"Or," Davis said, "unless Nina gave it to someone."
Lindsey frowned at the detective. "That doesn't seem likely. Nina seemed to place some special, almost mystical value on it."
"Can you explain?" Davis said.
"I don't really know. Maybe sentimental value. I think she was truly fond of her aunt. She said once that the bracelet was the one thing that Olivia Pamillon treasured." She looked toward the now empty grave. "Olivia's bracelet, circling that bare bone." She shivered. "Like a manacle holding Nina there." And she turned away, into the shelter of Mike's arms.
Above, on the roof, Joe watched her intently. What a strange thing to say, to read into a simple bracelet with an innocent cat embossed on the band. Below him, both detectives watched Lindsey without expression. And Joe thought, A bracelet embossed with the emblem of a secret that Olivia Pamillon carried all her life? And as Clyde and Mike and Ryan turned to leave, the tomcat, staying out of sight, headed fast across the roofs toward Clyde's roadster, Lindsey's words repeating in his head, Like a manacle holding Nina there…like a manacle…
But, galloping across the roofs trying to put Lindsey's comment in perspective, he stopped suddenly and crouched, very still, watching the jutting wing of the mansion beyond the grotto, where he'd glimpsed a figure slipping away. Darkly dressed, visible only for a second, moving fast. Someone near the grotto, listening, and watching.
There! He saw the figure again moving swiftly to vanish beyond the broken walls, moving toward the old shed, and then gone.
27
ALONE IN THE BARN, wishing Sage would hobble out and apologize to her and say he'd been wrong, say that Stone Eye had been an evil tyrant and the clowder was better off without him, and knowing Sage would never do that, Kit began to smell a lovely aroma from the kitchen. Charlie's delicious shrimp casserole. Crouching in the straw feeling lonely and neglected and sniffing that heady scent, growing hungrier and hungrier but unwilling to go in the house and face Sage and make up-he'd have to apologize first-she waited. Maybe Charlie would come out and would understand and would maybe bring her some nice shrimp to eat and tell her she was right and Sage was wrong. Listening across the yard to little sounds from the kitchen, she longed to hear the door open and Charlie's footsteps approach. She felt sure Charlie could make everything all right.
But Kit waited a long time before Charlie appeared in the barn, calling out to her. Then she waited a long time more, letting Charlie call and call, before she came out from her hiding place in the pile of straw.
Immediately Charlie picked her up, scowling down crossly but gently stroking her. Charlie did not apologize for Sage's behavior. Nor did she sympathize with Kit. She simply headed for the house.
But before they went inside, into the big kitchen, Charlie sat down on the steps, holding Kit tenderly. "You're hurting, Kit. You feel all alone, and Sage doesn't understand."
Kit sniffed.
"Do you think Sage feels alone, too?"
Kit didn't care.
Charlie took Kit's wild little black-and-brown face in her hands, looked into her angry yellow eyes. "Do you think he understands why you're angry? Really understands?"
Kit didn't care about that either. If Sage didn't understand now, he never would. She'd said it plainly enough.
Hadn't she?
"Do you think," Charlie said, "that you might have been thinking like a kitten who expects to be understood but never really explains what's wrong?"
Kit glared at her.
"Do you think, if you explained to him that the way he sees life is a threat to the freedom you see in life, that he would understand?"
Kit was quiet, thinking. Charlie said nothing more. She rose, carrying Kit, and in the kitchen she set her down on the window seat, at the far end, as far as possible from where Sage was tucked up among the cushions. His head was down, his eyes closed in misery.
Charlie served each of the cats a plate of warm shrimp casserole, each in their own corner, then set her own plate beside a green salad and sat down at the table. She didn't talk as she ate, didn't seem to notice them. She sat enjoying her early lunch and reading some manuscript pages from the book she was working on. The cats ate in grim silence-though anger didn't seem to spoil their appetites. They ate fiercely, as if tearing at fresh kill, glancing at each other only occasionally.
After a long while, as Charlie ignored them, their glances grew more frequent and then gentler. And as the soothing effect of the warm shrimp eased and cheered them, they looked at each other more kindly. Charlie gave no sign that she noticed. When she'd finished, and rinsed her plate, she left them alone and headed back to her studio. But in truth, she was so upset by the cats' battle that she wasn't sure she could work, not sure she could put herself back into the fictional world that she built around her as she wrote.
Oh, Kit, she thought, do you love Sage? Love him enough to follow him back into the wild despite your differences? To follow him even when you can't agree on what's important in life? Indeed, two sets of their deepest beliefs were at cross purposes here, just as could happen with humans, one set of values deeply threatening the other. Oh, Kit, don't go if you can't be happy. Don't go if you can't believe alike, don't go and leave us, only to be miserable…
But now all Charlie could do was leave them alone, so her interference didn't muddle their relationship, and hope they'd sort it out.
Getting back to work on the new book, soon immersed in the tangle of the story, still Charlie was aware of the cats' softer voices, as if they were making up. Later, when she heard only silence she rose and went to look.
They were napping, curled peacefully together. She turned away, smiling, and soon she was deep in the book again, deeply relieved that silence reigned from the kitchen. Later, if she was aware of a soft metallic sound, she ignored it.
It was late that afternoon when, finishing her work for the day, she went into the kitchen and found the window seat empty and a glass panel above it open six inches. Alarmed, afraid the cats were gone, she had turned away to search the house when Kit came bolting in through the window behind her, her claws scrabbling on the sill, and raced to her, smearing dirty paw prints across the cushions.
"He's gone, Charlie. I woke up and he was gone, we were asleep and I was dreaming and then I woke up and the window was open and Sage was gone and I followed his scent that leads into the woods and I'm going back after him but I came to tell you so you wouldn't worry…"
Charlie grabbed her before she could leap away. "He's hurt, Kit. I'll come with you! He's awkward and clumsy in his bandages and cast, and it'll be dark soon. He mustn't be out there alone, he can't defend himself!" Carrying Kit, Charlie snatched up her jacket, shrugged it on while juggling the tortoiseshell, and they were out the door and heading for the woods.
"Now, Kit," she said, setting her down. "Now you can track him."
And Kit was off, following Sage's scent around the barn and straight into the heavy woods, tracking the crippled cat while already the shadows of evening were running together toward night.
JOE WAS IN a dither to leave the ruins and get back to the village. Having seen the shadowed figure slip away among the broken walls, he paced the mansion's roof beneath overhanging limbs willing Clyde to hurry, willing the detectives and coroner and everyone to get back in their cars and leave so he and Clyde could search for the guy or follow him.