The middle-aged woman I’d attacked was very understanding about her bruised shin. She also waited in the resources center with me for an hour until my father finally showed up looking for me. But I’ve never forgotten the feeling of being abandoned and the fear that something even worse was going to happen to me unless I could put a stop to it.
Now Cookie is out on the streets, but there probably won’t be any kind bystander to save her. Hell, if someone tried to help her, she’d probably flash them her teeth and run faster.
She really is like me.
Tears press behind my eyes.
Oh God, Ihatecrying. Crying women are never taken seriously. They’re patted on the back and given…well, cookies. They’re told they’re emotional and written off.
I’m panting heavily by the time I get back to the porch, and I hurtle inside the house and grab my phone. My hands are still shaking as I draw up Cormac’s number.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NORA
He’s not going to answer, the little voice in my head jabs.Who keeps their phone on at night?
I lean against the door jamb, still breathing hard, and tap the floor furiously with my foot.
“Nora?” Cormac asks, his voice fuzzy with sleep, and my whole body feels electrified by relief combined with terror.
“I’m so sorry, Cormac,” I babble, tears pressing at my eyes. “I thought the gate was locked, but the mailman’s an asshole, and he left it open, and she slipped out. Cookie’s gone, and I don’t know where to look.”
Hot tears track down my cheeks, and I’m so mad at myself that I don’t even wipe them away. He’s going to flip out, and I won’t blame him. I’d definitely flip out if our situations were reversed.
“It’s okay, Nora,” he says slowly, which shocks me, because it is obviously not okay.
“It’s not,” I practically shout. “I need to find her. Can you tell me what to do?”
Not words I say often or lightly, but I feel helpless.
“Itisokay. This has happened to me too. Look, I have a tracker on her collar. She was wearing her collar, right?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, Nora, just a second. I’m drawing up the map on my phone.”
“What the fuck is going on?” I hear in the background. “It’s…sweet Jesus, Corm, it’s three in the morning. Go the fuck to sleep.”
“It’s Nora,” Cormac says, muffling the speaker.
There’s more grumbling, then he adds, “I’ll be back later. I’m not asking her about basil, for God’s sake. My dog is lost.”
Basil?What the hell?
But before I can even try to process the statement into something sensible, he’s back, the phone no longer muffled. “Sorry. I’m sharing a room with Mick. Look. I’m going to tell you where to go. But bring some treats so she’ll come to you. She can be a bit skittish.”
A bit skittish?
A wild laugh gusts out of me as I grab my hoodie hanging by the door. There are probably dozens of treats already tucked into the pocket. Her leash goes into the other. “Oh, I know how Cookie rolls. Where should I go?”
Adrenaline is practically singing in my veins now.We’re going to find her. She’s going to be okay. There IS a solution.
Of course, Cormac found it. Cormac is capable. He thinks ahead.
“Go to the right of the gate,” he says, and I realize I was running in the wrong direction earlier. Thank God I ignored my wounded pride and called him.
I start jogging along the road.
