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I’m not going to push at her.
She’ll get tired of ignoring me in a day or two. She’s a needy little kitten, thrives on attention, and I’m her favorite source. Ignoring me just hurts her, so she’ll make up her own mind when she’s good and ready to forgive.
I’m glad she doesn’t push me away when I tuck her in and smooth her wild hair back from her brow. The minimal fussing, that’s not too bad of a sign.
We’ll probably be cool by morning.
Once I’m sure she’s asleep, I settle on the sofa to finish up my case reports.
Usually, there’s not much to report on, but we’re in the thick of the last tourist season with a dead body. Between the suicide and two pairs of hikers getting into fistfights over prime camping spots and six different cases of shoplifting, I’ve got my hands full.
It’s after midnight by the time I make up my mind to turn in for the night.
Only, as I stand, stretching my back until my spine pops, a sharp sound clatters out front.
That icy weirdness of cold fingers scraping the back of my neck hits again.
I tense, instinctively taking a careful sidestep as I edge toward the door.
When I peer out the front window, there’s—nothing.
Predictable as hell.
But what else?
The motion sensor lights on the front porch aren’t on, either.
Just in case, I crack the door, always aware of my service pistol hanging in its holster from the coatrack. No bullets in there, certainly. I always take ’em out when I come home in case Nell ever gets curious. Still, I’ve got a clip in my pocket and I can have that gun locked and loaded in under five seconds.
Don’t think I’m gonna need any action tonight, though.
There’s nothing out there at all.
Not even a shadow twisting in the night.
Probably just raccoons or foxes, fucking with garbage cans on the curb for scraps.
They always get a little hyperactive when the tourists move in and there’s more trash around, more junk food thrown out. Night scavengers love a good feast.
Sighing until I relax, I close the door—but just in case, I trudge upstairs to peek in on Nell.
When I ease her door open, her bed looks flat.
Those cold fingers choke me as I bolt into the room, flipping the light on in a panic.
Sure enough.
Sheets thrown back.
Her backpack’s missing from the hook on the back of the door.
“Nell?” I call, racing out into the hall. Bathroom door’s still open, only she’s not in there, fuck fuck fuck. “Nelly-girl, where are you?”
No answer.
Nothing as my drumming heart becomes a block of black ice.
Fuck my life.
