Silence.
“Does it occur to you that my more sensible driving keeps your worthless neck safe? Or does that not mean anything?”
Joe Grey sighed, curled up in his carrier, lifted a disdainful paw, and pulled the top over. He remained thus secluded until Clyde bypassed Molena Point and, at around ten forty, turned up the hills, toward the Pamillon estate. Then Joe came alive, staring high above them at the scattered car lights, pricking up his ears at the wail of an ambulance that came zigzagging down, forcing them onto the shoulder. The minute they stopped, he crouched, to leap out.
29
T he house was silent around Greeley, no sound from the dark upstairs rooms. Probably Lilly was asleep, but he waited a while longer to make sure-he’d waited long enough for her to stop knitting and go to bed, he guessed a few minutes more wouldn’t matter. He’d conned her into letting him stay overnight, but she hadn’t shown no hospitality; hadn’t offered one of the upstairs rooms, which were likely bigger.
Well, this downstairs cubbyhole suited him better, farther away from her room. Having spotted the safe earlier as those two cats prowled the basement, he meant to start there. Finesse open the safe, and that was likely where he’d hit pay dirt. If that turned up empty, he’d have to plow through that whole damn basement full of junk, and maybe the rest of the house, too. He wondered if she was one of them early risers, up before daylight. He hoped to hell not. The time now was just after one.
He wondered if Lilly knew where the stash was. Not likely. He’d never known Cage to tell her nothing.
Well, he’d find them trinkets before she was out of bed, he had to. Find them, and be out of there before first light. And the old man’s face brightened in an evil smile. Maybe he’d leave her a note, thank her all proper for her hospitality.
He had one more little drink, from the bottle he’d brought in his coat pocket, waited a few minutes more, listening to the silence of the house, then, swinging off the bed, he opened the door without a sound, and slipped out.
It was eleven thirty when Clyde pulled off the narrow dirt road onto the soft shoulder below the Pamillon estate, to make room for a police car coming down. Above them in the blackness, flashlight beams glanced across broken walls and twisted trees in a surreal tangle; they could see cops moving about, and half a dozen people gathered where the lights were concentrated and still. They passed the Greenlaws’ car parked off to the side, just after the ambulance went by, and they stopped, Clyde grabbing Joe before he could drop out the window.
Lucinda looked out the driver’s window at Clyde. “Wilma’s up there somewhere. She’s safe. And the cats-we brought Kit and Dulcie, they would have taken off up the hills by themselves…I never could have locked them inside, any more than I could lock a person in. You know how hardheaded they are…”
“But so much has gone on,” Pedric said. “We don’t dare go up there and be in the way. All we can do is sit and worry. It’s been mighty hard to hear gunshots, when the cats are up there…” Joe Grey stood up again with his paws on the window. “They’ll be among the rocks somewhere, hiding,” he said softly. He hoped to hell they were.
Lucinda reached across and touched Joe’s cheek, then Clyde pulled away, heading on up, studying the turmoil of flashing torches, trying to make sense of what was happening. Joe rode with his paws on the door, ready to leap out.
Clyde gave him a look, and restrained the tomcat by the nape of the neck as he parked behind a row of squad cars. “Let’s take a little time here.” Killing the engine, his hand tightening on Joe, he sat scanning the blackness as Joe hissed, and pawed to get free. “Just stay still a minute and look,” Clyde said. “There, on that nearest wall.” Above them, surrounded by twisted oaks and picked out by the flashing lights, five cats prowled along the wall, were lost, and then silhouetted again against the night sky.
“Dulcie and Kit?” Clyde said.
Joe nodded, twitching his ears with relief.
“And the other three? The ferals?” Clyde said with amazement. “What other cats could it be? But they…those wild creatures wouldn’t stay there, with all that’s going on!”
“Let me loose, Clyde, before I hurt you. The excitement’s over, someone’s coming down with a prisoner. Let me go!” They watched a squad car approach. “Look, there in the back…”
The squad car passed them, two officers in front, a thin man in the back, behind the security screen, sitting rigidly, as if shackled.
“Eddie Sears?” Clyde said, smiling. “But where-”
“Let me out now.” Joe twisted around, lifting an armored paw.
Clyde freed him and Joe was gone, leaping down, racing through the night to Dulcie.
Clyde looked after him, sighing. He remained in the car until three more police units passed, heading for the village. He watched two riders come out of the woods, breathing with relief when he saw Charlie. But where was Wilma? Was she safe? A cold hand touched his heart. Snatching the keys out of the ignition, leaving the windows down for Joe to get in, he hurried up the dark little road trying to look everywhere at once, watching for any eruption of violence. He was passing the last squad car when Wilma’s voice spun him around. “Clyde?”
She opened the door and stepped out, and the next minutes were a tangle of hugs and both of them talking at once; but then suddenly Wilma was shivering and had to sit down again. Sliding into the backseat she moved over to make room for him. “I guess it’s catching up with me.” Her hands in his were cold.
“I’d guess it would catch up with you. What did Cage…?”
Wilma looked at him. “It’ll take a while to tell. Charlie shot him. She shot Cage. She’s shaky, too. Pretty upset.”
Clyde held her hands. “I guess this will take a lot of telling. Have you had anything to eat?”
“Coffee, and a sweet roll Brennan gave me. Before that…Breakfast in Gilroy around eight this morning.”
“You need a rare steak and a drink.”
“I’d kill for exactly that. But where’s Joe! You went to Gilroy…Where’s Joe Grey?”
Clyde pointed up to the wall, where six silhouettes lingered, two of them sitting close together, Joe’s white markings bright in the flashing lights.
Wilma laughed, and relaxed. “Those other cats are the ferals. That, too, will take a bit of telling. You won’t believe what they did. I hardly believe it.”
“You need to eat. Tell me over dinner. You don’t need to hang around? Let me go up and see Charlie, then we’ll get you a steak.”
From atop the broken wall the six cats watched Clyde step out of the squad car and head up to where Charlie stood, safe in Max’s arms. Cotton was worn out; the white tom had never pursued the kind of madness he had tonight. Approaching the village, he’d been scared out of his skin, and he still wasn’t sure why he’d done it. But now that it was over, he was proud he’d found the courage. Now, he wanted only to sleep.
Willow looked at Cotton stretched out limply along the stone wall, and wanted to snuggle down with him. Until tonight she hadn’t known which of the two tomcats she favored; she thought she loved them both. But now she knew. Cotton was brave and staunch, Cotton made her heart race.
Coyote might be more dashing and handsome; certainly he would have no trouble finding his own lady. Maybe among their own ten, or maybe he’d slip back to their old clowder and lure away one of the discontented young queens. Coyote was her friend, they would always be close, but Cotton was her chosen.
Coyote watched her, and knew. He felt sad and a little lonely. Felt shy beside them now-but he was often shy. He looked away to the high boulders where the others of their small group were hidden, then lifted his nose to look south. Some miles away, their old clowder might still be ranging. He thought about the young queens there, and he wondered, and his green eyes lit up with speculation.