Hurricane House (21 page)

Thinking about what Lilah said, I touched the crystal. It felt as frigid as Sean’s ice sock, but rather than dwell on the possible reason, I climbed the stairs with the sock and the lantern.

Onyx dutifully trailed behind.

In the master bathroom, I sat on the toilet before I remembered I couldn’t flush it. At that hour, with fatigue consuming me, the port-a-pot was out of the question.

Choosing not to pollute the unworkable toilet, I ran downstairs to get the bucket from under the kitchen sink. Phew, what a relief.

Thinking Onyx might need to go, too, I stuck the bucket under his hindquarters. He looked embarrassed and refused to cooperate.

“Be that way,” I said to him. “But just remember, I’m not taking you outside again tonight.”

He whined, as if to protest. Then I remembered I’d left the bottle water, along with my backpack and duffle downstairs. Onyx dutifully followed me to the living room and watched while I put the backpack on, slung the duffle over my shoulder and grabbed the water jug. Again, he walked with me upstairs to the master bath and stood guard in the bathroom while I splashed water on my face and brushed my teeth.

I felt dead on my feet with barely the energy to unfasten the waist pouch and stuff the gun under my pillow. I wanted to fall in bed without taking off my clothes, but somehow managed to peel off my sweats and put on my “Roll Tide” tee.

Onyx plopped down on the floor next to the bed. I patted his head. Then I climbed under the covers.

I stuffed Sean’s icy sock beneath my neck. I tried not to think about the man who’d given it to me, but my mind kept replaying the evening until I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter
Thirty-nine

“R-r-r-ruff.” I snapped awake when I heard Onyx’s jarring bark. I blinked. Where am I? When I came to my senses, I held up the lantern to see Onyx baring his teeth inside the walk-in closet. “R-r-r-ruff.” He was scratching at the stairs leading to the attic.

“What’s wrong, Onyx?”
He answered with another, “R-r-r-ruff.” “What did I do to deserve this?” I asked him. I heard the ceiling creak. “R-r-r-ruff. R-r-r-ruff. R-r-r-ruff...”

Houses often make creaking noise. It’s normal,
especially in a house that has survived a hurricane, but after what happened to Tara and Roxanne, I couldn’t ignore Onyx’s warning.

I don’t mind admitting, I hated the thought of climbing
up there. Day or night it’s a spooky place, but if I didn’t find out what was upsetting Onyx, I knew I’d never be able to go back to sleep.

“Okay, you win,” I said, grabbing Sean’s lantern and the Magnum.

Before I walked up in the attic, I counted the steps leading to the hatch, a two-by-two-foot door. Only ten, but the climb was steep and as tired as I was, my legs ached by the time I reached the top.

I opened the bar-lock, pushed back the hatch, stepped into the sixteen-by-sixteen room and waited for Onyx to leap the stairs into the attic. The space up there reminded me of a ship’s hull. It even had a porthole window. I disliked the double doors on each side of the attic, connecting the adjacent town homes. In fact, I disliked them so much I refused to stay in hotel rooms with this feature. Yet, my parents considered these doors—when left open—a necessary part of the sheltered pathway to the community pool and fitness center.

Had I checked on those doors the last time I climbed up in the attic looking for storm damage? I couldn’t remember as Onyx and I walked to the set of double doors connecting unit five to Sean’s unit. I heard Fleetwood Mac, “Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow...”

I pulled down on the S-shaped handle of the first door. It was unlocked. A chill ran through me, knowing Sean could easily walk into my attic if he so wanted.

I glanced at the second door and slowly pushed down on the handle. The door opened and I spotted Sean’s bare butt. Oh, my God.

I quickly shut that door and turned the button in the handle of the door facing me. An unacceptable Rinky-dink
lock and I made a mental note to install a deadbolt ASAP.

On the opposite side of the room, the double doors connect unit five to unit seven, the other townhouse Kari Ann and I own. (The odd numbered townhouses are on this side of Blue Heron Way. The even numbered units are across the street). Unit seven had been unoccupied for a while, but even when the townhouses weren’t rented, Kari Ann and I trusted handyman Jim to take care of the units. However, my trust in Jim weakened when I tried the door handle. It broke off in my hand.

