Fear Familiar Bundle (54 page)

Cassandra looked at the flashlight in her left hand and her jacket draped over her arm. The cat was at the door, demanding that she open it. Was it possible he wanted her to go outside with him?

She looked at the flashlight and the jacket again. Lassie couldn't have done it any better. And Familiar did watch a lot of television, especially since he could turn it on and off and switch the channels with a flick of his paw.

She went to the door and opened it a crack. Familiar shot outside, but when he got to the edge of the porch he stopped. "Meow," he said.

Cassandra looked back and forth. There was no sign of anyone, or anything, in the darkness. She felt that the intruder was gone, but she wasn't willing to risk her life on a hunch. What if he were lurking on the fringe of the woods, waiting for her to venture out?

She started to shut the door, but Familiar let out a yowl. It sounded as if he'd been run over by an eighteen-wheel truck. She hurried to the edge of the porch to snatch him up, but he jumped to the safety of the yard and cried again.

"I'm going to get you," she whispered as she darted after him. She was suddenly struck by the memory of the day in the orchard when the cat had shown her the tracks in the grass.

It didn't make much sense, but he had shown her. Was there something he wanted to show her tonight? She had the flashlight in her hand. The lightweight jacket was perfect for moving unseen in the woods. Slipping it on, she started after Familiar's bobbing tail.

Without wasting another second, the cat moved along the path toward the apple orchard.

I
T'S ABOUT TIME
someone started listening to me. What with all the commotion going on around here, I didn't think I'd ever get Goldilocks on the move. There's something she's got to see.

It's going to be a long haul, and if she starts to question where we're headed, I'll lose her. She hates the orchard. I'm not certain why, but I know it makes her sad. Even worse, it makes me worried. I've got a really bad feeling about what's been happening up there.

I should have been checking around the premises more. I knew Bounder was out there, and I thought he was keeping an eye on things. That isn't exactly the case, though. His smell is everywhere, and after the things I've seen, that isn't a comforting fact.

That's one of the problems with humans. They aren't clear in their thoughts or emotions. Take a cat, for instance. Say I'm walking down the street and I see another tom. If I'm on his territory, he lets me know with a growl. He doesn't hide behind a fence and jump out and stab me in the back. It's straightforward. Humans are devious. They pretend one way and then— wham-o!— the next thing you know, there's a stiletto sticking out of the old back. I wonder if duplicity is part of the process of walking upright.

Now that's a theory for consideration. We superior four-legged animals may fight, and even kill, but it's a matter of survival and protection of territory. We also clearly signal our intention. Those two-leggers are another matter. They get into the darnedest struggles, and we're talking about environmental suicide here with bombs and nuclear attacks, and the crux of it is economic.

I'll tell you, it makes a cat wonder. When all of this is over and I'm home again, I'm going to spend some time thinking on this. How did humans end up in control? Cats are infinitely superior. Why aren't we running things?

This fascinating topic is going to have to wait until I resolve the more immediate problem of the item I've discovered. When I saw the hair, I didn't put two and two together. My mind is definitely slipping. Now I know what it means, though. As soon as Cassandra sees it, she'll know, too.

The strand of hair isn't very long, maybe about four inches, but it's a healthy hunk. Dark and gorgeous. I know it isn't Cassandra's. The way it's been placed on that rock, though, it had to be done deliberately. Some sort of sacrifice or ritual, I'd say. Just looking at it gave me the willies.

Now who would stand in the middle of an apple orchard, cut off a shank of hair and leave it displayed on some big rock? It doesn't make sense. It's so weird, I know it has something to do with those women who disappeared.

Hurry, Goldilocks! Time's a wastin'. I'd better gear up into a slow jog and keep her feet on the move. Hurry. We're alone out here for the moment, but there's no guarantee when the owner of that hair might return. And I ain't referring to the person who wore it last. I'm talking about the one who cut it off.

