Page 21 of Rekindle My Heart

“Youngsters today. They blare that God-awful music, if you can call it that, at all hours of the night. They’re smokin’ that weed and who knows what else.” She tsked, then dropped her voice. “And they stole my Annabeth.”

Erica gasped. “They took your daughter?”

“What? Heck no, my daughter moved to New York City after college. She’s a smart one, that girl.” Pride straightened her stance.

“Ma’am, who is Annabeth?” Ryan’s gaze moved from the woman to the neighboring house.

“My cat. I told them not to feed her. They leave beer cans and junk food all over. The temptation was just too much. Annabeth clawed through the screens and hightailed it over to their yard.” She sighed. “My poor baby hasn’t been home since.”

Erica’s jaw fell. “They kept her?”

“Well, the inked-up fella did bring her back a couple times, but she keeps sneaking out. It’s the jerky. It’s like catnip to her.” Brown eyes shone with tears.

Erica couldn’t see how that constituted them stealing the cat, but she did feel sorry for the older woman. She snuck a look at Ryan. His lip quivered. The jerk was holding back a laugh.

“Have you tried setting out a can of tuna? Maybe she is just… visiting.” His eyes creased.

“Have you seen the price of tuna these days? No.”

“I will inquire about your cat. As for our visit, have you seen this vehicle around the neighborhood before?” He handed her the photo.

“Sure. I see everything. I sit right there while I watch my shows.” She gestured to the window on her right.

“Do you know the owner? Do they live nearby?” Erica bounced up on her toes. Excitement energized her.

“Nope. Only seen it. About once a week. It cruises the street until one of those no-good hoodlums walks out to talk to him, then he drives off.”

“Talk?” Ryan asked.

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I’d bet my support hose they’re buying drugs.” Her chicken neck wobbled as she nodded.

“Do you know the person who talked to him?” Ryan used air quotes around the word talked.

“Can’t say.” She shuffled back a step. “My show is coming on. Check on my Annabeth.”

She slammed the door.

Erica heard three locks being set. She turned to Ryan. “Well, that was interesting.”

“Yeah, come on. I think it’s time to chat with the cat whisperers.” He slipped his hand in hers and led her down the uneven sidewalk.

Heat burned from his palm to hers. She flexed her hand before relaxing into his hold. It was wrong. She shouldn’t crave his touch, but this small contact was like a hit of adrenaline to her system.

As they started up the next walk, the warmth from his fingers traveled up. Her wrist tingled, liquefying at the connection.

She pulled her hand away. A weak moment, that’s all it was—all in her head. He was being helpful, nothing more.

The thumping bass of death-metal hit them twenty feet from the door, along with the sweet smell of pot.

Ryan knocked.

The curtain flapped. The music cut out.

“Shut the fuck up. Cops.” The words resounded from the house.

They waited. Erica’s heart ran sprints as the seconds turned to minutes. Ryan tried the doorbell. Nothing. He knocked again.

“Don’t they realize we can hear them?” Her brow crept up in disbelief. No one could be that stupid.