Shirley Murphy: Murphy_Shirley_Rousseau_Cat_Coming_Home_BookFi

MAUDIE WATCHED THE trackers from her studio doorway as long as she could see them, listened to them crashing up the black hill. She’d wanted to follow in her car, to be there when they found Benny, but Dallas had other ideas. “You’d be in the way of the dog,” he’d told her, his square Latino face serious with concern. “Driving along after him, your headlights behind him, you’d distract him, make him lose the trail.”

Maudie wasn’t sure this was true, but she didn’t want to impede the search. “I can keep up, on foot,” she’d argued.

“That could confuse him, too. You have Benny’s scent on you. You’d have him doubling back sniffing at you. We want him to follow fresh scent.”

Maudie didn’t know whether Dallas was speaking the truth at all, or simply wanted her out of their way. But she couldn’t argue with him, she surely couldn’t jeopardize the search. The police thought Kent might have kidnapped Benny, but she was certain it was Pearl. And if Pearl had him, she was terrified for the child.

“You’ll help most by staying here,” Dallas had said, “in case Benny somehow manages to escape and find his way home. You need to be here for him, Maudie. To comfort him, and to let us know he’s been found.”

She prayed to God he’d be found. She thought about Jared being part of that gang, and she felt sick. Could you trust no one? Soft-spoken, clean-cut Jared. Sleeping in the guest room alone with Benny. Had Jared had a hand in this, had he helped get Benny out of the house? And exactly when had they taken him? Behind her back as she stood on the porch watching the police? Or when she’d left the house to go down to Alfreda’s? This all had to be connected, the invasions, the theft of her keys, the rifled and stolen storage boxes, the invasions. All linked together with Benny’s kidnapping. But for what purpose?

Standing at the kitchen sink wrapped in her woolen robe, she watched the dark yard, praying Benny would appear out of the night, that somehow he would break free and find his way home. Praying to see his small shadow slipping along through the neighbors’ dark yards, making his way home. Praying to see him free of Pearl, and safe. Turning to the stove to pour the rest of the cocoa into her cup, she caught her breath at a sound behind her. Turning, she spilled hot cocoa on her hand. Pearl stood by the table, her thin face smeared with blood, her windbreaker torn and bloody, her expression smug. A bloody gash ran up her face into her kinky, bleached hair. She held a small automatic, aimed at Maudie.

“Where’s Benny?” Maudie whispered. “What have you done with him?” She dabbed at her hand with the dish towel, edging the towel toward her pocket.

“Give me the ledger pages Caroline had,” Pearl said. “And your bonds. You’ll sign them over to me. Then I’ll bring Benny here.”

Maudie just looked at her.

“I want the pages now, or you won’t see Benny again. You’re alone in the house, David’s gone, there’s no one here to help you.” She glanced at the dish towel. “If anything happens to me, you’ll never get Benny. No one will ever find him.”

“You wouldn’t kill your own child.” But Maudie wasn’t sure that was true.

“No woman has ever killed her own kid? I never wanted Benny. All these years, he’s only been in my way. Why would I want him now? Except to use in trade,” Pearl said, smiling.

“And Jared was in it all along,” Maudie said. “You and Jared and Kent did those cruel invasions together. And that man with the black beard. But why? Who is he?”

“Get the pages.”

“You’ve already been through Caroline’s things. If you didn’t find what you wanted, then it isn’t here.”

“Do you want me to bring your grandson back to you, dead?”

“It’s too late to trade,” Maudie said. “The LAPD has a copy of what you’re looking for, and there’s a warrant out on you.”

“I’m losing patience. I want the pages. Without them the boy’s dead.”

“What makes you think there isn’t more than one set of copies?”

“If there is and I find out, I’ll come back and kill him.”

“From behind bars?” Maudie said, laughing.

Pearl clicked off the safety. Her dark eyes were cold, her face as pale and hard as stone. Was this how she looked across the blackjack table, dealing out a crooked hand, taking the players’ money? Pearl glanced down at the gun, lifting it slightly so it was aimed at Maudie’s throat.

“There’s only one set of copies,” Maudie said, resigned. “In my safe-deposit box.”

“And the bonds?”

“And the bonds.” It was the middle of the night, they’d have hours to wait before the bank opened. Maybe this would give the searchers time to find Benny, maybe time to find and arrest Pearl? In that moment, she knew she should have made another copy. She’d thought about it, but had decided the pages would be safe enough, locked in the bank vault.

“We’ll be at the bank when it opens,” Pearl said. “You’ll give me the pages plus whatever cash you keep in the box, and sign over the bonds. You always kept cash in your safe-deposit box.” She smiled. “You didn’t know I knew that.”

All Maudie could think was, she wanted Pearl dead. Beneath the dish towel, her hand was so close to her pocket. Could she be quick enough? Shove her hand in, shoot through her pocket, never revealing the gun? But Pearl stood so close to her, still with the safety off the automatic. She was trying to think how to do this and not die herself when she heard a man’s voice from somewhere above them. Startled, she glanced toward the ceiling. Pearl stiffened but didn’t look up, didn’t take her eyes from Maudie.

There was no one upstairs, Maudie knew that. Unless that officer down the street had seen Pearl slip in and had followed her? Maybe he’d come to the kitchen window and seen Pearl holding a gun on her? Maybe he’d somehow gotten in upstairs. Not likely, that portly cop climbing on the fence or up a tree. She wondered if the construction ladder was still outside, lying beside the garage wall. Maybe he’d called a second cop and they were ready to come down the stairs behind Pearl? Except, they wouldn’t be talking, knowing they’d be heard in the kitchen below.

But then, when the voice spoke again, it seemed to come not from the rooms above at all, but from over the garage. Or maybe from someone out on the street, maybe it was one of her neighbors, his voice deflected by the house walls. She shifted the towel, rubbing her hand with it as she eased toward her pocket.

But what if she killed Pearl, and Benny was badly hurt somewhere, and the tracking dog didn’t find him? What if help didn’t come in time, if they found him too late because she’d killed the only person who knew where he was?

How badly had Pearl hurt him? Pearl’s face and hand were bleeding; what was that about? Had Benny fought hard enough to injure her like that, to make that deep wound down Pearl’s cheek? What would Pearl have done to him in retribution? Maudie’s heart pounded with fear for her grandson, far more fear, even, than the storm of hatred that she felt for Pearl. As Pearl gestured with the gun, quietly Maudie laid down the dish towel and slid into a chair at the table. Prepared to wait for morning, to wait for the bank to open. Prepared to do as Pearl ordered—praying that, one way or another, Benny would be safe and unhurt.

42

PEARL WATCHED MAUDIE sitting so patiently at the table, snuggled cozily in her robe as if she weren’t afraid of the gun, as if Maudie didn’t believe she’d kill her. Certainly she wouldn’t kill her until morning, until she had the ledger copies and the bonds and hopefully some cash. Then she’d decide what to do.