The Truth About Cats & Dogs (18 page)

I
WASN
'
T UPSET
until Miranda dropped that bag of cat food and crawled under an old house. I'm not the squeamish type, but there are spiders here. And rats. Yeah, I know cats are supposed to catch rats, but you haven't seen the size of these babies. When they sit up, they're as big as poodles. They have really sharp teeth and a bad attitude. And red eyes that glare like they're possessed.

Uh-oh, Miranda's down on all fours. She's got that determined look on her face. And there she goes! I'd just as soon skip the haunted crawl space tour, but it's my catly duty to follow this young humanoid and keep her safe. But why this house? Why this crawl space?

Ah, I see—and hear—the attraction for Miranda now. It's a cage. And inside the cage is a charming black-and-white cat of juvenile years. He says his name is Bossy and he's been in the cage for two days. Without any water. The men who set these traps are worse than I thought. But let's hear what Bossy has to say. Maybe he can give us some clues.

Bossy is a free agent in this world, so no one has
missed him or been looking for him. And he's scared. He says that lots of cats have disappeared from the neighborhood recently. He says that about two weeks ago, these cages filled with food started showing up in out-of-the-way places. The cat goes in, the trap closes, and he's there until someone comes to get the cage. And once a cat is caught, he isn't ever heard from again. This sounds really bad. This is evil at work.

Miranda is working the catch on the cage. And yes, she sprang him! Bossy stayed around long enough to give her a rub and a purr, and now he's on his way. And Miranda is destroying the spring on the cage so that it won't work anymore. She is one smart little girl.

Now she's crawling out the other side of the house and moving on. The problem is that she's still going away from home. I've tried snagging her pant leg and pulling her back toward home, but she isn't going to listen to me. It's not that she doesn't understand; she's very perceptive for a humanoid. It's that she simply ignores me. She has a mission, and she's not going to back off.

I'm liking this situation less and less, though. I just saw two men sitting on a porch and watching her. She doesn't realize that there are mean people around—people who will hurt her as quickly as they will a stray cat. Those men are looking at her and laughing. I don't like that a bit. If I had my way, we'd go home and get Peter and Penny.

Sure, it's a good thing we're doing, freeing cats
in cages, but I think we need some reinforcements. Besides, it's time to eat. Miranda doesn't show any sign of fatigue or hunger, but by my schedule, I'm two hours overdue for some grub.

Okay, here's another cage. This one has a…Chihuahua! And she's one pissed-off little canine. I normally don't condescend to talk to dogs, but this one is chattering away, and oh, the language! I'm just glad Miranda can't understand what's being said.

Her name is Bitsy, and she's telling me that cats and dogs are disappearing. She was looking for her friend, Prissy, who disappeared yesterday. Prissy went out to relieve herself and she never came home. Bitsy is terribly upset that she can't find a trace of her friend.

This doesn't sound good at all. It sounds like someone is kidnapping dogs and cats, and the only reason for that would be to sell them to people who want to cut them up or torture them. I know firsthand how horrible the life of a lab animal is. I spent nearly a year as a lab cat. I never got outside my cage except when they caught me to inject some horrible drug into me. No one even bothered to give me a name. The pain was bad, but the loneliness was even worse. If that's what's going on here—and Bitsy believes so—then I'm going to put a stop to it.

There Bitsy goes, her little tail straight out behind her. At least she knows her way home, and I'll bet she never walks into a cage again.

Another good deed, and another cage destroyed.

What's that I hear? Some sort of commotion. Let me take a peek around the corner of this house. Hmm. It's two men in a green pickup, and they're highly agitated. They look lean, mean and upset. They've got the cat cage Miranda just destroyed. One man is shaking it and yelling. The other is looking around. Miranda and I need to kick up some heel dust.

The men have put the cage in the back of the pickup. Now they've crossed the street to talk to those two older men on the porch. And now they're looking at us.

Oh, no. I think it's time to go—and no fooling around. Those men are pissed off big-time and they're headed our way.

“Run, little humanoid!”

 

P
ENNY PAUSED
at the porch where two older men sat in plastic chairs that moaned under their weight. One had white hair and the other had an earring in his right ear. “Have you seen a young girl, about nine years old, brown hair in braids?”

The men looked at each other and then down the street. Neither of them answered.

“Her father is looking for her.” Penny pointed across the street toward where Mack was looking under a house.

When the men still didn't answer, Penny stepped closer. Something about their silence made her feel uncomfortable. “Have you seen a little girl?” she asked again, and this time with an edge to her voice.
One man looked away, but the other simply stared into her face.

