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The very thought made me stop, turn around to study the shed on the back of Pat’s property. Maybe her watchfulness had less to do with her distrust of other people and more to do withprotectiveness over her own secrets. She could have all kinds of clues to her crimes, or even a whole secret family living back there, and who would know? I didn’t want to be the person living next to Jaycee Dugard without suspecting a thing.
“My condolences.” A gruff voice came from beside me, and I jumped.
There was a whole hedge between me and Pat, but still I felt prickly and threatened by her approach. “Sorry?”
“About your dad,” she said. “My condolences.”
“Oh.” It occurred to me that she’d lived next to him for decades, but between how insular he was and how antisocial she was, they probably had barely spoken a word to each other. One hundred percent they could’ve each lived next to a certified horror house and would’ve both prided themselves on minding their own business.
I cleared my throat. “There’s a cat,” I said tentatively, “who’s been coming around my house lately. Black and white, pretty small? Is she yours?”
This felt like the right thing to do, but there was a part of me that still kicked myself for asking a question I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to. What if she saidyes, and I had to give Lenore back? I was surprised at the vehemence with which I rejected that option. At the same time, I wasn’t looking to be the subject of some Nextdoor post about how there was a cat thief in the neighborhood.
Pat gave me a look like I was from another planet. “Those cats don’tbelongto me,” she said. “They don’t belong to anyone. They’re animals.”
“Right,” I said.
There was the sound of a car coming around the corner, and I turned, automatically looking for Sam even though I already knew it hadn’t been the rumble of his truck’s engine. By the time I turned back to Pat, she was carefully stubbing out her cigarette against the thick denim of her jean shorts, sliding the butt into her pocket when she was done.
“People don’t belong to anyone, either,” she said cryptically, and disappeared back into her garage.
Was she referring to me and Sam? Under her watchful eye, I had no idea what she would’ve seen or what conclusions she might’ve drawn.
Either way, I thought as I dragged the trash and recycling to the curb, that didn’t seem to be a sentiment you’d expect from a woman who was keeping a secret kidnapped family in her shed. I supposed I could cross that one off my list.
?AT LEAST Ino longer had to worry about Pat getting some kind of revenge on me for doing things like feeding Lenore or taking her to the vet. At the first appointment, I learned to my surprise that Lenore was probably at least three years old, and that sometimes cats could be so demonic while they were getting shots that the vet tech had to wear special gloves and still came back looking a little rattled.
“All set!” she said, but with no additional praise about what a good kitty Lenore had been. Was this what having a cat would be like? Was I doomed to feel a spurt of indignation when other people tagged their cats with#bestcateveron Instagram?
Yes,Alison responded when I texted her that.
“Well,you’rethe original DTC,” I said to Lenore through the door of her carrier as I set it back in the car. “No one can take that away from you.”
The scent of ammonia immediately hit my nostrils.
“Nice,” I said. “Thanks for that.”
Conner had been texting me about the fireworks tomorrow, asking me questions about what I thought he should wear and whether it would be tacky to get a little stoned before. (Just wear a button-up over a nice t-shirt without some funny saying on it. And I would recommend going into this with all your faculties intact.)
It was cute, how nervous he was. I found that I was nervous, too—for Conner, but also because I still hadn’t had a chance to confirm with Sam whether he’d be coming along or not. I really wanted to see him again. Aside from wanting to make things right, I realized that this was the longest I’d gone without seeing him in a while. I’d gotten used to having him in my days.
Finally, I ripped off an old sheet of stationery I’d had since I was a kid,From the Desk of Phoebewritten on the top and a cartoon gumball machine on the side, and scribbled a quick note.
Sam—I was an asshole. I’m sorry. Picnic/fireworks at the park by the river tomorrow around seven. Meet us there?—P
I wished we could drive over together, since that would give us some time to talk, but Conner had me running around picking up stuff for the meal he’d planned. Apparently Shani had gotten obsessed with fancy charcuterie boards on Pinterest and he was now determined to re-create one for her. As touched as I’d been to be included, I did try to point out to Conner that something like afull-on picnic with his girl’s favorite fancy cheeses might be better enjoyed as a one-on-one–type affair. To which he’d typed out an all-caps response about how he would not be able to make any semblance of normal conversation and would end up fucking it all up, and could Ipleasejust make sure to pick up the Brie.
I responded the only way I knew how, the exact way that little shit would’ve replied to me if the roles were reversed.
Dude. Chill.
But then I added a smiley face, because he was obviously stressed, and he was my little brother.
EIGHTEEN
THERE WERE STORMwarnings for the Fourth, and the sky above looked gray and angry as we laid out our blanket on an open spot of grass. Conner kept glancing up at the clouds, as though he could will them to drift away if he worried about it enough. Shani was oblivious, wearing a yellow strappy sundress that looked amazing against her brown skin, happily sipping on a wine cooler we’d poured into Conner’s corporate water bottle.
“It’s going to get rained out,” he said.
