Page 6 of Before She Disappeared

“Piper.”

“And this is her room?”

He shrugs. “Suits her.”

I’m still not sure what to make of this. In theory I like cats. But Stoney’s words of warning have made me cautious. I wheel my bag to the center of the creaking old floor, then pause.

I bend over, carefully lift the quilt, and peer under the bed.

It takes me a moment, then I spy a pair of glowing green eyes regarding me balefully from the far corner. It’s too dark to make out her build or coloring. I have more an impression of pure hostility.

“Piper,” I acknowledge.

She flattens her ears and growls low in her throat, followed by a distinct hiss. I take the hint, drop the quilt.

“Okay then.”

Stoney is already turning back to the hallway.

“Hang on. Cat food, water, litter box, what do I need to know?”

“Nothing. Piper takes care of herself. She’s not stupid. Just hates people.”

“How long has she lived here?”

Stoney scratches his beard. “Long enough.”

“You took her in off the street?”

“She came in off the street.” Stoney gestures to the open door, which I now realize has a small pet-sized hole cut out. “Piper heads downstairs at night, patrols for mice. She’s got food, water, and litter box in the basement. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Um, we didn’t talk start day.” I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel a bit panicky. Not about being alone with a cat. So then about being alone? Except I’m alone all the time. It’s my way of life. No reason to balk at it now.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Oh, door lock isn’t so great. Got a computer in that bag, I’d hide it before you leave each day.”

I nod.

“Hot water comes and goes. Mostly goes.”

“Okay.”

“No smoking.”

“I don’t.”

“No guns.”

“I don’t.”

“And in the event of trouble?”

“I rely on my charming personality.”

He grunts. “I keep a baseball bat behind the bar. In the event your wit fails.”

“Good to know.”

Final nod, then he’s clearly ready to get back to his customers down below. Leaving me and the feral cat.

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