“It's a simple question, yes or no,” she said, feeling her anger begin to mount.

“What if we did?” the one with white hair asked.

“Then you'd better tell me,” she said.

“Or what?” the other man asked, sneering.

“Mr. Sanders!” she called. “Could you come here a moment?” If the men wouldn't talk to her, maybe they'd talk to Mack. He was at least a hundred pounds bigger and, when it came to his daughter, very convincing.

Mack trotted across the street and came to stand beside her.

“These men may have seen Miranda,” said Penny. “Unfortunately they don't want to tell me anything.”

Mack put one foot on the step. “My little girl is missing,” he said softly. “If you've seen her, please tell me.”

“What's it worth to you?” the man with the earring asked.

Penny saw the flush of anger touch Mack's face. Instead of snatching the man out of his chair, though, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“It's worth this.” He handed it to the man.

“I saw a little girl. She and a black cat were under that house over there.” He pointed across the street. “They left.”

“How long ago?” Mack asked.

“Maybe half an hour.”

“Which way did she go?” Penny asked.

“She ran toward that old junkyard,” the man said, a cruel smile playing across his lips. “She was runnin' fast, too.”

Mack turned, ready to go. Penny put a hand on his arm and detained him. “Why was she running?” she asked.

“'Cause those two men who were after her were mad,” the man said, laughing out loud. “She was giving it all she had, but I don't think she got away from them.”

Penny's hold tightened on Mack's arm and held him in the yard. He was about to climb up on the porch and do some damage. “Why were the men after her?”

“I reckon because she was tearing up their traps.”

“What kind of traps?”

“Animal traps. They've been catching cats and little dogs for a couple of weeks. Catching 'em and hauling 'em off. There're enough stray cats and dogs around here, we won't miss a few.”

“Did the men hurt her?” Penny asked.

Both men shrugged. “She tore up their stuff. They were mighty upset about what she'd done. They said they were going to get her.”

Mack stared at the men. “I'm going to find my daughter, and after I do, I'm coming back here,” he said. “If you're sitting out here on the porch watching the events of the day unfold, I may feel the need to include you in a few of them.”

He turned abruptly and started jogging toward the old junkyard the men had pointed out.

Penny glanced again at the men and was glad to see the smirks had fled their faces. She hurried after Mack.

 

R
ESTRAINT HAD ALWAYS BEEN
a byword of his life, but Mack felt his ability to control his anger slipping. He focused on the rusted metal fence that enclosed the junkyard.

“Miranda!” he called.

Only silence answered him. He saw Peter about a hundred yards down the block, looking in an old freezer. Behind him, Penny was catching up.

“Mack, she's okay,” Penny said. “They saw her not half an hour ago. Surely she couldn't have gotten too far away in that time. Those men were probably mad, but they wouldn't hurt a child over a trap that can be replaced.”

“We don't have a clue what really happened,” he said bitterly. He knew she was trying to comfort him by putting on the best face possible. She was the kind of woman who wouldn't add to a father's torment. No, she was kind. But Miranda was still in danger. “Those two men just sat there and watched my daughter run while two men chased her. How could they do that?”

“I don't know.” Penny followed him through a rusted-out hole in the fence.

“I think it's time to call the police,” Mack said. Dusk was falling, and in front of Mack was an
ocean of wrecked and abandoned cars. “She could be anywhere in here.” Dread slipped over him. “They could have hurt her. She may be lying here…unconscious.”

Mack turned at the sound of a cat meowing, his gaze going over an old BMW that sat on rusted axles.

“Familiar!” Penny darted in front of him and scooped up the black cat out of an old tire. She held him a moment, then held her hand out in front of her, disbelief showing on her face. Her hand was covered in blood. “Familiar's bleeding!” she said. “Will you find Peter while I check him out?”

“Sure,” Mack said, heading back to the hole in the fence and taking out his cell phone. “And I'm going to call the police. Maybe Miranda is nearby, but we're not going to have enough daylight to hunt on our own. After what those two men said, I think we have enough evidence to prove she may be in danger.”

 

P
ENNY FOUND THE WOUND
on Familiar's side and quickly began to stanch the flow of blood. It looked like the cat had been shot. While her hands were busy with Familiar, her mind was going back over the conversation with the two men on the porch. Neither of the men had said anything about a gunshot. Then again, they hadn't been very forthcoming with any information.

