"Ouch, ouch, ouch," I said, pulling him off my chest. His claws were like needles.

"Okay, go on. Live long and prosper," I said, dropping him on the gra.s.s.

I got up and turned toward home. I didn't look back, afraid if he seemed disappointed, I'd suddenly be a cat owner. I hurried down the sidewalk. I wondered if he was following me. I checked left and right, using my peripheral vision. No felines.

I turned my head side to side. Nope. Finally, I looked over my shoulder. Definitely gone. I sighed but told myself I shouldn't be sad about it. I couldn't accept a present from Bryn Lyons. Still, I wouldn't have minded a little company for the walk home, and it's not like the kitty cat had somewhere else to be.

I took a long bath, ate a few Special Dark miniatures, and settled into bed. I must have fallen asleep quickly, but suddenly I was startled awake. The clock read five forty-five in the morning.

Someone with a small flashlight was in the bedroom. I stayed stone-still, afraid the person would know I was awake. He was dressed in black with a black mask, like all the psycho killers wear. His back was to me as he rifled through the jewelry box. Great, take my stuff. I don't need it.

Maybe he was just a burglar. Maybe he'd just leave me alone.

There was a rattling outside and then a wailing sound somewhere in the distance. I felt it as well as heard it. The burglar must have heard it too because he turned out the light. I couldn't see him, which was scarier.

Oh, G.o.d. Go away. Please go away.

I didn't want him to come near the bed or to figure out that I was awake. My breath came in short pants that I tried to keep quiet. Sweat trickled down my neck. I didn't have a weapon. Oh, why did I divorce Zach? So he forgot our anniversary and went out drinking with the boys. So he never took me seriously and sent me to a psychiatrist over Edie. No relationship is perfect, and he had such a big gun.

Chapter 5.

The burglar's soft footfalls moved toward the door. Yes, you slimy b.a.s.t.a.r.d, get the heck out of my house.

As soon as he left the bedroom, I was out of bed. I got on the floor and crawled on my hands and knees to the door. I wanted to get a glimpse of him, but it was too dark. My heart thumped in my chest, my fingers stiff with fear. If I went out of the bedroom and he was lurking, he might get me. I felt for the handle and slammed the door shut. I locked it, stumbled to my feet, and ran to the phone. Footsteps pounded down the stairs.

I yanked the phone off the hook, but there was no dial tone. No!

My cell phone was downstairs on the counter. I ran to the window and looked down. The burglar tore out the front door but tripped over a small shadow that darted toward him. The man fought with the shadow, then got up and ran, limping on one leg. He disappeared around the corner, and I looked back to see the shadow moving slowly, like it might be hurt.

I ran down and found the cat from the park sitting on the top porch step with his back to the open front door.

"Hey," I said.

He made some sort of kitty sound of acknowledgment. He looked around for another moment and hissed at the darkness. Then he stood, turned around, and padded into the house. I closed and dead-bolted the door.

There was a small trail of blood on the wood floor. "You're hurt! Oh, no."

He looked at me with big eyes and then licked at his right shoulder. I lay down on the floor on my belly near him. I didn't want to scare him.

"Let me see," I whispered. I touched his shoulder gently. My fingertip slipped into a small hole. "Ouch," I said since he couldn't. "That nasty jerk stabbed you. I'll take you to the vet. But wait, I don't have my car." I tilted my head. "I'll call Zach. He can drive us, and I'll make a police report."

I turned on every downstairs light and the stereo. I found the phone that was off the hook and set it back on its cradle, then lifted it again.

The phone rang five times before I slammed it back down. d.a.m.n him. Never around when I want him.

"I called my ex-husband. He's out doing heaven knows what, so we'll go without him. I'll wake up Jolene next door, and she can drive us," I said, putting on my shoes.

I walked to the door, but he didn't move. "Come on." I waved a hand toward him, but he ignored me and instead hopped up onto a chair and then onto the countertop. He padded over to the sink, made an unpleasant sound and then hopped into the sink basin.

"You want a bath? Cats don't like water."

I looked at the blood on the floor. Cleaning the wound was a sound idea. Good thinking for a kitty.

I went to the sink and turned on the water. He wailed loudly enough to wake the dead in two counties. It was the same sound that I'd heard earlier, the one that had interrupted the burglar at work.

I washed him with some orange Palmolive antibacterial dishwashing liquid. He didn't like it, but he didn't hop out of the sink until I was finished rinsing him. He shook vigorously, spraying me and the counter with water. Then he sat down and licked himself. His paws were huge. I'd thought he was full grown, but from the look of things, he wasn't nearly done.

A gold disc hung from a gold chain collar around his neck. I lifted the disc. Mercutio was engraved on the front. And his birthday on the back. Mercutio was seven months old.

I petted his damp fur. "You're very impressive. At seven months all I could do was hold my head up."

He meowed.

Boy, he was cute. And courageous. And cute.

Maybe I'd keep him for a little while or forever.

"Let's go see what he took. Then I'll call the sheriff." Mercutio watched me walk toward the stairs, then bounded up them ahead of me, favoring his left side a little. The burglar had limped worse, I thought with a satisfied smile. My kitty cat kicks a.s.s.

The doors of the jewelry chest were open, but the drawers were closed. I opened them one by one. My earrings and my cla.s.s ring from high school were still in the top drawer. The string of pearls from my grandmother was untouched in the second drawer, but Aunt Melanie's magic gemstones and crystals from the third drawer were gone, and the bottom drawer was empty. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had taken my spells. Now how the h.e.l.l was I going to tell the sheriff about this?

