thought. It could have been a squirrel scampering into the shrubs.
Under normal circumstances, I would have already bolted out of the house, took off running, and never looked back. But my quest to find Amber clouded my judgment. I should never have come to Catherine’s house by myself, and I had made a mistake in telling Eleanor to keep my whereabouts a secret. Mark had warned me not to do something foolish, and I had definitely acted out of line when I decided to go running off to Catherine’s house alone. With that thought in mind, I spun around, sprinted down the stairs, through the kitchen, the living room, and out the back door.
Chapter 19
I was about to make a rush toward my car just when I heard Cuddy Boy meowing again. The soft, pathetic whimper was coming from the direction of the garage.
Bewildered, I lingered for a brief moment in the backyard, debating whether or not I should leave the cat in the garage and get out fast. But when the pitiful cry caught my attention again, I decided to rescue the cat.
“Poor Cuddy Boy,” I uttered under my breath. “Now that Catherine’s in the hospital, I’ll take you home with me.” I moved to the garage and tried to pry open the front door. It did not budge.
The keypad on the side of the garage caught my attention. Catherine had told me the code years ago, and it was an easy one to remember. The code was simply 4321. I punched those numbers into the keypad. Nothing happened. Holding my breath, I punched in the code again. Still, nothing. Perhaps Catherine had changed the code. It had been quite a while since I visited the old woman. The last time I had punched in the garage door code was two Christmases ago when Catherine asked me to help her pull the artificial Christmas tree out of the garage so that she could decorate it later.
Cuddy Boy was meowing profusely now. He sensed my presence on the other side of the door. I could not leave him alone in the garage. There had to be a way to help get the cat out. It may be a while before Catherine returned from the hospital, and Cuddy Boy would die of starvation if I abandoned him. How did he get in there in the first place? He could have stumbled inside, and the wind could have shut the side door behind him, I assured myself.
That’s it. That was the answer. I remembered that the garage had a side door which Catherine almost never locked. I went to the side of the garage and was thrilled when I was able to push the door open with great ease.
“Cuddy Boy, come here,” I whispered.
The garage was dark, with the exception of a single ray of light that streamed in from the slightly opened door.
I scanned the garage. It was cluttered with junk. There were boxes stuffed with yard tools, an old typewriter desk, an artificial Christmas tree, some folding chairs, a white poker table, a broom, a rake, a snow shovel, some gardening tools, two large garbage cans, and many old pieces of yard furniture.
Just when I took another step, Cuddy Boy dashed out from behind a garbage can and tried to jump over a few large boxes, but his foot got tangled up in some Christmas light decorations. He struggled fiercely to get loose, baring his teeth and making pathetic, high pitched gurgling sounds. I had never seen him so anxious.
“I’ll help you out,” I said in a soft voice as I reached for Cuddy Boy’s paw and squeezed to pull it loose.
But the brown and gray tiger striped cat, who had usually greeted me with a warm purr, growled and threw me a threatening glare. When I sank to my knees beside the cat and grabbed him, that was when I saw it. Cuddy Boy’s entire body was covered with little specs of blood. On the floor were a half dozen bb gun pellets smeared with blood. Cuddy Boy managed to free his paw from the last of the tangled cords, and he scurried through the side door and out of sight, whimpering and limping as he ran.
Chapter 20
M y stomach muscles tightened and a sense of bewilderment and confusion gripped me as I
Under normal circumstances, I would have already bolted out of the house, took off running, and never looked back. But my quest to find Amber clouded my judgment. I should never have come to Catherine’s house by myself, and I had made a mistake in telling Eleanor to keep my whereabouts a secret. Mark had warned me not to do something foolish, and I had definitely acted out of line when I decided to go running off to Catherine’s house alone. With that thought in mind, I spun around, sprinted down the stairs, through the kitchen, the living room, and out the back door.
Chapter 19
I was about to make a rush toward my car just when I heard Cuddy Boy meowing again. The soft, pathetic whimper was coming from the direction of the garage.
Bewildered, I lingered for a brief moment in the backyard, debating whether or not I should leave the cat in the garage and get out fast. But when the pitiful cry caught my attention again, I decided to rescue the cat.
“Poor Cuddy Boy,” I uttered under my breath. “Now that Catherine’s in the hospital, I’ll take you home with me.” I moved to the garage and tried to pry open the front door. It did not budge.
The keypad on the side of the garage caught my attention. Catherine had told me the code years ago, and it was an easy one to remember. The code was simply 4321. I punched those numbers into the keypad. Nothing happened. Holding my breath, I punched in the code again. Still, nothing. Perhaps Catherine had changed the code. It had been quite a while since I visited the old woman. The last time I had punched in the garage door code was two Christmases ago when Catherine asked me to help her pull the artificial Christmas tree out of the garage so that she could decorate it later.
Cuddy Boy was meowing profusely now. He sensed my presence on the other side of the door. I could not leave him alone in the garage. There had to be a way to help get the cat out. It may be a while before Catherine returned from the hospital, and Cuddy Boy would die of starvation if I abandoned him. How did he get in there in the first place? He could have stumbled inside, and the wind could have shut the side door behind him, I assured myself.
That’s it. That was the answer. I remembered that the garage had a side door which Catherine almost never locked. I went to the side of the garage and was thrilled when I was able to push the door open with great ease.
“Cuddy Boy, come here,” I whispered.
The garage was dark, with the exception of a single ray of light that streamed in from the slightly opened door.
I scanned the garage. It was cluttered with junk. There were boxes stuffed with yard tools, an old typewriter desk, an artificial Christmas tree, some folding chairs, a white poker table, a broom, a rake, a snow shovel, some gardening tools, two large garbage cans, and many old pieces of yard furniture.
Just when I took another step, Cuddy Boy dashed out from behind a garbage can and tried to jump over a few large boxes, but his foot got tangled up in some Christmas light decorations. He struggled fiercely to get loose, baring his teeth and making pathetic, high pitched gurgling sounds. I had never seen him so anxious.
“I’ll help you out,” I said in a soft voice as I reached for Cuddy Boy’s paw and squeezed to pull it loose.
But the brown and gray tiger striped cat, who had usually greeted me with a warm purr, growled and threw me a threatening glare. When I sank to my knees beside the cat and grabbed him, that was when I saw it. Cuddy Boy’s entire body was covered with little specs of blood. On the floor were a half dozen bb gun pellets smeared with blood. Cuddy Boy managed to free his paw from the last of the tangled cords, and he scurried through the side door and out of sight, whimpering and limping as he ran.
Chapter 20
M y stomach muscles tightened and a sense of bewilderment and confusion gripped me as I
Similar Books
