Perfectly Matched (21 page)

She stood up, and I noticed she was a bit wobbly. She tried to cover it with a stretch, but when she did that, I noticed how thin she was. “Have you been eating okay?”

“Like a horse,” she said, walking to the fridge as if to prove a point. She opened the door and scanned the shelves.

I knew that wasn’t true. She admitted yesterday at the hospital that she hadn’t eaten all day. What was going on with her?

“I can make you some eggs,” I said, hearing a bit of Dovie in my voice. She was a caretaker, a nurturer, and apparently she’d passed that trait along to me.

“That’s okay. I’m not really hungry. I had a bagel on the way over here.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She came back into the living room and said, “Don’t you mmm-hmm me, Lucy Valentine.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You’re impossible.” She went to sit down, but something caught her eye.

Crossing the room, she took the pink bear out of the bassinet. Before I’d told her about the arsonist, I filled her in about the visions I had with the bear.

“Have you heard from Orlinda?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’ve called many times, and I know Graham and Dr. Paul have tried to reach her, too. She’s not getting back to us.”

Preston
frowned. “Isn’t that unusual?”

I opened my mouth then snapped it closed again. It
was
strange, as she had always been prompt in getting back to us. “I figured it was because she was at a convention, but now I’m a bit worried.”

Gently, she placed the bear back into the bassinet. “Let me work on it. I’ll track her down. I have some questions I want to run by her for the article, too. The sooner I get that thing done, the better.”

She suddenly leaned forward, peering out the window behind me. “Em and Marisol are on their way down.” She squinted. “It looks like Marisol is holding a cat.”

Marisol had called an hour ago and told me that Ebbie was just fine and that she’d bring her home.

Home meaning here.

And I’d realized I missed the little fur ball. “Is it black? About this big?” I said, holding my hands apart a foot.

“Yes.”

“That’s Ebbie.”

“Who’s Ebbie?”
Preston
asked.

“My new cat.”

“A new cat?” She threw her hands into the air. “What else, Lucy Valentine? What else are you keeping from me?”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Stop, stop, stop,” Preston said, swatting at Em’s hands as she tried to feel
Preston
’s forehead. “I don’t have a fever.”

“You were asleep when I got home last night, and were gone this morning before I could look you over.”

“I know,”
Preston
said. “I didn’t want to be looked over.”

Ebbie hopped up in the chair alongside me and Grendel. She licked his face. He let her.

“A perfect match,” Marisol said, sitting in the chair next to mine. Thoreau had awakened from his nap with all the commotion and was now sniffing everyone’s feet. “Do you think her owner will let you keep her?”

“I thought you said she was your new cat?”
Preston
asked, still shooing Em away.

“Technically, she’s Jeremy Cross’s cat. I’m just caretaking at this point.”

“Who’s Jeremy Cross?”
Preston
asked on a long drawn-out, woe-is-me sigh. “And why are you caretaking.”

I told them all about Jeremy and his animal communication skills. And how Ebbie said that I was the one who’d find him his true love.

“Not another psychic,”
Preston
said, standing up. “I can’t take anymore of you. I’m going. I’ll let you know about Orlinda.”

“Oh, before you go,” Em said. “Girls night tomorrow at Dovie’s. You in?”

“Are you bringing your stethoscope?”
Preston
asked oh-so-sweetly.

“No,” Em said.

“Then I’m in.” With a wave, she sailed out the door.

Em looked at me. “She’s lost a lot of weight and her color is off.”

“I know, but I can’t seem to get her to agree to see a doctor.”

Marisol said, “Get Cutter involved. She’ll listen to him.”

Ebbie pressed herself against me, plastered to my ribs. With all the body heat, I was going to have to turn the air conditioning down a few more degrees. “I’ll call him. He’s supposed to be back on Saturday, but maybe he can cut his trip short.”

I glanced at Marisol. “Ebbie’s tests were good?”

“Perfect. I don’t think she actually ate much of the matchstick, if any. She probably just chewed on it. Keep an eye on her, though. Hopefully, she won’t eat anything else that’s not good for her.”

Em said, “Can cats have Pica?”

“Pica?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s a disorder that usually affects women and small kids. They eat non-nutritious items like chalk, clay, paper, that kind of thing.”

I frowned. I couldn’t even imagine.

“And yes,” Marisol went on, “cats can have it too. It usually means a nutrient is missing from their diet, but I tested her vitamin levels and all seem to be okay.”

I nodded, taking in all the information.

“And there is one more thing,” Marisol said.

“What’s that?”

“I may be able to find her rightful owner. You said she was a stray, remember? When Orlinda found her?”

“Right, but how...”

“When I brought her to the office this morning, I scanned her for a microchip. The information popped up that she’d been chipped at a clinic I volunteered at, but didn’t have any other info than the clinic’s address and phone number. I’m going to stop by there on my way home today and see if I can find her file. It probably has her adopter’s information in it.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Ebbie leaving. I’d grown attached to her in just two short days. I also didn’t know how Jeremy would feel about it, and if he would rather I didn’t find out.

Em tucked her feet under her on the couch and yawned loudly. “This heat...,” she said, lifting her hair off the back of her neck. “Makes me sleepy.”

“Or was it your late night with Aiden?” I asked, trying to keep my mind off Sean and Sam. Had they come up with any more plausible suspects?

“What late night?” Em said. “I was home by nine, which is why I was surprised
Preston
was already asleep.”