I spoke to the sheriff, who was strangely quiet, like too much crime had happened in too short a time and he'd had to leave a zombie in his place while he took a Mexican vacation. When he wasn't looking I checked out the pulse in his neck. Yep, beating. Not a zombie then, just playing one in Duvall.

I didn't tell him about the spells. I just said some gems and crystals and some important paperwork was taken. He grunted that he understood and said he'd look into it when he got a chance.

"You know, if you were still married to Zach, this never would've happened."

"Why not, Sheriff? They broke into your house. Doesn't seem like having a lawman around helps all that much," I said, giving him a wide-eyed and innocent look.

He scowled. "I wasn't home when they showed up. You can bet things would've been different if I had been. Now, you lock all your doors behind me."

It was clear that he wasn't going to be a lot of help anytime soon, and his deputies were all out doing their thing, so I was still on my own.

What a way to start a Monday morning. I made a snack and discussed the case with Mercutio. He ate every bit of his ham and eggs and was more attentive than Zach had been for most of our thirteen-month marriage.

Some country whoop-a.s.s music came on, and Mercutio skidded around me in circles while I danced in the middle of the hardwood floor where I'd rolled the rug back. Dancing cheers me up, and Mercutio seemed to like it, too. For Zach to dance like that would have taken a court order or drinkin' half a bottle of Glenfiddle at a wedding. Mercutio, I decided, was nearly the perfect male, and I wondered what kind of spell it would take to turn him into a man. As I ran out of steam, I collapsed on the couch, giggling as Mercutio played a game of attacking the gla.s.s coffee table.

That night I slept with the lights on until Zach woke me up at eleven thirty in the morning by pounding on the door like he planned to knock it down. My hair hung in my eyes, which I'm sure is part of the reason why I didn't spot Merc on top of the tall bureau that stands next to the door.

When Zach came in, Mercutio sprung Hollywood-stuntmanstyle and landed on Zach's head and shoulder, making a vicious one-pawed swipe across the back of Zach's neck.

Zach howled and flung Merc across the entryway, but Mercutio landed light-pawed and unfazed. He swiveled to face Zach. I blinked, openmouthed with surprise. Mercutio's the size of a tabby cat, but he doesn't seem to know that. And he's a baby and impressionable, so I didn't think it was a good idea to encourage him, especially since Zach can be pretty ornery.

"Not nice," I said to Mercutio, but was drowned out by Zach.

"What the f.u.c.k?"

Zach ran a hand over his neck and came away with a smear of red. "Whose is that? I'm gonna skin him alive."

I walked over and took a look at Zach's neck. The wound wasn't deep, but I bet it stung. "No, you're not. He's mine," I said. "It's just a scratch. I'll get the peroxide."

Zach growled at Mercutio, who hissed back.

"Hey, cut that out," I said to them. "Settle down, Zach. He only jumped on you 'cause he doesn't know you." I think. "And you come banging on the door like you're going to kick it in. You woke him up."

"He's going back to wherever you got him."

That clinched it. Now I was a permanent cat owner. I put my fists on my hips. "He stays."

"You don't even like cats."

"He's not a cat."

"Oh, no?" Zach asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"He's a superhero in a cat suit. He protects me. He's in disguise."

"Well, I hope he's faster than a speeding bullet 'cause he jumps on me again, and I'm gonna introduce him to one."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on to the sink so I can clean that."

"He better have all his shots."

I nodded, wondering what shots cats need.

"He does, right?"

"Uh-huh." Probably. As far as I knew, Bryn Lyons wouldn't give me a cat full of diseases, but then he was on that list of nine. Hmm. I'd be really p.i.s.sed if people started dying of distemper.

Zach took off his shirt and stood bare-chested with his police belt hanging around his narrow hips and looking like the opening scene of a p.o.r.nographic video, or what I imagined would be the opening scene of one since I've never actually had the nerve to rent one.

Zach leaned over the sink, and I washed the back of his neck gently while he grumbled.

"All right," I said. "Done."

"Now, where the h.e.l.l were you last night?" Zach demanded.

"Why?"

"Just answer the question."

"I guess you didn't talk to your boss then?"

" 'Bout what?" he asked, rubbing the water off his shoulders with a dish towel.

"For your information, I was home, getting my house broken into while you were probably out drinking with your brothers."

"Tammy Jo-"

"I don't want to hear it," I snapped. "Mercutio was here and probably saved me from getting raped and murdered in my bed. Now, I want to know what you're doing to catch the guy who stole my locket and broke in here last night."

"What makes you think it was the same guy?"

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to know that it's the same crook. I don't think all this breaking and entering is unrelated. Do you?"

He grinned. "No, I don't suppose I do, but we've still got to look at the facts. What was taken?"

"Just some crystals from the jewelry cabinet. He might have thought they were gemstones. He got scared off before he got a chance to do anything else."

Zach nodded, serious again. "And you didn't go out last night before or after it happened? You didn't go by Doc Barnaby's?"

"No, I didn't. You couldn't drag me there. Why? Did someone else he poisoned throw a rock through his window?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, what then?"

"Come take a ride with me. We can pick up your car when we're done. The b.u.mper's fixed."

I slipped on my flip-flops with the orange silk roses and glanced at Mercutio. My house didn't feel totally safe, and I didn't want to leave him behind to face things alone. "C'mon, Mercutio."

"h.e.l.l no," Zach said, b.u.t.toning his shirt back up.

"He'll sit with me," I said, opening the front door. Mercutio, 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 anch.o.r.ed.

"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?"