She saw her uncle duck through the hole in the fence. “I think he's okay,” she called to her uncle. “He's been shot. Small-caliber.”

Peter hurried over and knelt beside her. As his hands moved over Familiar's sleek black hide, Penny filled him in on what she'd learned.

“Let me take Familiar to the clinic,” Peter said. “It looks superficial. I think the bullet grazed his side, but I want to make certain. You stay and help Mack look for Miranda. Mack called the police and they're on the way. This is looking serious—but I don't have to tell you that.”

Peter scooped the cat into his arms. As he stood, sirens sounded in the distance. “I'm really afraid something terrible has happened to his daughter.”

“I can't believe this is happening. Surely Miranda is okay. I keep thinking we should have detained her at the clinic.”

“How could we have known?” Peter said. “Look, do what you can. I'll be back as soon as I check Familiar out.”

“Do you need my help?” Penny asked.

Peter shook his head. “Familiar's going to be fine. You stay with Mack. I think he's going to need someone he can lean on.”

“Are you sure?” Penny asked.

“Positive.” He kissed her forehead. “I'll be back as soon as—” Before he could finish, Familiar jumped to the ground.

Meowing, he started weaving through the junked cars.

“Familiar!” Peter called. “Come back here.”

Penny saw the tip of his black tail disappear. “I
think he wants to stay here,” Penny said, amazement in her voice.

“He's the most stubborn animal I've ever known,” Peter said with disgust. “He's been in trouble from Ireland to Egypt and back. He has a nose for getting into the middle of things.”

Penny turned to her uncle. “He's after something. He keeps looking over his shoulder to see if we're following.” Penny started after the cat. “Come on, Uncle Peter.” Familiar had already disappeared from view into an old rusted chasis.

She began wading through the wrecked cars as the sound of the sirens grew louder. When she turned back, she saw that Peter had stopped to examine the ground. “What is it?”

“A footprint. It might be evidence.”

Penny let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like centuries. “Do you think someone took Miranda?”

Peter nodded. “I can't think of anything else. I'm frightened to imagine what they may have done to her. You go get Mack and see if the police will send some officers to help with the search.”

“The cat disappeared,” Penny said. She pointed to the area. “He just vanished.”

Peter nodded. “I'll look for him. You go help Mack. Familiar's out here somewhere, and our job is to have the backup he needs, when he needs it.”

S
HOCK PASSED OVER
Mack's face as he watched Penny walk up to the patrol car. It took Penny a few seconds to realize that blood colored her blouse and hands. The police officer, wearing a sergeant's chevrons and a tag with the name Stanley Greene, got out of the car with a questioning look at the blood.

“My uncle's cat was shot,” Penny said, and saw the color drain from Mack's face. She gave him a tight smile of reassurance, then continued, “He's going to be okay. At least, we hope so. He took off among the cars. We lost him.” Familiar was everything her uncle had said, and then some. Even though he was injured, he wouldn't give up the hunt.

“Did you find any sign of Miranda?” Mack's face showed naked fear.

Penny slowly shook her head. “Familiar is searching the area. If she's there, he'll find her. Uncle Peter says he's one heck of a detective.”

“A cat?” the policeman said incredulously. “You have a tracking cat?”

Penny nodded, casting a glance at the junkyard where her uncle still searched. “You could say that.”

“I hope you're right.” Mack's voice was hoarse with worry and stress.

Penny couldn't help herself. Mack looked so distraught. She put her arm around his waist and gave him a comforting squeeze. “Miranda's going to be okay,” she said. “We'll find her.”

“I told the officer everything,” he said. “He's going back to question those two men on the porch.”

“They might be more willing to talk to a law officer,” Penny agreed.

“If not willing, at least afraid not to tell the truth. And the officer radioed to bring in some tracking dogs,” Mack continued. He spoke as if he were in a daze. “They don't really know for certain that Miranda is in danger, but they're going to help. It's going to be dark in another few minutes. Miranda has never been away from home in the dark.” His voice grew rougher. “I know she's going to be terrified.”

Penny's hand automatically began to rub Mack's back. Touch carried an amazing ability to comfort. She knew that from her work with animals. Whenever a cat or dog was frightened and upset, she spent time petting and rubbing it, soothing it so that it would relax and begin to heal.

“Uncle Peter found a footprint,” Penny told the officer. “It could belong to anyone, but it could also belong to one of the two men who chased Miranda into the junkyard.”

“We'll take care of it.” Sergeant Greene got on the radio and put out a call for other units. “We'll get this
search started,” he said, looking up at the sky and shaking his head. “It's only going to get harder when it's dark.”

