Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

“Want me to stick around until you go?”

She shook her head. “No, you should probably get your exercise in before it starts to get too hot.”

They washed the dishes, and then Mike surprised Sunny by giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Those other kids will love you. I do. Good luck, and have a good time.”

When Mike left to go on his daily three-mile walk, Shadow accompanied him to the door, apparently hoping he’d take the offending suitcase away.

When Dad didn’t, Shadow turned to Sunny with a dark look.

*

Shadow did notlike this at all. This was definitely not a good thing. When two-legs brought out those square-things, it meant they were going away for a long time—or maybe forever.

He didn’t understand it. There hadn’t been any noise, any shouting at all. In fact, the Old One had been especially nice to Sunny, bringing her food. They’d sat down as if this were the beginning of any other day.

Except it wasn’t. That thing was by the door.

Finally, the Old One got up and started down the hall. Shadow followed him, hoping he would pick up the bag. Oh, he’d miss the Old One a little. In spite of their differences, they’d managed to get along all right. But Shadow could live without him.

The Old One did not pick it up.

Shadow turned to Sunny. This was very, very bad.

*

Sunny was gettingannoyed. In the time between Mike’s departure and the Kingsbury car’s arrival, Shadow had turned into the Incredible Clinging Cat. If he got any more claws into her new top, she’d have to tell people it was eyelet lace.

She had thought she’d feel pretty bad about saying good-bye, even if it was only for a week or so, but Shadow had gotten almost frantic, pushing himself into her petting hands, trying to hook onto her again.

Maybe I’d better wait for the car outside, Sunny decided.

She headed down the hall—and into the Battle of the Bag. Shadow had knocked it down and draped himself over it. Trying to get his not-inconsiderable weight off it wasn’t easy, especially when he dug his claws into the fabric, refusing to let go. Every time she got one paw loose, he’d hook in the other.

In the end, she was hot and sweaty, holding him out in one hand at arm’s length by the scruff of his neck, the bag held in her other.

The toot of a horn came from outside.

“This is not the good-bye I had in mind,” Sunny told the cat, puffing a little. “But I guess it’s the best I can manage.”

She hefted Shadow down the hall in the direction of the kitchen, opened the front door, and quickly slammed it behind her. Even through the solid door, she could hear his howling wail from inside.

Sunny hurried toward the black town car that had pulled into her driveway. A thickset man in a dark Windbreaker and a baseball cap sat behind the wheel. Probably one of Lee Trehearne’s security guys.

He stared at her for a moment, then averted his eyes. Yeah, I know I look like I just ran the hundred-yard dash to get out here, but he’s not supposed to notice things like that with a client. She shook her head, straightened her clothes, and continued toward the car.

The driver got out to open the door and take her bag. He was staring again, but this time behind her.

Sunny turned. They’d recently installed a new front door. This one had a decorative mail slot. Now the brass flap that covered the slot was pushed out, and a gray-furred paw lashed frantically around in the opening to the accompaniment of horrible, mournful noises.

Sunny shrugged at the driver as she took her seat, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

8

It took mostof the half-hour ride to Neal’s Neck for Sunny to calm down after that scene with Shadow, requiring plenty of deep breathing and a lot of taking in of the beautiful, serene scenery.

Concentrate, Sunny urged herself. You can’t arrive looking like a wrung-out dishrag. Priscilla is depending on you. And so is Will.

She had control of herself by the time the town car arrived at the roadblock at the entrance to the compound and parked just inside. As she waited for the security guy to get her bag, Sunny checked out the state troopers. Each wore a badge over the left breast pocket of his uniform, a name tag over the right, which made it slightly easier as Sunny tried to spot the name of Will’s pal, Hank Riker.

“We were assigned together up near the Canadian border and were pretty tight,” Will had told her. “If you need help, he’ll probably come through for friendship’s sake. But if it’s anything serious, Hank’s a trooper first. He’ll go to Wainwright. Hell, he’s the one who called Wainwright here in the first place.” Even so, Riker may be the only halfway friendly face in this place, Sunny thought as she scanned another name tag. She realized the owner was giving her a sort of weird look of his own.

That irreverent alter ego in the back of her head quickly responded. Well, would I like some stranger looking at my chest?

“Sorry, Trooper Smithwick,” she said taking in the printed name. “Just trying to get myself acclimated.”

Before Sunny could embarrass herself any further, Priscilla Kingsbury came walking up, wearing a bathing suit under a terrycloth wrap. “No problems getting up here?”

“Just a few getting out the door,” Sunny said without elaborating. The driver brought over her bag. Sunny gave it a quick check to make sure Shadow hadn’t torn the side open with his claws, then arranged the strap over her shoulder. “As you suggested, I brought a few things.”

From the look Cillie was giving her, apparently she should have brought a lot more.

“I can always go home and get something else if I need it.” Sunny pasted a synthetic smile on her face. “Maybe I should have asked. Do you dress for dinner?”

“The Neals did when they lived in the big house,” Priscilla’s smile was more genuine—and a little wicked. “But that was because Great-Grandfather Neal liked to watch people sweat. It’s a lot more free and easy nowadays. After all, this is supposed to be a summer place, where people can relax.”

Still, Priscilla didn’t look very relaxed as she led the way to the house on the right-hand side of the street, the same one Sunny had seen Eliza Stoughton coming out of two days earlier.

“We girls—and Yardley’s husband Thomas—have been bunking in here.” She pushed the door open, catching Sunny’s glance. “Nothing much gets locked around here, unless you want privacy,” Cillie said. “The perk of having all this security around. Anyway, this is the ground floor.” The house was larger than Sunny’s but built along the same lines. A center hall with a stairway leading upward. Living room on the right, and a smaller parlor on the left. The furnishings were clean and serviceable, but on the plain side of luxurious. The living room held a lot of Early American furniture, but Sunny didn’t think any of it was antique. Just old.

This was one of the houses that the Kingsburys had bought basically as cover, a means to shelter their inner compound. Sunny suspected that they’d purchased it furnished as is, and suddenly found herself wondering where the previous occupant had gone—and if they’d done so willingly. Oh well, she thought, at least the Kingsburys probably paid over market value for it.

Priscilla led the way through the living room to a dining room with a good-sized table surrounded by bentwood chairs, each with its own little tufted seat cushion. Then she turned, headed for a pair of swinging double doors, and revealed the kitchen, with an enormous old-fashioned gas range, a refrigerator probably as old as Sunny, and a huge, ancient sink.