The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (21 page)

I knew the shortcut that would get me to my destination faster, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the route over the hills. My fear didn’t make logical sense. The killer couldn’t know I’d be driving there tonight. He might not feel it necessary to follow me even if he knew exactly where I was headed. All I knew was I had to get to Aunt Rowe, make sure she was okay, and take her home.

Maybe I should call Sheriff Crawford and have him come over, too, to back me up. But he’d ask me what was happening, and I had nothing concrete to tell him. Even though he didn’t approve of Aunt Rowe performing in the rodeo, he wasn’t likely to ride out with sirens blaring for no good reason.

I didn’t need a big reason to show up. I could imagine a dozen problems, beginning with Aunt Rowe running into Hayden Birch, the sheriff’s prime suspect. I told myself that the two of them had gotten along fine, even had fun with the goat tying practice. Birch had no reason to hurt my aunt.

Did he?

A chill raced over my body. The combination of sweat-drenched clothes and air-conditioning was a bad one. I flipped the AC switch to low and aimed the vents away from me. The black clouds were multiplying and moving in fast.

Moving to the scenic Hill Country was supposed to relax me compared to my stress-filled city life. Aunt Rowe kept me on my toes, though. Worrying about her, I saw no stress relief in sight. Why did she insist on doing things like this? Was it peer pressure? At her age?

Was she going to be ticked at me for showing up and causing a scene?

Probably.

Okay, then, instead of dragging her to my car, I’d stay and watch the goat tying practice. Make sure nothing happened to her or Pearl. Get them out of there the second they’d had their fill of wrestling goats. This whole situation might be funny if I wasn’t so worried.

I reached the rodeo in twenty minutes that felt more like hours and parked in the lot. As soon as I climbed out of the car I spotted Hayden Birch in the corral with the fierce-looking bull. Rambo pawed at the dirt and lowered his head, horns aimed toward Hayden, and I wondered if the man had a screw loose to put himself in mortal danger every time he worked with the animal.

No sign of Aunt Rowe or Pearl out here, so I hurried through the gates and past the concession stands. I stepped into the arena and stopped behind the last row of seats. There they were—Aunt Rowe and Pearl—behind the fence with five goats prancing around them. A red hat with a purple plume lay in the dirt. Aunt Rowe’s, since Pearl was still wearing hers.

Laughter rang out. “That’s the way, ladies,” a man said. “Get your goat.”

I scanned the seats and didn’t see anyone except for a gray tabby cat walking the top of the arena fence like a tightrope.

“This is priceless,” said a voice behind me.

I spun to see Lance Devlin approaching. He looked pretty happy-go-lucky for a man whose wife was recently murdered. His attitude and the fact that my irritation gauge was already hitting the top made me want to wipe the grin off his face.

“Why are you willing to let these ladies fool with dangerous animals?” I said. “They’re senior citizens for crying out loud.”

“This is an attraction,” he said. “People will love it.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re in the minority,” he said. “Ladies want to be here, that’s
their
business. You don’t see them complaining, do you?”

I glanced at the arena. Aunt Rowe stood with knees bent, her arms spread wide. She eyed a brown goat that looked smaller than the others. The scene did strike me as comical, but in these circumstances I wasn’t laughing. I worried about what her blood pressure would read. Pearl was chasing a white goat, the goat winning by a wide margin. I turned back to Devlin.

“I thought you blamed Pearl for killing your wife. Are you planning to arrange for her to have an accident out there as some sort of retribution?”

His grin disappeared. “I don’t think she had anything to do with what happened to Crystal.”

“What
do
you think happened?”

“I don’t know. The sheriff is handling that.”

“Right.” I paused, measuring the wisdom of continuing the conversation. Maybe I’d sweated out some of my smarts, ’cause I couldn’t keep quiet. “I’m wondering why Rita Colletti’s still here in Lavender. Obviously, you don’t need a divorce anymore.”

“How do you know about my personal business?”

“I keep my eyes and ears open. People talk.”

“I didn’t kill Crystal if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said.

I shrugged. “I’m thinking it’s kind of handy for you that she died. Saved you a ton of money.”

He shook his head. “The decision to divorce or not wasn’t all about money. You didn’t know my wife.”

