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“NOOOOOO!” a small voice cried.
The man turned back to Sully and offered a tired smile. “I won’t really do it, but that basement is creepy as hell.”
Sully looked down at the cat trap in his hands. “I, uh, found your cat.”
“That is NOT my cat.” The man shook his head for emphasis. “Thathell beast belonged to my mother. We put her in a nursing home six months ago. The woman, not the cat. I’m still cleaning out this shit hole. You ever heard of that showHoarders?”
Sully nodded.
“Amateurs, all of them, compared to Mom.” The haunted look in the man’s eyes reminded Sully of a solider trapped too long in the trenches. “She hasn’t thrown out as much as a piece of lint since 1976. It practically took a SWAT team to finally pry her out of this place.”
The man leaned against the battered door frame and sighed. “Shauna should be clearing this place out with me. She’s my sister, you see? But is she here? No!” He pulled a sodden tissue from the pocket of his jeans and blew heartily into it. “This place is practically a hazardous waste site. I should probably be wearing a hazmat suit.”
A crash sounded somewhere deeper in the house. The man’s head whipped around. “Brady, I SWEAR TO GOD!”
“It was Heather!” a small voice called back.
“Not-uh! He’s a lying fart burger!”
“Both of you are going down in the basement!” the man hollered.
“NOOOOOO!”
The older man turned back to Sully and crossed his arms. “You ever see what happens to a baloney sandwich that’s been left out for five years?” He shivered. “You can’t un-see certain things… or un-smell certain things.”
“Um, the cat?” Sully finally managed.
“No way.” The man shook his head again and shoved the wet tissue into his pocket. “I’ve got enough shit to deal with here. Shauna was supposed to get rid of the cat. She said she brought it to the shelter in town.”
“Well, I found her out on the street a few miles from here,” Sully explained.
The man rolled his eyes. “She probably just let the cat loose. Shauna doesn’t always follow through; you know what I mean?”
Sully didn’t.
“I’m not taking it,” the man said again forcefully. “You see this?” He thrust a pale, puffy arm at Sully. Beneath a dark mat of hair, a streak of raised white skin slashed across his forearm. “Petunia gave me this scar, and a lotta others, too,” he said. “Mom adored that cat for some reason, but I swear it’s possessed. I’ve got small children. Light of my life, those little shits. No way I’m letting Petunia near them.”
The man shoved his hands in his pockets, then apparently remembered the wet tissue. He pulled his hands out and crossed his arms over his chest. “Bring Petunia to the shelter or, honestly, if you threw that thing in the ocean, the world would be a better place.”
Sully’s grip on the handle of the cage tightened protectively. “I’ll see that she finds a good home.”
“Sure. Whatever.” The other man shrugged. “As long as that home ain’t here.”
“Good luck with the cleaning,” Sully said between gritted teeth.
The man huffed out a laugh. “Between this cesspit and that monster, I’m not sure which of us has it worse.”
Sully turned away and retreated down the porch steps.
“Brady! How many times have I told you not to put your sister in a headlock!” the man hollered as the squealing front door closed behind him.
Sully belted Petunia’s cage in the passenger seat before sliding into the driver’s seat. He stared out the windshield at the dilapidated house, then looked down at the cage. Between the bars, Petunia’s big blue eyes gazed back at him.
“Well, that explains a lot,” he said to the cat.
He should bring the cat to the shelter. Yes, that was definitely the smart thing to do. What other choice did he have? But Kate, the vet tech, had told him Petunia’s chances of getting adopted were slim. What if she didn’t get adopted? What if, instead, the shelter was forced to…
“Meow?” Petunia asked from the carrying case.
