who had been reclining on the countertop, hopped down and streaked past. I smiled, knowing Zach wasn’t going to chase him down.
“What kind of cat is that? I’ve never seen a house cat with that many spots,” Zach said suspiciously.
Hmm. Neither had I. “Oh, I can’t remember exactly what the lady said.” I didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Zach I’d gotten Mercutio from Bryn Lyons. Zach wouldn’t be keen on my getting presents from another man.
“What lady? Where did you get him?”
“Never you mind about my cat.” I climbed into the squad car, and Merc hopped onto my lap and curled into a sleek ball, closing his eyes.
Zach got in, still eyeing Merc suspiciously. He started the car. “How old is he?”
“Um, seven months, I think. I’m sorry about the scratch. We didn’t get much sleep, and I don’t think he’s a morning cat.”
We rode down the block to Dr. Barnaby’s, and Zach led me to the backyard. The hammock I’d slept in was shredded and had been ripped from one tree, a hunk of bark missing from where it had been anchored.
“What in the world?” I mumbled and looked at Zach, who was watching me closely like he thought I might have had a lot of spare time and an ax and a straight razor for company the night before. “It wasn’t me.”
Merc slinked over to the tatters and hissed. He pawed the canvas and backed away.
“It wasn’t Mercutio either. As you can tell, he doesn’t approve.”
We walked to the back door of the house, which was splintered and gaping. A wave of dread rose up inside me. It tasted a lot like bile.
“My gosh! Is Doc Barnaby okay?”
Zach nodded. “He wasn’t home when it happened. He was visiting his wife’s grave. Lucky for him or today he’d be getting buried with her.”
I followed Zach inside. The house was wrecked. Furniture and papers had been tossed about, glass and china smashed.
I walked to the overturned dining room table. It probably weighed more than a hundred pounds. I glanced at it and then at Zach. “And you wanted to know if I did this? You think I maybe drank a few steroid mochas and went crazy?”
“Dr. Barnaby thought you might have been involved. And I asked him why you would be if he hadn’t done anything to you.”
“Exactly.”
“He didn’t have a good answer. I thought we could all sit down and sort things out.”
I passed Zach, exploring the house until I found Dr. Barnaby in the guest room, sitting on the torn mattress of a daybed. The stuffing from a shredded cotton comforter covered the room like snow. The remnants of Mrs. Barnaby’s doll collection were scattered over the floor, and Dr. Barnaby looked as shell-shocked as the sheriff had. What would happen to Duvall if its men all went to pieces?
I noticed Dr. Barnaby’s face was streaked with dried tears, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel sorry for him. When he saw me, he shook his head.
“I deserved it. I know I did, but did you have to mess with her things?”
“I didn’t do this. How could I do this?” I asked, stepping over broken dolly parts to get to him. It was like a kiddie crime scene and somehow more sinister because of it. I sat down next to the doc and put an arm around his shoulders.
He broke down and cried. “I just wanted her back. That’s all I wanted. I only took two drops of blood and four strands of your hair. You wouldn’t even miss them.”
“You’re sure right. I don’t miss them,” I said and pulled off the Band-Aid and showed him my fingertip. “You can’t even see where you pricked me. No harm done.”
“I’m sure sorry about the tea. I hated to do it, but I didn’t think you’d let me try to bring her back.”
“She wouldn’t come back the way you want.”
“No, she didn’t.”
I gasped. “You did a spell already? And something happened?”
He nodded.
“Could she—Maybe she came home and was confused,” I said, looking around at the destruction. I’d heard ghouls were strong, and it
“What kind of cat is that? I’ve never seen a house cat with that many spots,” Zach said suspiciously.
Hmm. Neither had I. “Oh, I can’t remember exactly what the lady said.” I didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Zach I’d gotten Mercutio from Bryn Lyons. Zach wouldn’t be keen on my getting presents from another man.
“What lady? Where did you get him?”
“Never you mind about my cat.” I climbed into the squad car, and Merc hopped onto my lap and curled into a sleek ball, closing his eyes.
Zach got in, still eyeing Merc suspiciously. He started the car. “How old is he?”
“Um, seven months, I think. I’m sorry about the scratch. We didn’t get much sleep, and I don’t think he’s a morning cat.”
We rode down the block to Dr. Barnaby’s, and Zach led me to the backyard. The hammock I’d slept in was shredded and had been ripped from one tree, a hunk of bark missing from where it had been anchored.
“What in the world?” I mumbled and looked at Zach, who was watching me closely like he thought I might have had a lot of spare time and an ax and a straight razor for company the night before. “It wasn’t me.”
Merc slinked over to the tatters and hissed. He pawed the canvas and backed away.
“It wasn’t Mercutio either. As you can tell, he doesn’t approve.”
We walked to the back door of the house, which was splintered and gaping. A wave of dread rose up inside me. It tasted a lot like bile.
“My gosh! Is Doc Barnaby okay?”
Zach nodded. “He wasn’t home when it happened. He was visiting his wife’s grave. Lucky for him or today he’d be getting buried with her.”
I followed Zach inside. The house was wrecked. Furniture and papers had been tossed about, glass and china smashed.
I walked to the overturned dining room table. It probably weighed more than a hundred pounds. I glanced at it and then at Zach. “And you wanted to know if I did this? You think I maybe drank a few steroid mochas and went crazy?”
“Dr. Barnaby thought you might have been involved. And I asked him why you would be if he hadn’t done anything to you.”
“Exactly.”
“He didn’t have a good answer. I thought we could all sit down and sort things out.”
I passed Zach, exploring the house until I found Dr. Barnaby in the guest room, sitting on the torn mattress of a daybed. The stuffing from a shredded cotton comforter covered the room like snow. The remnants of Mrs. Barnaby’s doll collection were scattered over the floor, and Dr. Barnaby looked as shell-shocked as the sheriff had. What would happen to Duvall if its men all went to pieces?
I noticed Dr. Barnaby’s face was streaked with dried tears, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel sorry for him. When he saw me, he shook his head.
“I deserved it. I know I did, but did you have to mess with her things?”
“I didn’t do this. How could I do this?” I asked, stepping over broken dolly parts to get to him. It was like a kiddie crime scene and somehow more sinister because of it. I sat down next to the doc and put an arm around his shoulders.
He broke down and cried. “I just wanted her back. That’s all I wanted. I only took two drops of blood and four strands of your hair. You wouldn’t even miss them.”
“You’re sure right. I don’t miss them,” I said and pulled off the Band-Aid and showed him my fingertip. “You can’t even see where you pricked me. No harm done.”
“I’m sure sorry about the tea. I hated to do it, but I didn’t think you’d let me try to bring her back.”
“She wouldn’t come back the way you want.”
“No, she didn’t.”
I gasped. “You did a spell already? And something happened?”
He nodded.
“Could she—Maybe she came home and was confused,” I said, looking around at the destruction. I’d heard ghouls were strong, and it
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