Page 50 of Building What's Meant to Be

Chapter Twelve

AIDEN

Immediately after I drop Tinsley off, I hurry across the street to my office. It’s on the second floor in the building above Brick Bookstore. The owner, Aggie Miller, is a proud tinfoil hat-wearing founder of the Anti-Stoll Society of Butterbury. She started the one and only chapter during the first round of Stoll’s attempt to destroy the town.

Also, she reads a lot. Mystery mostly. Some thrillers too. She also keeps tabs on Stoll’s every move. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s a covert member of our investigative team. In other words, she’s a good person to know.

I’ve had it in my head to become mayor for a while now, but Aggie really encouraged me to go all in. Well, as in as I can against a guy who has this place in a stranglehold.

Aggie greets me when I enter the bookstore, but the real attention comes from Hercule, her Finnish Forest Cat. His bushy tail is a wonder to behold.

“Hello, sir.” I give him a good scratch.

“Morning, Mr. Fuller,” Aggie greets me with all the efficiency of a Revolutionary War general leading troops into battle. In fact, she considers this a siege against Stoll. “Status update: all is well with the asset most recently involved in Operation Pierate.”Her gaze travels upward in a not-so-subtle way. “Fed, watered, etcetera. No additional intel available.”

She doesn’t know all the details, of course, but because Stoll loves pie and he’s something of a pirate, she dubbed the cat situation Operation Pierate. Also, I assume theetceterarefers to Twinky’s litter box.

“Thank you for your service.”

Aggie swallows and looks around to make sure we’re alone even though this is her shop, “The asset and Hercule had a meeting. She cooperated and Hercule signed off with his approval. She’s clean. Innocent.”

“Well, that’s good news,” I say, playing along. “I appreciate your help, Aggie.”

“Any word from Rat Tail?” That’s the code name she gave Gatlin Stoll.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“That’s concerning.”

“Indeed. I’d better say hello to Twinky and get some work done before I head over to Bubba’s.”

“Ah, yes. I hear your arrest went as expected. I’m only grateful the rescue was successful. I think going into the witness protection program is the best option for the asset after what she’s been through.”

I try not to chuckle. “I’ll see to it that she’s safe. Will you be able to continue checking on her while I’m out?”

“Certainly sir, yes sir. Additionally, Hercule is a proud member of this operation and he will see to it that she has companionship as well. I imagine protective custody can get lonely.”

“Glad to hear it. Thank you.”

We give each other a playful salute and I go upstairs to my office where I find the white and tan Persian cat lounging in a patch of sunlight. Much like Stoll, she’s rotund. Her tail flickswhen I enter and she looks at me like I’m interrupting her morning nap. I suppose I am and I could go for one after last night’s rush through the woods when Tinsley called. I didn’t see any signs of wildlife last night, but it’s not unusual for raccoons, skunks, and other critters to get curious.

The real danger was Tinsley looking cute in her pajama set and after she got ready for her first day at Sweethearts. I tell my pulse to settle down.

“Twinky, I’d like to take a look at your collar.” She’s a spoiled feline and in addition to gourmet meals, she has a collar embroidered with gold thread and studded with gems that sparkle much like Tinsley’s sequined dress. It gave me the idea that perhaps the collar might hide something. Then again, the short, sequined dress left little to the imagination.

I check the collar and fiddle with the gems, but there’s nothing unusual about it. I thought perhaps they might give something away. Provide a clue. Even though Twinky wears a collar, there aren’t any tags—not even a bell. All I know is Stoll called her Twinky.

I give the cat a pet before returning to my desk, reviewing notes and intel that I’ve collected. My leg jostles up and down restlessly as if to point out that I’m missing something.

“Come on Stoll, reveal what you’re hiding,” I whisper to myself as I review the recent security camera footage from the town hall. I watch him come and go then stop on the last time he was seen there. The same morning Bo saw him on the road.

I rewind the tape to check something when a door creaks. I check the floor, but the cat no longer stretches in the patch of sunlight. Nor is she on the windowsill, in her cat bed, or by the bookshelves.

My stomach drops. That can only mean one thing, Twinky escaped.

I rush downstairs toward the street. It’s bad enough that I’m keeping her here, but the last thing I want for her is to be lost and scared in a world she’s never known after being pampered her whole life.

Relief calms my pulse when I spot her seated at the foot of the stairs. She licks her haunch and then peers up at me. After a long, appraising look during which I don’t dare move, she turns tail and races down the sidewalk.

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