And frankly, my dear, I do give a damn if we get caught. I don't mind admitting that the thought of what this person might do to my incredibly sleek and gorgeous hide makes my whiskers pucker. I'd like to live to see my Eleanor once again, and I'd like to do it comfortably attired in my formal black hide.

Come on, Cass, shake the lead out, we're almost there.

"D
AMN IT
, F
AMILIAR
, slow down." Cassandra was panting heavily as she climbed the steepest portion of the path to the apple orchard. She was tired, exhausted and afraid. Now she was chasing through the woods following a cat that acted as if he were training for the Boston Marathon. It didn't make a bit of sense. Besides, she'd forgotten to leave a note for Adam when he came back. He would have no idea where she'd gone.

She lengthened her stride a bit and pushed harder. The sooner she checked out the orchard, the sooner she could go home to Adam.

She felt as if she'd covered several miles, but Familiar continued to lead. She was going to feel like a complete idiot unless she found something.

"Meow!" Familiar stopped abruptly in the middle of the path.

Cassandra snapped on the flashlight. She'd been traveling with only the light from the moon as her guide. If someone were around, she didn't want them to be able to follow her. She didn't want to be a perfect target, especially since she was beginning to feel like the perfect idiot.

The thin beam of light cut the darkness and revealed fresh tire tracks in the lush grass. Bounder had once told her a bit about tracking. Kneeling in the thick grass she felt one of the crushed blades. It was still wet where it had been broken. That meant the tracks were relatively fresh. How fresh? It was hard for her to know. She also couldn't tell if they were coming or going tracks. Bounder would have known the subtle differences, but she'd never learned.

An interesting possibility occurred to her and she scratched the waiting Familiar on the neck as she examined the ground. "Are you saying that the man who drove up here was the same man who put a fake bomb in my house?" Cassandra asked the cat.

"Meow."

"That's exactly what I thought you'd say." She shook her head at her own foolishness. It was possible, though. Not only possible, but probable. The man who'd broken into her home and tried to frighten her had been driving on her property, hiding out among her fruit trees.

And he might still be in the area.

She snapped off the flashlight. So, she'd tracked him to the upper reaches of her land. Now what? She should have left Adam a note. If someone were up here, waiting for a chance to hurt her, it might be days before Adam thought to look in her orchard. In days, she could easily be dead.

She trotted along behind Familiar for another five minutes before he veered off the path and cut through the trees. Without a light, the footing was rocky, but Cassandra followed. He was definitely leading her.

They were moving toward the edge of the orchard, a place Cassandra had not visited since her father's death. A haunting sensation of terrible loss touched her, and she pushed it aside. The past was dead and buried. She had her future to worry about, a future that might be determined by what she learned on this night.

"Meow!" Familiar called as he urged her on.

Cassandra firmed her resolve. It was almost as if that damn cat read her mind. He seemed to know she was faltering. But she wasn't. She wouldn't let the past prevent her from reaching for the future. Hadn't she done that all of her life— used the past to excuse herself from trying to find happiness and love?

She'd avoided caring about anyone just like she'd avoided this part of the orchard. She didn't want to explore the possibility of caring for anyone, and she didn't want to examine the place her father had died. She didn't want to risk further hurt.

"I'm tired of being a coward," she panted as she followed Familiar. "I'm not going to avoid this place, or my feelings for Adam any longer."

They were almost at the edge of the orchard, the place where the side of the mountain sheered away and fell for two thousand feet. It was the place she'd often come with Blake McBeth and watched the orchestrations of the stars.

Familiar stopped, as if he, too, saw the beauty of the night spread out across the horizon. Cassandra halted beside him. Sadness and loss surrounded her, and she knew again the pain of missing her father. The day he'd died, so had her childhood.

A sharp prick in her right leg made her jump.

"Meow!" Familiar demanded.

"Cat, you're too pushy." She turned away from the view and followed Familiar at a walk. He was threading his way past trees and rocks, moving unerringly toward a goal.