“She wasn’t faithful. I get that. Do you suspect anyone in particular?”

He didn’t respond.

“You must have some thoughts about it,” I pressed. “How could you not?”

“I don’t answer to you,” he said. “You shouldn’t even be here. We’re not open to the public tonight.”

“I came to pick up my aunt.”

“Sounds more like you came to give me the third degree,” he said. “You’re the one’s been poking around town asking questions. Don’t you know sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong can be dangerous business?”

I should heed that warning bell and get while the getting was good. Instead, I asked, “Is that why Rita was targeted? She asked too many questions?”

He threw his arms up in a frustrated gesture that made me back away.

“How would I know? If you’re worried about that, you ought to butt out. Mind your own business.”

“Fine. I’ll be gone just as soon as my aunt—” I turned back to the arena. Aunt Rowe and Pearl were gone. Only the goats remained.

“Where are—” I spun back to Devlin and saw him heading for the exit.

“Where’s my aunt?” I said.

“Probably had her fill for one night.”

“Where did she go?” He shrugged and kept walking.

What’s happening?

“Aunt Rowe,” I yelled at the top of my voice. “Where are you? Aunt Rowe.”

I ran down the steps to the perimeter fence and looked both ways. Nothing except for five pairs of beady goat eyes watching me. Something farther down the fence caught their attention and they looked that way.

What do they see?

I climbed over the fence and jumped into the arena, then ran in the direction the goats were looking.

“Aunt Rowe? Pearl?”

This was crazy. The women couldn’t disappear into thin air. Maybe they decided to go home before the storm began.

What if someone grabbed them?

I ran along the fence and heard the shuffling of goat hooves behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the little buggers were running after me. Did they think I’d come to feed them or what?

I came to a gate that opened into a hallway, and spotted a Restrooms sign.

That’s it, they had to stop here before going home.

Made all the sense in the world. I managed to get myself through the gate without the goats following and closed it behind me. Their little noses pressed up to the fence. The biggest one bleated at me.

“Sorry, guys. If I wasn’t so eager to find Aunt Rowe, I’d stay and chat.”

Thunder sounded in the distance.

I took two steps toward the ladies’ room door and thunder rumbled again. The arena lights flicked off, leaving me in near darkness with only the glow of a red Exit sign beyond the restroom doors to guide me.

My heart thudded. The storm didn’t seem near enough to have killed the electricity. Best-case scenario, the rodeo people were closing up for the night and didn’t know anyone was inside. Worst case? I’d just accused a man of murder, and here I was. A sitting duck, not willing to leave without knowing Aunt Rowe and Pearl were all right. I moved slowly, feeling my way along the wall to the restroom door, and pushed it open.

“Aunt Rowe?”

Silence.

“Anyone here?”

I blew out a frustrated breath. They were probably well on their way to the car, though I didn’t know how they could have gotten so far ahead of me. If I hadn’t been so intent on spouting off to Lance Devlin, I wouldn’t have lost track of them in the first place.

It’s your own fault.

I went to the door under the Exit sign and pushed the bar to open it.

The door wouldn’t budge.

I rattled the bar in frustration, then stopped when I heard a noise. Someone might be on the other side. Maybe that cat.

“Hello?” I called. “Is somebody out there? Let me out.” I knocked on the door and waited. Repeated.

Nothing.

I thought about the goats. Someone would come to put them up for the night. I couldn’t imagine the poor little things sleeping in the dirt arena. I hoped whoever was in charge of the animals showed up soon.

I turned and felt my way back to the gate that I’d taken to come this far. Another faint noise made me stop.

“Hello? Is anyone out there?” Hayden?” I waited, then whispered, “Aunt Rowe?”

My heart rate, already rapid, escalated. Aunt Rowe shouldn’t be in danger, but what if I brought danger to her by being here? By frustrating a killer who was already put out with me the night before. The person who may have intended to run me off the road and got Rita instead?

Oh, jeez.

I hurried back to the arena.

“Hey, goats, where are—” I listened carefully, but the noise I heard this time didn’t come from the arena in front of me. It came from behind.

And then something collided with my head, and my knees buckled.

My world went dark.