Wondering why Jim had failed to repair this or even mention it, I walked through these doors and across the attic of unit seven to the doors on the other side. Those handles and locks had been removed. Was Jim planning to replace these?

Let’s get out of here, Onyx,” I whispered and tugged him across the attic.

Onyx was surprisingly quiet. A good omen, I hoped. Yet, my heart raced as I closed and bar-locked the hatch door.

Though I still didn’t feel safe, fatigue forced me to fall asleep. A monster chased me in my dreams, but thankfully, I woke up before he caught me. Again, I forgot where I was until I saw Onyx asleep on the floor and felt the crystal turning hot, warning me. I swore I saw someone in the room, but told myself it was the lantern light, flickering ghostly shadows.

My cell phone registered 3:27 a.m., an ungodly hour to be saucer-eyed with an adrenaline rush. I wanted to get up, get busy and find out what happened to Sandra, Geneva, Tara and Roxanne.

I simply couldn’t lie in bed any longer, worrying about
everything, including the IRS auditor Charles Puker. I convinced myself Puker wouldn’t believe my tax receipts blew away in the storm, nor that my senile accountant accidentally burned down his home office with my tax records inside.

As I got up, I thought I heard Adams say, “Take deep breaths. Try the attitude of gratitude. Don’t worry about Puker. It’s more important, that you stop the murderer and find Geneva. The first forty-eight hours are crucial.”

True, I knew, but I felt antsy, unable to focus. I fiddled with Martha’s crystal, sparkling gold and orange in the lantern light, then opened Geneva’s laptop and scanned her files and e-mails.

After an hour of sitting in a chair with the computer in my lap, my injured neck started throbbing. I wanted to go for a jog. Release my body’s natural pain relievers, but I couldn’t afford the time. I had my CAT assignments and the criminal investigation I’d taken upon myself to do.

Chapter Forty

The hostess at the Doughnut Hole said, “Thirty-minute wait.” “Let’s go,” I told Victor Curry.

He nodded in agreement, but as we turned to leave an auburn-haired woman, standing in the waiting line, convinced us to stay. “Only restaurant open for a hundred miles.”

The aroma of fried bacon, baked pastries and brewing coffee made me weak with hunger. I would have given anything for the stack of pancakes on a nearby table.

“Might as well wait and have breakfast,” Victor said, glancing at his watch. “Or brunch.”

“I’m starving, aren’t you?” I asked him.

“Not bad. I drank a protein shake at the club.” Victor was referring to the Dolphin Racquet and Fitness Club.
When I returned his call that morning, he was on his way to work out. His fitness club is further inland and the hurricane hadn’t destroyed it or the water and sewer lines.

“Why don’t you meet me?” he’d asked.

“Okay.”

Onyx barked his disapproval when I locked him inside the townhouse to leave. Then, it took me twenty minutes to drive to the club, similar to Gold’s Gym, but with tennis. I’d visited Gold’s a couple of times last year when Kari Ann and I got together for Christmas. K. A. liked their body-pump class.

At Victor’s club, I ran on a treadmill machine beside him for three miles; then headed for the ladies area where I lost track of time. Three hours later, we were at the Doughnut Hole waiting in line to be seated.

“I almost got one of those protein shakes, but I thought we’d be eating by now. Nice club, by the way. Thanks for inviting me, but I’m sorry I took so long in the Ladies Room. I couldn’t help myself. The sauna and hot tub were heaven.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Victor looked handsome and certainly more relaxed than I felt. He wore loafers, no socks, tan Bermudas, and a white polo. Black chest hairs curled over his open shirt collar. His spiked dark hair had sprinkles of grey.

“Are your claims going okay?” I asked, trying to lead into the favor I wanted to ask. In two hours, I knew I needed to meet with Mr. Rogers at Dolphin Elementary.

“The usual track meet.”

