her couch and eating while she watched the news. Then back to bed, and maybe, by the next morning, she’d feel as if she’d finally caught up on her sleep.
* * *
T HE NEXT THING Laney knew, someone was knocking on her door. Before she came fully awake, she dreamed it was Ethan, coming to check on her again. So when she opened her eyes and realized it was dark outside, she was surprised and, at first, a little disoriented.
It took her a few seconds to remember that it wasn’t morning. She’d lain down for a nap after getting home from the police station. But how long had she slept? The knock sounded again, startling her. Oh, right. Someone was at the door.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped on her shoes. She hadn’t undressed to nap, so she still had on the shirt and slacks she’d worn this morning. She went into the foyer and called out, “Who is it?”
A soft female voice said, “Hello? Hi in there. My name is Carolyn. I live a few houses down. I think my cat may be under your car.”
Laney sighed in frustration. Carolyn sounded young and perky and newly married, and Laney did not want to deal with her. Sorry. Can’t help you if you don’t have sense enough to keep your cat inside, she wanted to say. Instead she settled for a dismissive “Your what?” hoping that Carolyn would go away. She didn’t want to be pulled into the woman’s cat drama.
“Uh—my cat. Please? She’s a kitten. Can you help me?”
With an explosive sigh, Laney opened the door a crack and peered through it. A young woman in rather tight blue pants and a striped sweater stood there, smiling warily and holding a cheap flashlight. “Oh, hi. I’m Carolyn.” She held out a hand but Laney wasn’t in the mood. She hung on to the door.
Undeterred, Carolyn continued. “Okay, then. Hi. We just moved in and my cat got out when I came home a little while ago. I’ve been looking for her and I think she’s under your car. Do you think you could help me?”
“Have you tried calling it?” Laney asked, not yet convinced that her help was needed to get the silly feline out from under her car.
“Well, yes, I have,” Carolyn said archly.
Whoa. Maybe that was unnecessarily rude. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I’m not sure what I can do—”
“Do you have a flashlight?” Carolyn asked, pointing hers at Laney and turning it on. A feeble glow was all that the bulb could manage. “Mine’s dying.”
“Just a minute,” Laney said and turned on her heel, as Carolyn stepped into the foyer. She had a very good flashlight somewhere. She looked in three kitchen drawers before she found it. When she got back to the door, Carolyn was tapping the head of her flashlight against her palm and then looking straight at it. “Now it’s completely dead,” she said woefully. She looked at Laney. “Oh, that’s a nice flashlight.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Laney responded as she gestured to Carolyn to lead the way to the lurking cat. Carolyn walked around the side of the house to Laney’s car and crossed to the far side. “I think she’s closer to this side. Can you bring the flashlight over here?”
Laney rolled her eyes. Yes, she was acting bitchy, but she’d had a difficult couple of days. Much more difficult than losing a cat. Lost your cat? Well, I was shot by the man who’d just murdered my boss. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that she should just get into the spirit of finding the cat, because the sooner the cat and Carolyn were back safe at home, the sooner Laney could get to her pasta and wine.
“Okay,” she said, a little more energetically as she walked around the car and crouched down. “What color is the kitty?”
“She’s white with a little black spot right here.” Carolyn pointed to the middle of her forehead. “So cute and only about three months old.” Carolyn knelt gingerly, as if she were afraid her pants would split.
Laney sank to hands and knees, doing her best not to scuff her
* * *
T HE NEXT THING Laney knew, someone was knocking on her door. Before she came fully awake, she dreamed it was Ethan, coming to check on her again. So when she opened her eyes and realized it was dark outside, she was surprised and, at first, a little disoriented.
It took her a few seconds to remember that it wasn’t morning. She’d lain down for a nap after getting home from the police station. But how long had she slept? The knock sounded again, startling her. Oh, right. Someone was at the door.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped on her shoes. She hadn’t undressed to nap, so she still had on the shirt and slacks she’d worn this morning. She went into the foyer and called out, “Who is it?”
A soft female voice said, “Hello? Hi in there. My name is Carolyn. I live a few houses down. I think my cat may be under your car.”
Laney sighed in frustration. Carolyn sounded young and perky and newly married, and Laney did not want to deal with her. Sorry. Can’t help you if you don’t have sense enough to keep your cat inside, she wanted to say. Instead she settled for a dismissive “Your what?” hoping that Carolyn would go away. She didn’t want to be pulled into the woman’s cat drama.
“Uh—my cat. Please? She’s a kitten. Can you help me?”
With an explosive sigh, Laney opened the door a crack and peered through it. A young woman in rather tight blue pants and a striped sweater stood there, smiling warily and holding a cheap flashlight. “Oh, hi. I’m Carolyn.” She held out a hand but Laney wasn’t in the mood. She hung on to the door.
Undeterred, Carolyn continued. “Okay, then. Hi. We just moved in and my cat got out when I came home a little while ago. I’ve been looking for her and I think she’s under your car. Do you think you could help me?”
“Have you tried calling it?” Laney asked, not yet convinced that her help was needed to get the silly feline out from under her car.
“Well, yes, I have,” Carolyn said archly.
Whoa. Maybe that was unnecessarily rude. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I’m not sure what I can do—”
“Do you have a flashlight?” Carolyn asked, pointing hers at Laney and turning it on. A feeble glow was all that the bulb could manage. “Mine’s dying.”
“Just a minute,” Laney said and turned on her heel, as Carolyn stepped into the foyer. She had a very good flashlight somewhere. She looked in three kitchen drawers before she found it. When she got back to the door, Carolyn was tapping the head of her flashlight against her palm and then looking straight at it. “Now it’s completely dead,” she said woefully. She looked at Laney. “Oh, that’s a nice flashlight.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Laney responded as she gestured to Carolyn to lead the way to the lurking cat. Carolyn walked around the side of the house to Laney’s car and crossed to the far side. “I think she’s closer to this side. Can you bring the flashlight over here?”
Laney rolled her eyes. Yes, she was acting bitchy, but she’d had a difficult couple of days. Much more difficult than losing a cat. Lost your cat? Well, I was shot by the man who’d just murdered my boss. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that she should just get into the spirit of finding the cat, because the sooner the cat and Carolyn were back safe at home, the sooner Laney could get to her pasta and wine.
“Okay,” she said, a little more energetically as she walked around the car and crouched down. “What color is the kitty?”
“She’s white with a little black spot right here.” Carolyn pointed to the middle of her forehead. “So cute and only about three months old.” Carolyn knelt gingerly, as if she were afraid her pants would split.
Laney sank to hands and knees, doing her best not to scuff her
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