Page 199 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Cats seem to instinctively know who dislikes them and go straight for them,” Tate said.

“Flea bag,” Max muttered. “I’ll help you look. Maybe she got out.”

“Oh I hope not,” Becca said. A worried frown crouched between her eyes.

They searched the house, but there was no sign of Misty. Max felt stupid calling for the cat he disliked.

“I’m going to look outside,” Becca said.

“I don’t see how she could have gotten out. There were no open windows or door.”

“Maybe she slipped out with a person.”

“They would have seen her and told you,” Max said.

“Maybe.”

Becca went in one direction, and Max searched the other way. There was no sign of the cat.

Becca felt frantic with anxiety.What could have happened to Misty? The island had wolves and foxes in residence, and Misty would make a tasty morsel for them. She still had her claws, but they wouldn’t be much use against a determined predator.

The sound of Max’s voice calling for Misty faded as Becca pushed deeper into the woods. The light was fading, and she stumbled blindly along an overgrown path. She paused to catch her breath near a moss-covered tree that had been downed a long time. Her breath was loud in her ears, and she slowed her breathing to listen.

A mewl came from behind her. “Misty?” The mewl came again, and she followed the sound. She found her cat in a cage under the tree. She opened the cage and Misty jumped into her arms. She could feel her cat’s heart pounding in her small chest. Who would terrorize her cat this way?

She suddenly realized it was done to lure her out here. She stilled her breathing and listened. Nothing. Then she heard something. A sliding noise, a rustling from behind her. She whirled. “Who’s there?” she called.

Nothing answered but the wind. Prickles rose along her neck and spine. She forced herself to breathe in and out, though she wanted to bolt and run. There was nothing to be afraid of. Yet shewasafraid. She couldn’t explain why, but she suddenly knew the sound she heard wasn’t some harmless animal, but something—or someone—focused on her.

The sound came again, and realized it was the footsteps of someone trying to muffle their approach. “Who’s there?” she called again, not really expecting an answer.

She shouldn’t have come into the woods so far by herself. Max would have no idea where she was. A scream gathered in her throat, and she fought it back. Whoever it was wanted to terrorize her, but she had more backbone than to give in to fear.

A dark figure rose from the bushes, but it was too dark to make out features other than a huge headdress of some kind on the person’s head. The figure brandished a wicked looking blade.

As she bolted in the opposite direction, she told herself there was no such thing as a Windigo. Besides, she didn’t see any big teeth. Clutching Misty to her chest, she dashed deeper into the forest and heard thrashing as the attacker followed.

She prayed as she dashed through the trees and tried to figure out how to circle back to the house and still avoid the attacker. Her fear dropped away as she ran and anger took its place. She wasn’t going to let him take her life the way he’d taken her parents’. She was going to bring this person to justice no matter what it took.

The ground dropped out beneath her, and she tumbled down an embankment. She dropped the cat, and Misty yowled in protest then shot away into the dark. “Misty, no!” she called after the animal. She sprang to her feet and raced after her cat.

She found Misty crouched under a shrub then gathered her up and hurried toward the house.

She felt the attack before it came. A whoosh that she tried to jump away from. She almost made it, but the blade slashed through her arm. The darkness was complete, and she could make out only a dark form in the forest. She tucked Misty under one arm then grabbed a stout stick on the ground and turned to face her attacker.

“I’m not going to make it easy for you!” she shouted. She jabbed with her stick, and she heard a throaty laugh. Following the sound, she thrust the stick with all her might and felt, then heard, it find its target.

With anooph, the figure fell back, and Becca took the opportunity to rush toward the house. She could see a dim glimmer of the outside light through the trees. She put on a lastspurt of speed and broke through the tree line into the lawn. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a figure following.

“Help!” she shrieked.

The figure stopped then ran toward her. She dropped the cat then turned to face the attacker again. The stick was wrenched from her hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Max growled. He tossed the stick away.

“Someone tried to stab me.” Becca could feel the warm trickle of blood on her arm, and she began to feel faint. She turned to look for Misty and found her cat hunkered down by the rose bush.

“Get Misty,” she muttered, swaying on her feet. She had never fainted in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. If she passed out, Max would have to leave her where she fell. She was too big to ever pass as a dainty maiden in distress.

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