Page 2 of Spies without a Face
She had cats. I’d seen them on her enclosed front porch, watching the birds and squirrels outside. Ooh, that was an option. It had more room than the cat carrier, but the kitty might be scared.
And if she saw a strange man trespassing to put a kitten onto her enclosed porch, she might call the police.
No, I couldn’t do anything on her property without talking to her first.
I picked up the kitten. “It’s time we meet the witch next door and hope she has a soft spot for cats.”
When I put the kitten into his carrier, he meowed in protest.
“It won’t be for long,” I promised, hoping I could keep it.
Going to her back door was a better option in case Michael drove up earlier than expected and caught me holding a cat carrier. I hurried outside and into her adjacent yard. A light rain fell, which felt refreshing after the humidity earlier. The earthy scent of fresh rain on grass and soil reached my nostrils.
The kitty meowed. I rushed up the steps of the woman’s deck and knocked on the metal part of the screen door. When she didn’t answer right away, I called out to announce that I was there.
Still more precious seconds passed before I added, “Please, I need your help.”
CHAPTER2
PANDORA
“Who’s there?” I called.
My hand trembled as I held my wand and advanced with hesitant steps out of my living room and through the dining room. The back door was off my kitchen, leading out to my small deck. The door was open, but the screen door was locked. It was a sultry summer night, and I loved the sound and smell of the summer rain.
“My name’s Austin. Austin Towers.” He sighed. “Yes, I’m aware it rhymes with Powers, but I had the name first.” He said the last part in a quick cadence of someone who’d explained that fact dozens of times.
“Okay, Austin. Why are you at my back door?”
“I’m your neighbor. I moved in last week.”
Since I lived at the end of a dead end, there was only one house beside mine. People often moved in and out of that two-family house next door. The last few tenants tended to keep to themselves and barely said hello. I hadn’t seen anyone moving in or out lately but could have been at work.
When I reached the kitchen, I spotted the man through the screen. He was massive, at least six-and-a-half feet tall with shoulders stretching almost from one side of the frame to the other. And he was attractive, too, with rich brown hair, a strong jaw, and dimpled chin. I gauged him to be about ten years younger than me, perhaps around thirty. He held a dark blue cat carrier in front of him. My defenses fell a notch, but then I scolded myself to remain vigilant. He could be using a cat as a prop for that exact reason.
Still, I approached with caution. “I didn’t see anyone move in.”
“I moved to the second floor. Since I don’t have much stuff, it didn’t take long.”
Was he telling the truth? While I tried to figure that out, I’d ask more questions. “Why are you banging on my back door, Austin?”
He shuffled from one foot to the other and turned away with a sheepish expression. “My landlord is coming over. I have a leaky faucet. I’m not supposed to have a cat. But…” He raised the cat carrier.
Frustration gnawed at me. “Why would you bring a cat into a house if the landlord didn’t permit it?”
“It’s not permanent,” he protested. “This little kitten followed me when I was hiking. He was so hungry and scrawny. I couldn’t leave him…”
If this was a ruse to get to me, it was a good one. But I wasn’t an idiot. “What’s your landlord’s name?” If he didn’t know that, I’d know he was lying.
He appeared taken aback. “Michael. Michael LaRose.”
Yes, that was the correct name.
“The woman who lived there before me is Rachel—I forget her last name, but it begins with an S. She’s an engineer.”
That was more than I knew about the woman who’d lived there for less than a year, but I did know her name was Rachel.
“I don’t know what else to do with him,” Austin added, lifting the carrier. “I took him to the vet to get him checked out. They scanned him and took photos in case anyone is looking for him. And they gave me the name of a couple of shelters, but I couldn’t bring myself to take him yet. He’s so tiny. In the few days I’ve had him, he’s flourished. He was so hungry when I brought him home, and he eats so much, like a ravenous bear. I don’t know where he puts it. In a shelter, how’s he going to be with a bunch of cats? Would he get any attention? Enough food and water? What if the older cats bully him? He wouldn’t receive the one-on-one care that I could give. And worse,” he gulped. “What if they put him down?”