*   *   *

I dreamt of a storm so powerful that lightning bolts struck my head and thunder sounded like the pounding of a thousand horses’ hooves. I should move, go inside, get myself to a safe place. Better yet, wake up and get out of this darn nightmare.

Wait. This is no dream.

My memory began to return, and my eyes fluttered open. There wasn’t much to see. Near darkness. I was on the floor. Hot. Something was stuffed in my mouth. Hands bound behind my back. Legs tied together. Thunder boomed. The storm was real.

Something pummeled the wall next to me. Boards rattled. I tried to scream. Couldn’t. More thrashing nearby. Animal noises. Snorting.

A bull. Wild. Frightened.

No more frightened than I was at this moment. I prayed whatever separated me from the bull would hold strong. I struggled against the rope that someone, the killer, had used to tie me. I had to get loose. Had to find Aunt Rowe. Who had done this? Hayden Birch? Lance Devlin? My fingers found an end of the rope, and I pulled. No, that tightened the knot. I needed to get out of this, make a call for help. Where was my phone? I searched my memory and remembered dumping my tote into my car trunk.

Never mind that. Get loose.

My head throbbed where the killer had hit me, but I forced myself to keep moving, keep working the rope. My fingers, wet with sweat, ached as I tried to undo a knot. I wished that I truly had the special powers Twila thought I had—I’d be out of here so fast. Before whoever did this came back and—

What? I had no idea what he had planned for me. I hoped Aunt Rowe and Pearl were already headed home.

I shifted my weight and pedaled my feet as I tried to loosen the rope around my ankles. They weren’t tied as tight as my
hands. Who had done this? Maybe someone I didn’t even see tonight, a person lurking around the premises. Had Cody, the actor wannabe, given me the performance of a lifetime? A sob story about how he would never kill his mother. What if the boy planned to collect his trust money, stay in Lavender for a little while to make it look good, then disappear?

I gave up trying to free my feet and went back to my hands. If only I could get this thing out of my mouth and scream for help.

I kept working, thinking about motive. What did the killer want? Did Crystal—or Rita—put up some sort of roadblock between him and his goal? What changed after Crystal’s death? Pearl would buy the property she wanted. Lance didn’t need a divorce. Birch’s job was safe. Cody would get the money.

A flash of lightning illuminated the barn interior and the huge dark figure of Rambo in the stall next to me. The bull walloped the wooden slats, kicking out repeatedly with his back feet. The killer wanted me stomped to death. My heart was beating so hard I thought I might die of a heart attack before that happened. Make things easy for whoever did this.

Thunder crashed, louder than before. Maybe I could get to a standing position. Open the gate and hop out. The bull quieted, and I forced my breathing to slow down.

C’mon Sabrina. You can do it.

I tried to roll. Failed. Took another breath to try again.

And heard a meow.

Not just any meow. It was Hitchcock.

Even as I recognized his voice, I couldn’t believe he was here. How could he possibly be here? Then he was at my head and rubbing against me as if telling me that everything was okay. Things would work out. I wanted to talk to him, hug him, in the worst way. The best I could do came out as unintelligible whining.

Hitchcock stood face-to-face with me, and our eyes met. He rubbed his face against my chin, and the gag in my mouth
shifted slightly. That gave me an idea. Hitchcock stood aside as I rocked my body, gained momentum, then managed to roll on my side. I dragged the side of my face along the floor until the fabric caught on the rough concrete. I pushed at the gag with my tongue for a full minute, two. Finally, the obstruction popped out, and I stretched my aching mouth.

“Hitchcock, am I ever glad to see you.” I panted from the exertion. “Aunt Rowe. We have to get her.”

“Mrreow.”

I was surprised the cat hadn’t been scared off by Rambo. Or the thunder. The rope around my wrists had caught his attention, and he started chewing on it. He was a resourceful cat, but he’d have to chew for a month to get through this rope.

The storm was moving away, but I heard another noise. Not the bull. Footfalls. A person.

The killer?

“Hitchcock,” I whispered, but the cat was gone. Hiding, I hoped.

The gate opened. Shock rolled through me when Mimi Trevino walked into the stall. Were she and Cody in cahoots to get the money?