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A whining sound rang outside my car, and I leaned up over the steering wheel to see over the hood of my car, silently praying I hadn’t hit anything. Relief crashed over me when I spotted the culprit of the whole mess—a midnight-black cat with its head stuck in some sort of plastic container, the poor thing.
It jerked its head back and forth, ferally mewing as it tried to get the thing off.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, and hurried out of the car, but that made the little thing speed off in the opposite direction.
“Well, now I can’t help you if you run away!” I said to the cat like it would understand me, then stamped my foot for good measure. I was soaked, my feet hurt, and I was pissed at myself for even buying the bottle of alcohol now seeping into my clothes. I wanted nothing more than a good bath and a long sleep. But I couldn’t leave it like this.
I spotted it across the street, darting under one of the vacant houses that lined the road, and hurried to follow it. Using the light from my phone, I found a gap underneath the dilapidated porch and knelt to find the cat curled up and hissing through the plastic jar on its head.
“Talk to me like that again and I’ll leave you here to be forever known as the cat in the jar.”
It glared at me.
Well, the attitude matched the vibe.
There was no grass to speak of, just mud that I crawled through as I wedged myself into the hole, reaching for the cat as best I could. I could kiss these clothes goodbye, which normally wouldn’t bother me, but since my parents had cut me off, I had very little to my name and I needed these pants for work.
“You see this mess you’ve gotten us into?” I chided the cat, wiggling under the porch a little more. Gracious, it smelled like old wood and dirt and I tried really hard not to think about all the bugs that were likely waiting to feast on my skin like an all-you-can-eat buffet. “Now, come here and I’ll help you.”
The cat didn’t move. In fact, it looked like it would bite my head off if it weren’t for the jar currently muzzling it.
“Fine, suit yourself.” I reached, finally able to grab hold of its neck fur, and dragged it toward me. I moved backward, knowing I needed more space in order to remove the jar without hurting it.
I made it halfway before a creaking sound cracked through the air, and half the porch slumped to my left, squeezing against my hips. I cringed, bracing for pain, but thankfully, the impact was slow, almost lazy in its crumbling. After realizing I hadn’t been properly crushed because of some random cat, I blew out a breath and tried to move again.
Only I couldn’t.
I tried again, my hips hitting a tighter squeeze in the wood now that it’d crumbled.
I flailed my legs, trying frantically to gain purchase and shake my body free of the space.
Nothing worked.
I shook my head, looking at the cat in my arms. “Are you happy now?” I snapped. “We’re totally, fullystuck.”
CHAPTER2
Jim
“Are you sure there isn’t anyone in there?” Barbara asked me as I motioned for her to go back inside her house.
“I checked the entire property,” I assured her. “There’s no one in there but your dog.”
The elderly woman nodded, frowning as her eyes shifted to the side like she was trying to remember something but couldn’t quite reach it. “I swore I heard something in the back room.”
I gave her a soft smile. “Let’s go check it one more time together, okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “That would be nice.”
I took her arm, helping steady her as we walked through her tiny but cozy house. Tonight was a bad night for Mrs. Jensen. She didn’t remember me when I showed up after she’d called the department with claims of an intruder. I’d answered the same call twice already this week, and would likely answer it again next week.
She suffered from late-stage dementia, and some days were harder than others. She’d been friends with my grandmother, back when her and my parents were still alive. Barbara’s family lived across the country, but they made sure she had in-home care when she refused to be put in a nursing home.
Only problem was, the in-home care wasn’t live-in, and so nights were always hit or miss. I made sure to check on her every week, ensuring she had plenty of groceries and dog food. Mainly, I think she just liked it when I came over so she had someone to talk to, which is why I made my trips a weekly thing.
But the calls had nothing to do with me. She would’ve been fine with any officer coming to investigate her claim since she couldn’t remember me right now, and that was fine. What was most important was helping her feel safe in her home.
“See,” I said, walking her through the back room and showing her every opened closet door. I even showed her that I checked under the bed. “All clear. The back door hasn’t been tampered with, nor the front. All windows are locked and secure. It’s just you and Dane here.” I patted the retriever mix at my feet, the old dog wagging its tail as he looked up at me.
