She nods. “Can you?”
I decide not to comment on how it’s probably best to leave it as nature intended. Instead, I strip my suit jacket off and stride toward the raccoon. Crouching low, I place the jacket over the screaming animal, making sure to cover its head so I can safely free its leg from the trap.
Luckily, as soon as its eyes are covered, the raccoon ceases its struggle, and I’m able to remove the wire. Now that I’m up close, it’s clear the leg is not broken, but several deep lacerations will require medical care if it is going to survive—and based on the way Grace is looking at the pathetic creature, I know I’m going to have to make sure of that.
I straighten with a sigh, holding the raccoon to my chest. Surprisingly, it doesn’t fight against me. Now that it’s not trapped, it seems fairly content—and it even snuggles into me.
“So cute.” Grace reaches out to scratch the top of its head. “He’s friendly.”
“I think he’s just traumatized.”
Grace tsks, rubbing her forefinger lightly through its fur. To my surprise, the raccoon does a slow blink, then closes its eyes entirely and dozes off.
Grace looks up with a haughty grin. “I told you it was friendly.”
I shake my head in amazement. It’s not a very bright creature, but itdoesseem to be fairly sociable. “I guess so…”
All of a sudden, her expression crumples. “What are we going to do with it?”
“Call animal control, I guess.”
“Won’t they kill it?”
I shrug, which seems to be the incorrect response. Grace’s eyes widen with horror as she declares, “Then we’re not calling them!”
I already know the answer to my next question, but I have to be sure. “Do you want me to take it home? I can care for its wounds and give it a warm place to recover.”
She gasps in delight. “You’d do that?”
I don’t even need to think about it. If it’s something she wants, I’ll do it. “Yes. Let me get my car.”
Grace steps through the threshold of my apartment building in downtown Moriton, her eyes wide as she takes in the vaulted ceilings and grand pillars scattered around the lobby.
“You live here?” she asks, her voice hushed.
“Yes. I own the building.” I lead her toward the elevator at the back of the room, and as soon as we step inside, I press the button for floor 6—where my small medical setup is located. I’ve used the room in the past to stitch up my wounds or toadminister an IV after a particularly brutal weekend, but other than that, it’s gone untouched. There will be plenty of equipment to fix up the little creature Grace is so fond of.
The elevator dings, and I gesture for her to step off. “After you.”
She follows me down a long hallway, but hesitates when I open the door to the medic room. “What is this place?”
“Storage. Medical storage.”
She peeks inside, her eyes widening at the sight of what is essentially a small doctor's office. “Why do you have all this?”
“It came with the building,” I lie, stepping inside and setting the raccoon on the exam table. Grace stands near her furry friend, keeping him company while I grab some antiseptic, sutures, and bandages from the cabinet.
I give the raccoon a shot of pain reliever to make it comfortable, then get to work stitching the torn flesh back together. Grace watches me silently, her eyes widening with a sick sense of wonder. “You’re really good at that.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Grace blinks, surprised by my answer. “Really?”
I clear my throat. “All done,” I say, changing the subject by gesturing to the raccoon's bandaged leg.
It works like a charm, and Grace’s attention diverts to the fluffy creature on the operating table. “Oh my gosh! He looks so much better already!” She reaches out, giving him some much-wanted scratches. “You think he’ll do okay?”
“He should make a full recovery.” I scoop the animal into my arms, cradling him gently. “Follow me. We’ll put him somewhere quiet so he can recover.”
