“He ought to be, by now.”
“No kidding.” Chase took the bag from Anna and opened it. The aroma of fresh meat rose from the warm Kitty Patties. “Oh, Quincy,” she called. “Num nums!”
Anna opened the other baggie and they split up, covering both sides of the street on the way back to the shop, stopping and peering into bushes and under cars.
No Quincy.
Chase saw the “Closed” sign in the front door.
“I flipped it before I left,” said Anna. “It was nearly closing time and no one was there.”
Chase glanced at her watch. “It’s past time now. It’s after seven.”
The sun was fast approaching the horizon over the trees and buildings across the street.
“What if we don’t find him?” Chase struggled to keep the tremor out of her voice.
“We’ll find him, dear. Cats sometimes take off for a while, but they always come home.”
“Always? Unless they get run over. Or trapped somewhere and die of thirst. Or attacked by dogs. Or—” Her voice was rising, getting screechy. She was waving her arms like a wild woman, but she couldn’t stop.
“You can’t talk like that. You can’t think like that.” Anna grabbed Chase’s shoulder and spun her around to face the woman who was, after all, her surrogate grandmother.
Chase grew still on the outside, but was still quaking on the inside. “He’s never been out all night before. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself on the streets.” Her voice betrayed her, cracking and squeaky.
Anna frowned. “Do I have to slap you silly? Stop this right now.” She gave Chase’s shoulder a shake, not a gentle one, and let go of her. “Let’s go over every place again.”
The treats were cooling by then and Chase wasn’t sure Quincy would be able to smell them. Especially if he was trapped somewhere, dying of thirst. “Will it do any good? I’ve been everywhere twice, up the street and back.”
Anna tapped her foot. “He must have gone somewhere else. Where could it be?”
Chase took her cell phone from her pocket. “I’m calling Mike. He might have some ideas.”
He didn’t.
Chase stuck her cell into her pocket. “He just says that this happens sometimes.”
“Exactly what I said.”
“And Mike said that wherever Quincy is, he’s probably all right and will come home when he’s ready.”
“Exactly what I said.”
“All right, but neither of you are making me feel any better.”
Chase texted Julie as she trudged back to the shop. Julie returned the message saying that she’d call later.
Just before Chase crawled into bed, Julie rang.
“Did you find Quincy yet?” she said. She sounded tired.
“Is the trial going on today? Sunday?” Chase asked.
“No, but we met in the office most of the day. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m cut out for this kind of litigation. Grandma said Quincy ran away again.”
“He’s still gone. We looked in the places he usually goes. I don’t know where else to look.”
“I sure wish I could be there with you, at least. And wish I could help look for him, too.”
“I don’t think it would do any good.”
“He’ll come back. You know cats do that.”
“Mike and Anna both told me that. But this is Quincy. My babykins.”
“He’s still a cat. I don’t think he’s even used up one of his lives yet, has he?”
Chase had to chuckle at that. “No, he’s led a sheltered life. I worry that he doesn’t have any experience being out on the streets.”
“The mean streets of Dinkytown?”
Her spirits lifted after the phone call until she started fretting again five minutes later.
Chase lay awake most of the night, dozing for short periods, getting up often to run downstairs to see if Quincy was clawing at the door, trying to get in. In the morning, she was a wreck. Anna came over to keep her company Monday, the day the shop was closed. She kept Chase supplied with hot chamomile tea. The warm spell was gone. Near-freezing temperatures were expected overnight.
Chase lurched through the day, running to the rear door every fifteen minutes until Anna commanded her to stop.
“We’ll hear him if he’s there. His meow is loud enough to hear in the next county, you know.”
Chase pictured him barely able to stand, let alone meow, lying outside the door, but she started checking only every half hour to appease Anna.
Another sleepless night and another awful day passed the same way. At least the shop was closed Mondays and Tuesdays.
Mike came over Tuesday night with a thermos of hot chocolate. The weather was taking a turn for the worse, getting colder and blustery.
She cried in his arms most of the time he was there. After he left, she didn’t feel any better. For two hours, she sat in front of her television, not seeing anything but the weather report. Colder and windier. She shivered. Her poor kitty! Where was he?!
Dragging every step of the way to her bedroom, she took off her clothes and pulled on a flannel nightgown. She stopped with one arm in the sleeve. She’d heard something! A meow! A loud meow!
She thrust her other arm through the flannel and grabbed her robe, stepped into her fuzzy slippers, and tore down the stairs. She threw open the door and took her breath in sharply.
Quincy lay on the cement, almost exactly as she had pictured him. Limp and lifeless.
THIRTY-FIVE
Chase scooped up her cat. He drooped in her arms. He was alive, though, and warm. She felt his little heart beating through his rib cage and he swiveled his right ear an eighth of an inch.
She inspected him closely. His left ear was torn and his inner eyelids were covering most of both his beautiful amber eyes. He was a poor, sick ghost of himself. She mounted the steps carefully, trying not to jostle her poor kitty. Cradling him in one arm, she retrieved her cell from her nightstand and called Mike.
A sleepy voice answered in a croak. “Chase? Do you know what time it is?”
She glanced at her alarm clock. “Oh. No, I didn’t. It’s past one. Sorry. Mike, Quincy is home.”
“That’s great.” He didn’t sound very happy about it. Was the redhead in his bed?
“He’s not well. His ear has a chunk taken out of it and his third eyelid is showing.”
“Oh, that’s not good.” Now he sounded awake and alert. “I’d better take a look. Can you bring him to the condo?”
“So you’re alone?”
“Of course. It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
She laid the injured animal gently on her bed and threw on the clothes she had just taken off, jeans and a sweater. She pulled on her dirty socks and tied her sneakers, then rummaged around for something to wrap Quincy in.
He hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d put him on the bed. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. She got a clean bath towel and cradled him in it, stepped carefully down the stairs, and put him in the front passenger seat. He didn’t stir.
She could easily have walked to Mike’s condo, but didn’t want to carry Quincy in the cold, exposing him to the elements. The wind whipped her hair as she rounded the car to get into the driver’s seat. A plastic bag flew by her windshield as she turned on the lights and the engine. The trees were swaying in the stiff breeze when she got out at Mike’s and carried Quincy up the sidewalk.
Mike must have been waiting for her at his front door. He ran out and took the cat from her. Chase followed Mike inside where he put Quincy on his kitchen counter and unwrapped him from the bath towel.
Aside from a couple of Hms and other grunts, he said nothing as he poked and prodded, using his veterinary instruments to take Quincy’s temperature and listen to his insides. Chase held her breath while he did his examination.
Finally, he straightened. Giving Quincy a soft pat, he wrapped him up again.
“He’s been in a fight. I guess you could tell that.”