled the bottom of the door, and then wound through the narrow opening.
He trotted to the top of the stairs to stare at the dark figure moving about the first floor. Macy’s fur bristled, coffee-colored tail a bottlebrush of alarm. He cautiously sniffed the air, committing the stranger’s signature scent to memory. He flattened himself against the wall and silently slunk down the stairway.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs he spied a glimmer peeking from beneath the closet door. Intrigued, he paw-patted the object, delighted to hear the jangle of metal. Rolling onto his side, he fished beneath the door and dragged the key fob into the entry. Macy sniffed it thoroughly: different than the intruder, but a familiar odor of someone who lived their life in the house. He pawed the keys again, liking the jangly sound. Macy grabbed the attached ribbon, lifted his head high with his prize, and continued to stalk the intruder. The jingle, so loud to cat ears, failed to alert the human’s deficient hearing.
Invisible to the stranger, he paused beneath a chair to observe the man. Noisy. Clumsy, like most people. Angry smell, and the hint of a strange cat. Macy’s whiskers pursed forward with interest piqued. When the tall stranger disappeared into the kitchen, Macy padded after him. When cold air whisper-touched his whiskers, he dropped his jangly new toy on the kitchen floor, creeping close to peer into the door left ajar.
The dank atmosphere made his nose twitch. A cold, silent car waited inside. Ultrasonic squeaks and rustles made his mouth water, and he crouched, instantly intrigued. He stalked over the threshold into the garage, closing on mousy prey one slow paw-step at a time.
Lights came on. Macy dove between nearby shelving, tail a quiver. From his hiding spot, he watched the man ratchet a metal ladder into place. The stranger climbed the ladder to reach the figure hanging over the cold car, swinging to-and-fro from an overhead fixture. He pressed a metal object into one of its dead hands so it made a POP sound.
Macy hissed and scrambled across the cement floor as far away from the scary sound and stranger as he could go.
“My day for cats. Here kitty-kitty-kitty.” He made kissy noises, and Macy froze and hissed again. “You’re just the bait I need. Nothing personal.” The man took a step closer.
Macy spat and licked his lips, poised to dash away. The man shrugged off his coat and took another step. Macy growled, low and long, and flipped his tail, but the man ignored the warning. The coat swooped through the air. Fabric fell heavily on top of him.
Macy’s growls exploded into screams and spits of surprise and fear. He flailed at the fabric, feeling the man’s arms constrict around him to snug the coat into a suffocating bundle.
“Calm down, cat, I don’t want to hurt you. I just don’t want to get bit again.”
When Macy shook off the heavy coat, the man’s gloved hand captured his pistoning rear paws while curling his other hand through his collar.
With a final contortion, Macy chomped hard on the glove and felt satisfaction when the man yelled. Arching his body, Macy twisted and adjusted mid-air for a perfect four-paw landing as his break-away collar tore loose.
Macy dove beneath the nearby car and froze in place, poised, ready to attack should the threat come closer. The stranger stooped to recover his broken collar, then retreated back into the kitchen. The door slammed, locking Macy inside the garage with the dead body swinging overhead.