Marisol and I glanced at each other. There was a note of disenchantment in Em’s voice. Marisol picked a piece of lint off her shorts. “Everything okay with you and Aiden?”

“No, everything is not okay.” Em’s cheeks flamed the same color as her hair. Brighter, even. Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “He’s distracted, quiet, flustered. He must have spilled his drink three times at dinner last night, and I don’t think he heard a word I said. He asked for the check before I could order dessert and practically raced me back to Dovie’s. I don’t know what’s going on, but something is. I think it’s time for a recon mission. What do you say?”

Marisol glowed. “You know I love a little recon. I’m game.”

The last time there was a recon mission, Marisol and I had broken into Em’s apartment. I had enough worries on my plate right now to add to it. “You two can tell me about it.”

Em frowned at my foot. “It would be a little hard for you to get around.”

“And blend in,” Marisol added.

“And I don’t think the cats would let you go,” Em said, eyeing the pile o’ cat on my lap.

She might be right about that.

I couldn’t imagine what was going on with Aiden. He was about as straight-laced as men came, and he absolutely adored Em. His behavior was out of the ordinary, and I was curious to see what the recon mission would uncover.

And if it would also explain why he’d yet to call me back.

***

Later that night, I stood in the doorway of my bedroom and watched Sean sleep. Ebbie and Thoreau were cuddled next to him, while Grendel sat in front of his food bowl with a hopeful expression.

It wasn’t very late, only a bit before ten, but Sean had barely been able to keep his eyes open. It had been an exhausting day for him, more mentally than physically.

He slept peacefully now, and I hoped he’d stay that way. Most nights he tossed and turned.

Even Odysseus seemed to take notice and worked furiously at burrowing instead of running his usual late night marathon on his wheel.

I drew the door closed and crutched my way to the couch. My mind was spinning—too much to fall asleep.

Sean and Sam had little luck with their brainstorming session. The ghosts they chased refused to be identified.

Sam was back in hiding, working on trying to find out if he had siblings. So far, he’d had no luck whatsoever.

Sean had been quiet when he returned home and stayed that way until he went to sleep.

I sank onto the couch, and Grendel soon abandoned his food bowl and came and joined me. How do you solve a case with no leads? No suspects. Not knowing when the arsonist was going to strike next...

I glanced up as a flash of light streaked across my windows. The sound of tires on the crushed shells came next. Someone was here.

Carefully, I hopped over to the window and slid the drapes to the side a bit so I could peek out. The front of my cottage was well-lit, and it was easy to see who emerged from a small red hatchback.

Annie Hendrix.

I looked back at the bedroom, at the door slightly ajar. I didn’t want to wake Sean. Especially not with a visit from Annie, who wasn’t one of his favorite people.

Hopping back to the couch, I bent down and picked up my crutches. I hurried back to the front door and pulled it open before she could knock.

For a second, she simply stared at me. Her hair was frizzy and unkempt and rings of dark smudged makeup made the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes look bruised and wild.

“You have to help me,” she cried.

I nodded for her to back up a step, and I slipped out the door. Her tiny tank top barely held her breasts in check, and she wore a skirt so short I could practically see her uterus.

It was quite the impression she gave.

“Come on,” I said.

She followed me around the wraparound porch to two cushioned chairs that overlooked the ocean. The water was calm tonight, slapping quietly against the rocks at the bottom of the bluff. Moonlight spilled across the water like milk across black granite.

I motioned for her to sit. “I tried calling you today, but you didn’t answer.”

“My cell?” She pulled out a phone that had been tucked into her ample cleavage.

Ew
. “Your work. I don’t have your cell number.”

“But—”

I cut her off. “Long story, Annie. What do you want from me?”

The night was peaceful with barely any wind, and it reminded me of the calm before the storm. I shuddered and focused on the sound of the crickets chirping, the waves lapping.

Annie opened her purse and pulled out wads and wads of paper. All of them said “Lucy Valentine.”

Tears shone in Annie’s eyes. “The energy will not leave me alone. I was up all night, obsessed with writing your name over and over. I didn’t sleep. I haven’t eaten. I have to do a reading on you.”

I noticed the lights on in one of Dovie’s guest rooms and hoped that meant she’d badgered
Preston
into staying another night with her. Em’s room was dark, and I wondered if she and Marisol were off doing their reconnaissance mission.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Do you need more paper?”

She shook her head and pulled out a fresh pad from her purse. Taking a few deep breaths, she murmured something under her breath I couldn’t understand. I took it to mean that she was opening her channels.

After a second, her pen, firmly in hand, began to move across the paper. Even though I’d seen her work before, it always fascinated me. She wrote three words, then the pen fell from her fingers.

She stared at the notepad, then said loudly, “That’s it? Three words? You’re freaking kidding me!”

It took me a second to realize that she was talking to the energy.

Annie shoved the wads of paper bearing my name back into her purse, cursing the whole time.

“What’s it say?” I asked, nodding to her pad. I was fairly good at reading upside down, but the writing was terrible and I couldn’t decipher it.

Annie slid it over. “Makes no sense to me.”

I glanced at the words.

NOT SAM BLACKIE

“Does it make sense to you?” she asked.

“Not really.” Of course I understood the Sam part, but what was blackie? And what did the phrase mean as a whole?

“Well, it’s yours. I cannot even freakin’ believe the hell I’ve been going through over three words. That’s some energy looking out for you.” She stood up.