Page 107 of Texting Dr. Stalker

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Zander

Stranger Danger

I BOLTED UPRIGHT IN BED.

Blinking in the dark, I froze. What woke me? What had I heard? Adrenaline ensured I was ready to fight an intruder or leap from a burning building.

Fumbling with my bedside light, I scanned the industrial loft feel of my bedroom. Nothing had fallen. Sailor wasn’t screaming. No wind or rain or thunder.

So what?

Something howled, tiny and miserable.

“What on earth?”

Slipping from my sheets, I plucked my glasses from the table and padded in my boxer-briefs downstairs.

I didn’t bother turning on any lights, knowing the corners to avoid and managing to get to the back door in the conservatory without stubbing a toe. The howling came again, interspersed with a sad little meow.

Unlocking the door, I swung it wide and peered into the cloud-covered garden. No starlight or moonlight. Everything was hazy with mist.

Something warm and tiny bumped against my bare ankle, wrenching my gaze down.

“Penguin?” Bending over, I scooped him from the deck and held him up. “How did you get out here?”

He meowed again, his eyes dull and tail tucked.

He looked lost and alone and—

Panic shot through me.

Sailor.

“What happened to Sailor, Peng?” Holding him tight in one hand, I glowered at him as if he could tell me everything. “Where is she?”

He meowed and hung his head.

“Is she in danger?” Clutching him close, I bolted over the grass to the fence palings.

Then froze.

If I went over there as Zander—in my boxer shorts, no less—I might do more harm than good if she was having another nightmare.

But if I took the time to go as X…could I afford the ten minutes?

Fuck it, no time for hair dye and contacts.

Peng squirmed and meowed as if he agreed with me.

Racing back the way I came, I scaled the deck steps, and careened into the kitchen where I grabbed my motorcycle scarf and black baseball cap. Dumping Peng on the sideboard where my keys and mail lived, I quickly yanked both on, left my glasses on the countertop, raided the laundry rack holding a pair of black sweats and a t-shirt, and dressed as fast as I could.

Once decent and disguised, I scooped up the little kitten and ran out of my house without locking up.

The fence palings tried to snag me again. Peng whimpered as I squished him a little too hard. I raced over Sailor’s lawn then plopped him onto his tiny paws to push up the lavender pot, claim the spare key, and unlock her back door.

Nothing.

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