“Let's go call for Familiar,” Penny said, taking Mack's hand and pulling him away from the patrol car. She thought of Miranda, the girl's desire to help a stray cat. She felt a wave of anger and then grief. Surely nothing had happened to the child. But she couldn't escape the fact that Familiar had been shot. She could only assume that it had been the men who'd gone hunting for Miranda.

“She has to be okay,” Mack said, more to himself than to Penny.

She tightened her grip on his hand. “Just visualize her alive and safe.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mack stopped suddenly, an expression of amazement on his face. “You just moved into the neighborhood and all you know is that my little girl brought you kittens that were going to die. You don't know me or Miranda. Why do you care?”

“I care about cats and dogs and even a little girl I don't know.” Penny's smile was slow. “I care about all things, and I don't like to see animals or humans suffer.” Her smile widened. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Miranda is a very lovable little girl—when she isn't driving you crazy with worry.”

“She's a great kid,” Mack said, exhaling a long breath. “Better than I deserve. I just don't want her hurt again.”

Penny suspected he was talking about the past as much as the present. “Children are a lot tougher than you might think,” she said.

“You sound like you're talking from experience.”

Penny nodded. “My dad died when I was twelve. He was in an accident. And then my mother got breast cancer. She died when I was nineteen. It was a long, hard illness.”

“And you took care of her?”

“I tried.” Penny felt the unexpected surge of tears. She'd thought she'd grieved enough. “There wasn't anything to be done. The doctors tried everything.”

“At least your mother didn't abandon you,” Mack said, with such bitterness that Penny stopped and turned to face him. In the failing light, she could see the anger and hurt in his eyes.

“Death is a form of permanent abandonment.”

“Your mother didn't choose to die and leave you.”

Penny shook her head. “Toward the end, she did. And I was glad when it was over. It isn't about abandonment.”

His arm went around her shoulders and she felt a sense of comfort she hadn't expected. “Thank you,” she said, stepping back from him. “You're a very gentle man—though I didn't think so at first.”

“I can only imagine what you must have thought, with Miranda bringing in those kittens, probably acting like she didn't want me to know.”

Penny shook her head. “It wasn't the best first
impression. But I understand now. You were only trying to protect Miranda from an animal you thought was dangerous. I understand how it is not to want to lose someone.” For some reason she found it easy to talk to Mack, a man who was virtually a stranger. “I'm guilty of avoiding relationships because I don't want to chance risking another loss.” She laughed self-consciously. “I think that's why Uncle Peter is here, to urge me to date a little before I'm a dried-up old maid.”

Mack's large hands slid to her shoulders, and he started a slow, gentle massage of the tense muscles. “You don't have any worries in that regard. You're too pretty to stay alone for long.”

Penny began to relax as he kneaded her tired shoulders. “I don't know about that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I guess I'm so mad at Miranda's mom because it upsets me to think about how she must hurt. But that's my problem, not Miranda's. I shouldn't let how I feel affect how I deal with this. I should be focusing on her feelings, not my own.” His hand slipped around Penny's shoulder and he pulled her close to him. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

Penny closed her eyes. Mack smelled of laundry detergent and the heat of his own body. She felt as if she was trembling all over, but she knew it was emotional, not physical.

“She's going to be okay, Mack. We'll find her.” She stepped away and turned, giving him a long look.

 

M
ACK THOUGHT HIS HEART
would break. His fear for his daughter was overwhelming. And yet he found room in his thoughts for the remarkable young woman who stood staring into his eyes. She was a good person, a woman with tender feelings for a child she hadn't met for more than a few minutes. And she was beautiful. Her brown eyes held depths that urged him to gaze into them forever. There was something in her that made her want to help—even him.

“When we find her, I want you to help me with that cat. Gumbo.” He said the word as if it might hold the magic to bring his daughter home. “If we can really tame her, I want Miranda to have her.”

“We'll find the cat, and if we have to, we can trap her. Then we'll tame her a little, and when the kittens are weaned, we can spay her. Once she is loved and wanted, she'll probably come around.”

Penny continued to talk about the cat, and Mack was grateful. Her voice was the thread that held him together. It didn't matter what she said, and she seemed to sense that. She was one of the most giving and tender people he'd ever met. How would he handle this without her—a woman he'd just met a few hours before?

