Cattitude Read Free Page B

you,” she whispered. Deavers wasn’t a
professional killer, he was something more deadly—a desperate man.
He’d always seemed so nice, smiling when they met for their
sessions as if she were the most important person in the world, but
underneath she’d sensed the roiling darkness. If she stopped the
car, she feared what he would do.
    In the back window of the station wagon,
children’s heads bobbed. A vision flashed in her mind. Two small
girls lying on the floor, their mouths and eyes open in death,
crimson blood flowing into their blond hair.
    A cry wrenched out of her throat, and the
vision dissolved. Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal.
    The two parked vehicles were a blur as she
sped past them. Her fuel gauge showed a quarter tank of gas, which
should get her into the next county. And then...she would die. She
knew this the way she knew evil lived in the world and so did
good.
    Her tears dried. An eerie calm settled in
her, and she almost smiled. All her life she’d been frightened. Of
her visions, of other people. Now, with death as close as her
shadow, she felt...nothing. As if she were already dead and
gone.
    Would dying be worse than living without
Fletcher? Or for the first time in her thirty-one years would she
be at peace?
    ***
    Belle dreamed she was climbing a tree in the
jungle outside Max’s house. A squirrel fled from her, jumping from
limb to limb. She leapt after it. They were both flying. The hunter
and the prey. Finally, they reached the top branches. She stretched
out a paw and—
    Something grabbed her ribs. Awake instantly,
she yowled. Hands. That’s what it was. She smelled a flowery
scent. Caroline.
    Long fingers covered with toweling tightened
around her ribs. Belle lashed out with her four legs, her claws
catching on cotton threads. She screeched. The towel wound twice
around her, restricting her movements, covering her face and
blinding her. She stopped squealing but kept trying to struggle
free.
    “There’s one cat too many in this world.”
Caroline’s mutter penetrated the two layers of towel wrapped around
Belle’s ears. “And I’m going to take care of that. You’ll never pee
on anything of mine again. You’ll never steal Max’s attention from
me again. Without you constantly stealing his attention, I know
he’ll fall in love with me.”
    Belle’s useless struggles stilled. Caroline
had killed her husband. Now it was her turn to die.
    But she wasn’t dead yet. Beneath the
toweling, she kept her eyes open, her ears listening, her senses
alert. Her body ready, she waited for a chance to escape.
    An up and down motion started as Caroline
hurried through the house. Caroline clasped Belle to her chest, her
heartbeat reverberating against Belle’s head, pounding almost as
fast and loud as Belle’s own heart.
    The door opened. Beneath the folds of
material, Belle welcomed the chill air. Then the door closed behind
them and the up and down motion began again, this time faster.
Caroline was running.
    She was afraid Max was coming home, Belle
thought.
    Max. He would save her.
    If he returned in time.
    If he didn’t, she would have to save
herself.
    Belle sensed when Caroline started toward the
woods. Her breaths rasped and she panted like a dog on a hot day.
The smell of trees and damp grass grew stronger, overpowering the
stench of her perfume.
    Caroline stumbled. Instead of letting go of
Belle, her grip tightened. Belle tried flailing her legs. But the
snugly wound towel restricted her limbs, and she stopped. She
needed to save her energy.
    What was Caroline planning? To kill her, yes.
But how?
    Caroline caught her balance and began walking
again, Belle moving up and down, up and down. Caroline held her
almost in a lover’s embrace, except the blond woman loved only
herself.
    From the curving country road came rumbles of
an occasional car, first distant, then nearer. Belle pictured the
thicket of trees surrounding Max’s house. Sometimes when Max was
working outside,