Page 35 of If Anything Happens To Me

“You’ve got me interested,” Fitch said. “Sure, come get me. Just give me half an hour to finish up here. That would be excellent.”

“Okay, see you soon,” Matt said.

Matt and I started walking back toward Iris to wake her up, but she was hurrying toward us from around the maintenance shed. She was wide awake. Her eyes looked so much brighter, and I realized that she had been right, rest was just what she had needed.

“I remember everything!” she said. “Well, almost everything. It came back to me in my sleep. I think it’s thanks to Adalyn and her cat.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked.

“I live in the Cat Castle,” Iris explained.

“The what?” I asked.

“That’s what it’s called,” Iris explained impatiently. “My parents run a cat sanctuary—they rescue strays from boatyards, city streets. We live in Newport, Rhode Island. Near the waterfront, the docks, and old warehouses.”

Newport. A small city, just about an hour away.

“Tell us more,” I said excitedly. “Anything might help us know who took you, and why.”

“Oh, I know exactly,” she said. And she began to talk.

“My last name is Bigelow,” Iris said. “Iris Cassandra Bigelow. I’m sixteen, Hayley is fourteen, and we come from a family of eighty-five siblings, but we’re the only human ones.”

“What?” Matt asked.

Iris laughed. “We always joked about it. My parents love animals, especially cats. We live in this old brick warehouse near the waterfront. Half of the building is our home, the other half is the Cat Castle—a refuge for stray cats.”

I tried to picture it, and came up with a magical image of sisters and cats and an old brick castle. The three of us—Matt, Iris, and I—stood at the top of the hill, looking out over the harbor, feeling the wind in our hair. It seemed enchanted, a moment out of time.

Iris continued, “Hayley and I grew up with the cats. We learned how to coax shy and terrified feral kittens out of their hiding places. We gave them treats and spent hours petting and talking to them. The oldest ones made us sad—often their owners had died, leaving the cats without anyone to care for them. We would set out heating pads for them and give them extra love.” She paused. “We knew that cats grieve like people.”

I swallowed hard.

Iris told us that the Cat Castle became known as the place to adopt the friendliest, sweetest, most cuddly cats anywhere. People came from miles around. The Bigelows carefully vetted potential adoptees, making sure they would take good care of the cats and requiring them to agree never to declaw the cats—that was inhumane.

“My parents made the Castle a kind of destination,” Iris explained. “It even got written up online. There are lots of cool features in it, like a library—tons of books in one room. My parents pick them up at tag sales and even the Book Barn, near here. The library has chairs and a fireplace, and the cats are allowed to roam free. People come for the cats, but we also let them choose a book to take home.”

“That sounds amazing, like a fairy tale,” I said.

“It is,” she said.

“We have to get you home,” I told Iris, reaching for my phone. “Do you remember your parents’ number? You can use my phone to call them right now . . .”

“Shhh,” Iris said, as if speaking to an agitated child. “You know that’s not possible, Oli.”

“But—”

“The first thing my parents would do is call the police, and then you know what would happen to Hayley,” Iris said. Her lower lip wobbled, and her eyes glittered with tears.

“Maybe you could just text them, to let them know you’re alive?” I said. “They must be so worried.”

Iris shook her head. “I can’t contact them until I know Hayley is okay. Please don’t ask again, Oli. If you start me thinking about my parents, I won’t be able to do this—to find Hayley and save her.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“Do you get it?” she asked, looking from me to Matt.

Matt nodded. “I do,” he said.

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