“Gumbo is a great name for a calico,” Penny said, leading him away from the crackle of the policeman's radio and the words that cut through his heart. He heard “stretcher” and “hostage situation” and
“kidnapping” and “medical examiner.” And it was the last that nearly broke him.

He let her lead him toward the junkyard where all of his hopes and fears waited.

“We should probably do something in a pattern,” Penny said as she tugged at his hand. “Why don't we begin here? Maybe we can find some clue before night falls completely. It'll take the police a little while to get organized. Of course, they'll have lights and all the right equipment, but we can get started.”

Penny Jameson was an angel. Mack found himself staring at her, wondering where she'd left her wings. She was getting him going, keeping him moving, starting off on her own search while he followed behind her like a big, dumb animal. No, not like an animal. Like some hunk of rock or a tree trunk. He shook himself, forcing himself out of his stupor.

A minute later he saw the footprint. He bent to examine it.

“That's where we found Familiar, in that tire,” Penny pointed out.

“It would probably be safe to assume that Miranda was somewhere near here, then,” Mack said. “It looks as though the cat was trying to guard her.”

He moved past a crunched BMW and found what looked like a rough path among the cars. In the fading light, he stooped and picked up an empty can of cat food. The label was still pristine.

“It's new,” Penny said when he held it out to her. “I think Miranda was here.”

How long had his daughter been coming to this junkyard? Mack felt as if he'd left his world behind and stepped into a nightmare. “Do you think she brought it today?”

Penny nodded. “Could be. Maybe she isn't hurt, Mack. Maybe she's feeding the stray cats.”

He prayed that was true. Once he found Miranda, he was going to buy food for
all
the cats in the neighborhood—and help her put it out, too. Once he found her, things were going to be different. He was going to come home at three o'clock, when she got out of school. He was going to be the best father in the world.

“Look!”

Penny's excited tone pulled him free of his thoughts. “What is it?”

“It's a sheet of paper.” Penny held him back from picking it up. Instead, she used a stick to unfold it.

Mack leaned closer. “That looks like the type of writing tablet Miranda had. She was always making notes and drawing pictures.” He got another stick and helped hold down one end of the note.

In the center of the sheet was a drawing of what looked like a dragon. Beside it were two words: “bad teeth.”

“Is that Miranda's handwriting?” Penny asked, her voice rising with concern.

“Yes, and it's the purple pen I gave her last week. There's no doubt she left this.” He knelt down, careful not to touch the note. “Bad teeth,” he said out loud. He looked up at Penny's worried face.

“I think she's trying to identify the men,” Penny said slowly. “One could have had a tattoo of a dragon and the other bad teeth.”

“At least it's a start,” Mack said.

“We have to assume Miranda is okay,” Penny said. “She was able to draw that image and write those words, and she left the paper for us to find. Mack, she's not only okay, I think she's smarter than her abductors.”

Mack acknowledged Penny's words, but he wasn't certain it was a good thing. He knew his daughter. “She's a very smart little girl. They wanted to put her up two grades, but I wouldn't let them. She's smart,” he said, “and she's very determined. Sometimes that's a dangerous combination.”

 

W
AIT UNTIL
I get my hands on those two creeps. They shot me and grabbed Miranda. Dang it, they snatched her up and took off with her. But I have a plan. I know the humanoids are going to use the typical police procedure to find Miranda. That won't be quick enough.

From the conversation I overheard between Dumb and Dumber, they've got almost a full shipment of stray cats and dogs, even though some of the animals they captured aren't strays. Like Buster. I'm certain they have him. Their plan is to load up the cages and take the animals tonight. They didn't say where, but I have no doubt that it's someplace no cat or dog wants to be.

Even worse, they have Miranda. I don't know
what they plan to do with her, but it can't be good. One of the men mentioned selling her, like she's a tub of green beans or basket of potatoes. Or an animal. It just made my skin crawl. The good news is that I'd recognize both of the men if I saw them again. One has had a real dental apocalypse. The three teeth I saw looked like candidates for removal. And the other has this unique dragon tattooed on his right forearm. Really, he might as well wear a name tag. And that's what bothers me. If he were worried about being identified, he'd have tried to cover up the tattoo. So that must mean that he doesn't plan for Miranda to be able to give a description to anyone. And that means nothing good for Miranda.

My side stings a little where the bullet nicked me, but I've been hurt worse. I'll be okay, at least until I find the humanoid. After that, I think I'll swoon and let the good Dr. Jameson tend my wound. First things first, though—I'm off to the rescue. I only hope Peter can see well enough in this poor light to understand what I'm doing.