“Just stay calm,” he says. “I’m sure the power will be back any minute.”
As soon as he speaks, there’s another crash as a massive gust of wind forces open the front door, clattering it against the wall. I guess in all the commotion, we forgot to lock it.
I stand, prepared to close it, when lightning strikes one of the trees lining the street.
“Leave it,” Spenser says, grabbing my hand. “We’ll close it when the storm dies down.”
Another twenty minutes passes before the weather starts to settle. We’re able to wrest the door shut against the wind, and while I use some old towels to dry the entryway, Spenser checks on the customers. The power finally comes back on and people sigh in relief.
It’s still raining and blowing, but the lightning has moved off, taking the thunder with it and rendering the street relatively safe. Spenser starts to reopen the register and get everyone checked out, and that’s when I notice that Flicker’s chair is empty.
I point to it. “Hey, does anyone know where Flick is? She’s not where I last saw her.”
The small crowd immediately begins searching, which warms my heart. It would be easy to dismiss something as small as a potentially missing cat, especially when everyone is eager to get home, but these people care about Flicker and Spenser.
I quickly check the other chairs, as well as the shelves in the area we were gathered, but there’s no sign of her.
“She has to be here somewhere,” Spenser says. He calls out for the cat, but she doesn’t appear. With seven of us searching, it doesn’t take long to look over the whole store. We check nooks and crannies, high shelves and low ones, and all her favorite spots. The door to Spenser’s office and apartment is firmly closed, and no matter how special Flicker is, there’s no way she could have opened it.
“Um,” a customer named Radha says hesitantly. “What about when the door blew open? Could she have gotten out?”
Spenser immediately shakes his head. “She wouldn’t have gone into that weather.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “If the noise scared her, is there a chance she might have run without thinking? It was dark, so it’s not like we would’ve noticed.”
His face pales, turning an ashy shade of gray. “You think she might have run out in that?”
“I have no idea, but it’s worth looking.”
He nods, worry distorting his handsome features. “Can you take over the register while I search?”
Like he even has to ask. I check out the handful of customers as quickly as possible, and each one promises to keep an eye out for Flicker. When I’m done, I close down the register and think. If I were a scared cat during a storm, where would I go?
I glance out the window; Spenser is prowling up and down the street, but from the look of things, he hasn’t found her. Even from here, I can see the concern radiating off him: the tension in his tall frame, the way his antennae are standing straight up, the methodical way he’s searching.
He really loves his cat.
I do another perimeter search around the store, and that’s when I see it. Over in the corner between history and fairy tales, the basement door is open the tiniest crack. It doesn’t look like a bug could get through, much less a cat. Then again, cats are basically liquid.
I should go down there and check for her.
I take a deep breath, open the door, and flip on the light switch.
Nothing happens.
I flip it on and off a few times, just to be sure, but there’s no doubt. Whatever happened with the power during the storm did something down here. I don’t know where the breaker box is, so armed with an anemic flashlight, I gingerly creep down the stairs.
“Flicker?” I call. “Here, kitty, here, Flick Flick.”
No response.
I venture deeper into the blackness, hating every second of it. Dark, open spaces? Perfectly fine. Creepy, enclosed ones? All the nope. Ironic that I’m falling for a guy who’s nocturnal.
“Flicker!” I yell louder. “Are you down here?”
I hear a small rustling sound and shine my flashlight along the storage wall. There, partially hidden behind a box, I spot a fuzzy black ear. I walk over and move the boxes out of the way, revealing the cat, who’s all huddled up, wide eyed and worried.
I scoop her up, prepared for her to struggle, but instead she starts purring.
