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“Was I not? How sad.” He leans back against the tree and reaches out to tug Phoenix down as well. To my surprise, instead of moving to sit on Rory’s side, however, he stretches out in the leaves, his head on Rory’s lap and his legs out in front of him.
It occurs to me that before this, before Rory, I’d never seen Phoenix be so…soft. Sure, he’s still the jerk I knew him as growing up. And he could still kill me with his glares or fits of sarcasm. But lying here, with Rory’s fingers threading through his hair and his lashes obscuring his eyes just a bit…he doesn’t look like the sad teenager I remember leaving Hollow Bridge.
Blinking, I realize that I’ve found his eyes, and he stares at me, waiting for me to notice, before his lips curl into a grin. “I’d say I’ll stop stalking you, if it bothers you. But that would be a lie,” he tells me, reaching one arm out to coax me forward.
“And you know how I hate being lied to,” I murmur, letting him drag me down against him.
“And I know how you hate being lied to,” he agrees quietly, his palm cupping my cheek. “What do you say, then? What will you do if we keep stalking you around Hollow Bridge for a while?”
I reply, my voice easy, “Depends on when you plan on stalking me. If it’s at night and you’re sitting on my windowsill, that’s a little weird.”
“We’d just come sleep in your bed,” Rory snickers. “Clearly.”
“And if you’re stalking me when my parents leave, or when I’m ordering food, it would be cool if you tell me so I can get you food too. Otherwise I’ll just feel so guilty looking at your sad faces outside of the windows in the rain,” I say with a dramatic sniff.
“Who said anything about outside in the rain?” It’s Rory again, and it seems he has a quip for every bite of sarcasm that leaves my lips.
“But I think there’s a bigger issue than you stalking me,” I point out, eyes flicking between them. “You know, the one from the news this morning?”
Both of them give me blank, confused looks, and I can’t help the roll of my eyes as I sit back against the tree. “Evan’s not dead. Hemade it. And with your luck, he remembers everything from last night.”
Chapter22
It’s hard not to think about Rory and Phoenix for the rest of the day. It’s worse the day after. Then, when Friday finally rolls around, I realize it’s been a bit since I’ve heard from them. But hadn’t they said they might be scarce, especially with Evan still alive?
Since, after all, Phoenix is still somewhat of a suspect, despite him having pretty solid alibis for a few of the deaths.
“Come on, Lover Boy,” I murmur, curling my fingers toward the white cat hiding under the bench. This part of town, the part with mostly not-so-great-houses and less-than-savory neighbors, isn’t my favorite place in the world to be. Especially in the cold and the wet. Even with my hood up, the wetness seems to seep into my bones, making me feel creaky, old, andtired.
But the cats are here. And I refuse to abandon them.
The cat in question, Lover Boy, contemplates my existence. He’s been caught before, proven by the tip taken out of his ear and the tattoo I know exists on his belly where he’d been neutered. And he’s even let me touch him, once or twice. But today doesn’t seem to be my day on that front.
Sighing, I sit back on my ass, food bowls strewn around me as the majority of the feral cats eat their fill. I’ll make sure to fill up the other bowls before I leave, knowing there are at least six older cats that won’t show their faces until I’m gone.
I’d just hoped things would be different with Lover Boy today. Instead, he bristles from under the bench, shifting his weight from one haunch to the other.
“Okay,” I say finally, rolling my head on my shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness from my neck. “Okay, I get it. You’re not feeling very social today.”
“Does he usually let you touch him?” The voice behind me shatters the peace of the small courtyard outside of the abandoned shoe factory. Cats scatter in every direction, some of them not stopping until they’re back in the safety of the broken down, hazardous building. Even though I’m not a cat, my own heart leaps into my throat, pulsing there a few times as I turn to see who’s scared the cats so badly.
Though when I see her, disappointment dips into my fingers and I let out the breath I’m holding. I should’ve guessed it would be her.
“When no one is around to scare them, yeah,” I tell Detective Angleson, knowing that irritation colors my voice. “I work with them to get friendlier so we can catch them if they need vet care.” Or take them home, in the case of Stranger and Kale. But I’m not about to tell one of my least favorite people on earth that I’m two steps away from becoming a crazy cat lady a few decades early.
Her hair is pulled into the same smooth ponytail as before, and she wears a bulky brown jacket over her uniform that carries the same badges marching down her arms. It looks thicker than what I'm wearing, and I’m sure she’s warmer than me today, especially since the sun is starting to set.
“What do you want?” I ask before she can even open her mouth. “I’m not doing anything other than feeding cats. Can’t you leave me alone for once?”
I swear a flash of guilt shows up on her face, though it’s wiped away quickly by the careful blankness she’s so good at wearing. “I just want to talk,” she replies, glancing around us, presumably for a place to sit.
“Please don’t scare the cats,” is all I can deadpan in response. “If you’ll just give me a minute, I can finish feeding them and we can leave so you don’t scare them away from eating.” I know my voice is harsh, but I hate being interrupted when I’m trying to do something.
Especially for this conversation, because I know how it’ll go. I know what she wants, and I’m not exactly thrilled to be on the receiving end of her looks or her investigation.
It’s not like I’ve done anything to be investigated for, anyway. At least…not really.
True to my word, I finish with the cats, dumping the last of the bag into bowls under benches and structures to help keep the food dry. They’ll eat when they don’t feel threatened, and I know from experience I’ve given them enough food to share. Worst-case scenario, I’ll come back tomorrow and do this again, just in case Angleson has scared some of the more fearful ones away for more than the next couple of hours.