“At least with that CAT software of yours it doesn’t take me as long. Thank you, by the way, for giving me a copy. It’s amazing. You should patent and sell it.”
Victor massaged his eyes. “I’m in the process.”

“I love that growling lion.” I was referring to the one that comes up on the screen when you start the program.

Victor smiled. His teeth looked very white, as if he bleached them.

“Why’d you call it Lion CAT, Vic?”

Victor winked. “I’m a Leo.” As Victor said this, two teenagers, a boy and a girl, bumped into me and pushed ahead of the woman with the auburn hair.

I grabbed the boy’s sleeve. “Hold on, there, Sonny. She’s been waiting longer than you and so have we.”

The boy snarled. “Nah huh.”

I turned around to the line of people behind me. “Isn’t that right? Haven’t we all been waiting longer? And don’t you just hate it when rude people try to break in line?”

“Yes,” a few folks in the line shouted.

The mouthy teen put his arm around his girlfriend. “Let’s get out of this dump.”

The auburn-haired woman whispered to me. “Teenagers today have no respect for anything or anyone. I’m truly glad I decided not to have any kids.”

I remembered how Adam and I talked about having children one day, raising them to respect themselves and others. Thankfully, these memories were interrupted when the hostess directed Victor and me to a booth.

“Your waitress will be with you shortly,” she said.

Our waitress, wearing the nametag “Leronica,” soon appeared. Her hair was Ronald MacDonald red. She wore four pierced earrings in each ear and a silver ball in her tongue.

“I’ll have regular coffee with honey and cream, orange juice, two fried eggs, over easy, with grits and bacon and a stack of buttermilk pancakes,” I told Leronica. Victor ordered, “Coffee, I like the caffeine, too, orange juice and oatmeal.”

When the coffee and orange juice came, I said, “So, you’re a Leo, huh? Funny, I didn’t realize.

“Goes to show you don’t know me very well.” Victor smiled, as if teasing me. “But, hey, I’m glad we’re finally getting acquainted as friends. Maybe we can talk about something other than work this time.”

True, Victor was mostly a business associate. Though we’d chitchatted from time to time, I didn’t know him personally.

After what he’d said about “finally getting acquainted,” I knew I’d have to wait before asking him for another favor. I didn’t want him to suspect my ulterior motive.

I poured honey into my coffee then added Half and Half. “I’ve always wondered. How’d you get into CAT work, Vic?”

Victor sipped his coffee black. “A guy who rented one of my condos in Aspen was a CAT.”

“You have condos in Aspen?”

“Two.” Victor guzzled his orange juice before continuing. “Carl, my renter, lived in the condo next door to me. He seemed to enjoy what he did. Nice guy, nice enough to show me the ropes.”

The coffee made me jittery. I needed food. “And you used to be a computer programmer, right? That’s how you knew to create the Lion CAT software, I think you said.”

Victor sipped his coffee and nodded. “I worked for a ski resort in Aspen where I developed a program to ticket skiers faster. Eventually decided to copyright it and market to other resorts, but that meant I had to leave my employer...” Victor hesitated when the waitress topped off his coffee. I put a hand over my cup, indicating I didn’t want any more. “I’ve never snow-skied in my life, but my sister, after she became a western woman and moved to Idaho, skis long distances and brags about it.”

Victor laughed. “Where in Idaho does your sister live?” “Idaho Falls.”

“I grew up in a Mormon community near there. In Salt Lake.”

I leaned in, showing my surprise. “You’re a Mormon?” “Not any more. Not by a long shot.”

“Isn’t it unusual for a Mormon to decide not to be a Mormon?”

“My situation was bizarre.”

“What do you mean by bizarre?”

“If you must know, my mother was one of five wives, all married to the same man. He was very powerful, very entrenched politically in the community. He was my father, or rather he procreated with my mother to create me, but soon after I turned sixteen, I got out of there, or more accurately, he chased me out.”

“What do you mean chased you out?”

“He made life miserable, criticized everything I did. I used to love to draw, for example. He said drawing was for sissies, that sort of thing.”