When he stopped by a large rock formation, Cassandra waited. The cat jumped on one rock, and then onto another. He turned back to see if she followed.

"I hate this," she said as she started to climb after him. The flashlight was awkward, still, she dragged it along with her. The rocks weren't high, but the climb was difficult in the dark. When she finally reached the top, she saw the cat crouching beside something.

"If this is some poor rodent you've caught and killed, I'm going to do something terrible to you," she whispered. She clicked on the light and aimed it at the cat. It took several seconds for her mind to accept what she saw. When she finally realized what Familiar had led her to, she felt the scream rising in her throat.

"T
HE LIGHTS ARE ON
." Adam was amazed at the sweetness of the relief that flooded through him.

"Be careful," Running Stream cautioned as he threw himself out of the car.

He didn't bother to answer as he took the steps three at a time and rushed to the front door. The first indication of trouble was the fact that the door swung open at his lightest touch. Cassandra had agreed to keep the house locked tight.

He held up a warning hand to Running Stream, a sign for her to remain in the car. Cautiously, he moved into the house. He didn't call Cassandra's name.

He checked the upstairs and found it empty, also. When he was certain the house was safe, he went to the front door and motioned Running Stream inside.

Working together, it took them only a few moments to find the numbers Cassandra had written on a notepad by the phone.

"She was trying to find you," Running Stream said. "She called the lounge, my home, the sheriff's office. The places she thought you might be."

"And then she took off, on foot." Adam paced the room. "Why? And where?" He stopped. "And did she go voluntarily? Surely she would have left a note for me if she'd had time."

"Where's the cat?" Running Stream sat on the arm of the sofa. "And we need to check and see if anything else is missing. That would give us a clue where she might have gone."

Adam searched around the house for Familiar, while Running Stream looked through Cassandra's bedroom for any clues.

"The cat isn't around anywhere. Not inside or out," Adam reported when he returned.

"Cassandra changed clothes. Her favorite jeans are gone, and her sneakers. She's on foot, unless she caught a ride." Running Stream's gaze roamed over the den. She moved to the kitchen and foyer. "The flashlight and her black Windbreaker are gone, too."

"Maybe I should call the sheriff," Adam said with uncertainty.

"Before you do that, why don't we check the orchard? I remember when Cassandra's father told me about the cave. Blake didn't want her to know about it, for fear she might decide to explore. He was always afraid someone would hide there. Since his death, she hasn't been there at all. It's been years since I even thought about it, but if someone has been roaming around, they might have found the cave." She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

"What are you thinking?" Adam asked.

"That Cassandra knew someone was on her property, and that she went to find out who it was and why they were there. She might have thought it was Bounder." Running Stream's fingers clutched the fabric of her shawl. "She never told me what Billy told her, but I'm afraid those young men are trouble. I think maybe they've been up in the cave."

"You think Cassandra might be there, too?"

Running Stream nodded.

"You'd better stay here and wait for her. Just a minute." He dashed out the front door and came back. In his hand was a small but powerful-looking gun.

"No," Running Stream said softly.

Adam checked the chamber and loaded six bullets. "Whether you want it or not, take it. If Cassandra comes back down here and anyone tries to hurt her, kill them." His gaze locked with hers. "I mean it, Running Stream. There's a maniac out there, and he might be after Cassandra. If someone has to die tonight, I don't want it to be Cassandra or you."

Running Stream reached her hand out slowly and took the gun from Adam. "I know how to use it, so don't worry."

"Will you?"

"If I have to."

Adam leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thanks. Now I'm going up to the orchard. If Cassandra comes back, fire the gun once up into the air, okay?"

Running Stream nodded. "One shot and you'll know she's here safe."

"More than one, and I'll be down here as fast as I can." Adam checked his own weapon, a gun identical to the one he'd given Running Stream. He'd never owned a gun until the day before, when he'd stopped by a shop in Gatlinburg and made the purchase. One weapon had been intended for Cassandra, even though he knew she'd balk at the idea of touching one.